Table of Contents
Table of Contents Page
Copyrights and Credits
Sun Illuminated by Space: Coral Red
I Believe It’s Called an Apothecary Mortar
This Wasn’t One of My What-Ifs
Flock of Crows and the Glowing Moon
Life Extolling Nostalgia: Naples Yellow
A Direct Line to Shimamura Hougetsu
She Who Ventures but Never Quite Gains
Prophetic to Be Right, Fated to Be Wrong
Let Me Die in the Moon’s Embrace
And One Day, the Dawn Will Come: Bright Blue
Obviously, This Never Happened at Any Point in Our Lives
Newsletter
Garden of the Eternal Dead
Garden of the Eternal Dead
AN ENDLESS ROW OF BENCHES, all empty.
Not far from the park was a trail lined with large trees, their branches laden with flowers in full bloom. As I gazed up at them, I recalled their name as gently as a drawn breath.
Petals fluttered down onto the bench in front of me; I flicked a few away, then sat down slightly right of center, as if waiting for someone to join me on the left.
Here, I was surrounded by greenery. The grass and trees looked to be well-kept—naturally sculpted, to use a phrase that was as beautiful as it was contradictory. In that sense, it was like a garden.
As I watched the petals fall, the corners of my eyes grew hazy with drowsiness. Unable to fight it, I closed my eyes. Then the sound grew muffled, and my mind melted away. I would remember something, then go back to sleep—forget something, stir briefly, then nod off all over again. This slumber flowed for what felt like an eternity.
Indeed, the only thing that interrupted it was the sound of toddling footsteps. My perfectly relaxed eyelids opened a crack, just wide enough to see that a strange creature had arrived at the neighboring bench. It was a little girl, dressed in...well, it looked like a whale onesie, but I wasn’t completely sure. She clambered up onto the bench, then looked over at me, her little legs dangling several inches above the ground.
“Hee hee hee! Hello there.”
“Hello,” I replied, mildly surprised that she spoke to me. Oddly enough, her sky-blue hair felt...familiar somehow. Since she’d greeted me like a friend, perhaps I had merely forgotten her. On her back was a tiny ukulele—decades old, if the peeling paint was any indication.
“Waiting for someone?” she asked casually, gazing at me. When our eyes locked, hers began to swirl into a never-ending stream of galaxies, each emerging as the vortex of her inky black pupils swallowed up the last.
“Am I...? Yeah, maybe...”
Now that she mentioned it, it felt right. I had chosen to sit here, waiting quietly for something, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t her. I tried to think of who else it could be, but now that I’d remembered I was waiting, my loneliness swelled, blooming in my chest like a fiery flower. I could forget their name and face, but not this feeling, apparently.
“Someone I want to see again as soon as possible, but...not too soon, or I’ll be sad.”
“I see, I see.”
Why would seeing them make me sad? What had separated us in the first place? And for that matter, where was I? I felt like a beached whale myself, stranded on land and gazing out at the distant sea. Did I long to return, or was I hoping something would wash up next to me? My aimless heart was throwing a tantrum, pining for that which was lost to time. Perhaps that would explain my conflicting emotions.
“When I sit here...it feels as though I can...visit them sometimes.” Judging from the warmth at my back, I was on the dividing line between sun and shade. “It makes me really happy, but...it stings...like I’m touching cold silver.”
My fingers traced over the formless feeling. Like a petal on the breeze, I was enveloped in something I couldn’t see clearly—soft and gentle, reminiscent of drowsiness, in the air and at my feet, surrounding me on all sides. It imbued everything, even the seeping warmth of the light.
“Heh heh heh! I have more or less grasped the situation,” the suspicious creature declared snappily.
“You have?”
Suddenly, I noticed the plush toys lined up beside her on the bench. My eyes were drawn to one in particular: an elephant that struck me as familiar.
“That...that...” Frustration danced on my tongue as I fumbled for the word.
“Here you are,” the whale replied, handing me the plush as readily as if it belonged to me in the first place.
I took it in my hands and raised it to eye level. As I gazed at it, I felt an odd sensation deep in my heart, as though a cold, homesick wind were blowing in through a hole in my chest.
“Would you like to have it?”
For the briefest of moments, I nearly said yes. But...
“No, you keep it. I don’t think I can take it with me.”
“Very well. I shall hold onto it for you.”
I returned the elephant, and the whale girl packed it safely away with the other plushies—a seal and a walrus, if I wasn’t mistaken. In a flash, they all disappeared inside her onesie, like a magic trick.
“In any case, I am grateful that you came out here, because I cannot directly set foot inside.”
“...Huh?”
The whale girl strummed her ukulele with a twang, playing a tune I had heard somewhere before. Then she hopped down off the bench. Despite being a whale, naturally, she walked on two legs. On land or at sea, she was unhindered.
Why had she come here, ultimately? As I wondered to myself, she seemed to intuit the unspoken question.
“I came to find you. After all, I cannot serve as a guide if I do not know the destination.”
“A guide?” For who?
But before I could ask, the whale took off running on her stubby little legs.
“Now then, I bid you farewell! Do not fear—you shall be reunited!”
And with that, she disappeared down the path, her tail wagging behind her. Her parting words were oddly convincing, too. I was willing to believe that she was right, and therefore, I was right to wait here.
The next thing I knew, the sky had switched to night, and the air felt a little heavier. Yet the flower petals carried on regardless, dancing through the darkness. They parted to the left and right, offering me that which floated above in the black expanse: a faint, fragile, beautiful light that threatened to disappear behind the drifting clouds at any moment. As I gazed at it, I began to remember all the things I wasn’t supposed to forget, and among them was her name.
All this time, I had waited for her here in this garden, sleeping, yearning to be with her again...
“......Ha ha!”
We would be reunited. Indeed, the thought gave rise to silvery feelings both happy and sad.
Sun Illuminated by Space: Coral Red
Marked with a Flower
Marked with a Flower
TO BE CLEAR, it was my own fault that I was jogging back and forth between the living room and the bedroom, but even on mornings as hectic as this one, I found myself drawn to the wall calendar we’d gotten for free from a local rice farmer. The flower that bloomed there hadn’t been planted by me but my housemate. It was large and beautiful, drawn with care—and a heavy hand, judging from the imprint the pen had left on the paper. The black ink was very much her style, too. But then again, if you asked me to explain what exactly her style was, I wouldn’t have an answer.
This flower bloomed on April 10th—my birthday, which for some reason often went uncelebrated. You might not think such a thing possible, but oddly enough, it had the tendency to slip past me. Even Adachi would sometimes only remember at the last minute. But evidently, this year would be different... When I stopped to imagine what she might have in store for me, my vision flickered like party popper confetti.
Incidentally, the text “Mine as well!” was printed in one corner—and I do mean printed, as if by typewriter. That was how I knew Yashiro had written it, although I could probably have guessed, since no one else I knew would claim to share a birthday with me. The rest of the white space was occupied by the words “Shimamura’s Birthday” in Adachi’s handwriting.
Evidently, April 10th was jam-packed this year. It felt like proof of how great life was going for me. As a side note, I was starting to realize that I would truly be “Shimamura” forever... Why did my last name make me feel so warm and fuzzy?
“The calendar’s not going to do anything special, you know,” Adachi warned as she passed behind me.
“Oh, please! I’m not expecting it to!”
“Well, you keep staring at it every time you walk by,” she continued as she got ready to leave for work.
“Really? Every time?” It was a little embarrassing to think I was subconsciously so fixated on my own birthday. “It’s the flower, I guess. Whenever I see it in my periphery, I feel the need to appreciate your masterful artistry.”
Her lips and cheeks softened faintly, as if shyly pleased at her own handiwork. Lately, I’d been quietly impressed by how much her facial expressions had improved—clearly, she had matured not just physically but emotionally, too. Whether the same growth had happened for me, however, I couldn’t tell. Maybe I hadn’t changed since high school.
“Oh, and you’re not allowed to wear the China dress on my birthday.”
“Huh?!” She froze dead in her tracks, posed like the stick figure on an emergency exit sign.
Called it, I thought with a smile. “It’s reserved for Christmas only.”
“It is?”
“It is indeed.” I vaguely remembered her wearing it outside of Christmas at some point, but that was in the past now.
Slowly, her head began to tilt. “Hmm...I guess I’ll figure out something else to wear.” With no time left to stand around and think, she opened the front door and walked out.
“It doesn’t have to be anything special, you know...”
It wasn’t like my birthday was a costume party—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her to dress up for me. Then I remembered: I had somewhere to be, too. To make up for having overslept, I bolted to the front door.
Adachi liked to spoil me by letting me sleep in until the last possible minute, so my mornings were always hectic...but it was her way of showing her love, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
***
And so, the big day rolled around. In the morning, nothing special happened beyond a “happy birthday”—no party popper, no confetti.
“After work, I kinda...need you to not come home super early.”
“So if I finish my work ahead of you, I should go kill time somewhere?”
“Well, no...but...well, yeah...”
Standing there scowling with her arms folded, Adachi was the spitting image of her mother. What could possibly be so important to prepare ahead of my arrival? When I opened the door, would it trigger a hundred fireworks or something? I made a mental note to steel myself just in case.
After surviving work by imagining what Adachi was going to wear for me, I arrived back in the neighborhood before nightfall. The sunset had sunk so far into darkness that I could stare directly at it without hurting my eyes; for some reason, I reminisced about playing basketball in the gymnasium.
“Can I come home now?”
“Give me just a little longer.”
“Okey dokey...”
Thus, I headed to the park. As I walked past the sandbox, glancing at the benches enveloped in flowers, I suddenly realized that my footsteps were accompanied by a very familiar pitter-patter. I whirled around, looked down, and a beat later, our eyes met.
“Oh, if it isn’t Shimamura-san!”
“How are you surprised when you’re the one tailing me?”
Today, Yashiro was dressed like an adorable fluffy sheep. Lately, she had taken to carrying her ukulele strapped to her back.
“Shouldn’t you be eating dinner at my parents’ place or something?”
“Heh heh heh! Worry not, for I shall make it there precisely on time.”
How was that possible, considering the distance between our two cities? “...Eh, whatever. You can kill time with me until then.”
“Okay!”
I led the sheep to the park’s swing set, where we both sat down. As I peered at her out of the corner of my eye, I thought about how handy it was to have this sparkly blue night-light next to me. She looked like something out of a picture book—just a fluffy little sheep, swinging to and fro without a care in the world, tracing an arc with her sparkles.
“Happy birthday, Shimamura-san.”
“You, too,” I replied. Only then did it sink in that I was another year older while she hadn’t changed a single bit. I had taken a step forward...whether I wanted to or not.
“Little said she will celebrate it with me.”
“She did? That’s sweet of her.”
It made me happy that the two of them were still inseparable, all these years later. My heart needed something immutable to lean on now and then. I swung forward harder, and even though I was all grown up now, the swing set supported my weight just the same.
“Adachi’s doing something for me this year, too.”
“Oh ho. That is exciting indeed.”
“Indeed.”
To revel in our shared excitement, we carried on swinging, until eventually...
“Ah, it seems dinner is nearly ready.”
The sheep leaped off of her swing, soared past the fence, then glided in a horizontal line all the way to the sandbox, as if riding on an invisible magic carpet. It was easily a record-breaking jump. But before she could bid me farewell, I called out:
“You should come by tomorrow for cake.”
“Yay!”
She ran around in giddy circles—more like a monkey than a sheep, to be honest—and the moment she vanished into the night, I suspected she’d already arrived at my parents’ house. I knew that was how it worked with her, even if I didn’t truly get it.
Then my phone buzzed: “Come on in.”
Cool, thanks.
Swinging my arms with all the excitement I’d built up from the swing set, I headed home at last.
***
And then...well...
“Wow.”
Note that I didn’t say, “What the hell?”
I did, however, come close.
When I opened the door, I found that Adachi had just arrived by time machine. Reflexively, I froze. She was wearing our old high school uniform, sweating buckets, eyes darting nervously as she tugged her skirt down.
“Wow...”
Lost for words, I inspected her from head to toe. With that old flower clip in place, even her hair was close to her old style. And the blazer jacket with the bow at the collar—it was such a flawless blast from the past, I thought my memories might weep for joy.
“I, uh, found it in one of my old boxes, so...”
So you decided to wear it for me on my birthday? Her thought process put a smile on my face, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
“You’ve kept it in good condition, huh?”
“Good enough to...wear again...with some effort.”
Despite being all grown up (or perhaps exactly for that reason), Adachi stumbled over her words, unable to suppress her embarrassment. I circled around her, admiring the uniform from a variety of angles. I could almost see that bygone sweetness, the yearning, the passion—although in reality, she was shaking like someone was taking a hammer to her glass heart.
“Yep, you could totally pass for a teenager still.”
Plenty of kids these days were as quiet and mature as her. But most importantly, she was pretty, and a pretty face could get away with anything. Unlike her younger self, she had a more refined aura—zhènghăo. I wasn’t even sure I was using that word correctly, but I couldn’t help it. She didn’t wear skirts much these days, so the view was very...hăo.
“It’s like a reminder of...our roots, or stuff. I mean, and stuff.” She laughed so awkwardly, it was as though she had truly gone back in time.
Our roots. The days when we’d barely met. To be fair, those were memories worth cherishing, so...
“Can I take a pic?”
“Khggghh?!” The blood drained from her face, and she turned to bolt.
“Don’t run, coward! Stand your ground!”
Kicking my shoes off, I gave chase. She sped off faster than I expected, vanishing from my field of vision, and was already gone by the time I reached the living room. Then I heard a sound coming from the bedroom and ran in that direction. My first move was to reach under the blanket on the bed.
“Hm. No warmth detected.”
After a moment of silliness, I turned and knocked on what I suspected was the source of the sound: the closet. As if to say occupied, there came a rapid knock back. I tried knocking harder, but didn’t get a response this time, so I stood there in front of the closet and pondered what to do next.
“So I can’t take pics?”
“Ab-ab-ab-ab...!”
Absolutely not, apparently. Alas. “I promise not to, so come on out.”
Adachi opened the door a crack, peering out suspiciously. When I beckoned for her to come out, she did so reluctantly, tugging on the checkered skirt to hide her legs.
“I hope this becomes a recurring thing for my birthday,” I announced with a grin.
“Wh... No, no, no!” She shook her head so vigorously, I thought her hair clip might fly off. “I’m never wearing it again! Ever! Forever!”
“Awww...”
“I...I can’t! Because...I’ll be even older next year!”
“That’s why I want to see it!” Frankly, she could wear it at age forty and probably still look good. “Seeing you in that uniform each year will give me the motivation to live on to the next!”
It wasn’t fair of me to bring my mortality into the conversation, but it certainly got her attention. With a little more negotiation, China dress winter could be joined by school uniform spring...and I liked the idea of adding another special tradition to our repertoire. It was the sort of thing she always used to beg for, wasn’t it?
Sure, let’s go with that.
“But anyway, setting aside the matter of your future in that uniform...”
I touched the flower clip—a gift from long ago—and she looked up at my hand with eyes as damp as twin soap bubbles. Yes! That! Something strong rose in my chest, filling me hard enough to hurt. It was everything I ever wished for, and I was satisfied.
“This is a lot of fun. Thanks, Adachi.”
Powered by spontaneity and a strong will, she always led me by the hand to places I’d never seen. And given how much I was smiling lately, I was clearly having a great time.
Sandy Fingertips
Sandy Fingertips
PERHAPS I SIMPLY DIDN’T HAVE a knack for displaying my memories. This thought came to me as I was gazing at them. The transition from left to right was a bumpy one, lacking in cohesion, and the small shelf of mementos took up an unexpectedly large portion of the living room.
The little baubles were fine, but the shirts we bought on our trips could probably go in the closet instead... Then again, even if I took them off the shelf, the display still wouldn’t make much sense. What did it need? I stepped in close, then backed away, observing from a variety of angles all around the living room.
“...Maybe I should label them?”
Then it would really look like a museum display. As I searched the house for usable paper, it occurred to me just how rarely I ever needed to write on paper as an adult; if I needed to note something down, I would simply use my phone. Did my mother still write her shopping lists on torn-off bits of random flyers?
My search ended when I found a company-branded memo pad in my work bag. I’d gotten it for free at one point and...simply left it in there, apparently. The paper was fairly wrinkled, but I decided it was good enough and tore off the number of sheets I would need.
Then, as I searched the house for a usable pen, it occurred to me—okay, you get it. As it turned out, I also had a company-branded ballpoint pen.
The next step was to move everything off the shelf and onto the desk, where I could go through and write out which trip each memento came from. As forgetful as I could be, in this case, I had no trouble—which said a lot, really.
“What are you making?” Having just finished changing our bedsheets, Adachi peered down at the desk.
“Museum labels.” After all, it’s not what you say, but how you say it—and in this case, my words alone had erected a grand three-story building.
Adachi set the dirty bedsheets on the floor and sat down next to me. Asking her would make this go a lot faster. Perhaps that was the best thing about sharing your life with other people: they helped to carry the memories that couldn’t all fit in a single brain.
“I was thinking we should display our vacation mementos with an explanation of where they came from.”
“I see. Uh...sure. That could be nice, I guess.”
“Ha ha ha! You don’t look convinced at all.”
Personally, I liked that we didn’t understand each other perfectly. Otherwise, it wouldn’t feel like I was really living alongside another person. I also appreciated that she was willing to humor me regardless.
To start with, I pointed at the thing I remembered buying with her on our first trip abroad. “What was in this box originally?” I knew it used to contain...something, but we had long since used up its contents.
“Soap, I believe... Either that, or chocolates.”
“No, I gave the box of chocolates to Yashiro, so this must have been the soap.” As we talked, the threads of memory began to unravel in my mind. “It was hand soap with a citrusy scent, like orange. I remember saying how it made me hungry every time I washed my hands.” At the time, Adachi seemed to find it funny, and when Yashiro came to visit a few days later, she had the exact same opinion as me, which I found even funnier. “Maybe I should add that story.”
The labels would seem pretty empty with just names and origins, so I decided I’d write in our anecdotes, too. Sure, nobody would ever read them except us, but they were our memories, so it made perfect sense to me.
“I hope we go on another trip sometime.”
This feeling rolled in like the tide, drawn by my writing and reminiscing. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the sunbaked sand and smell the sea...but in place of the crashing waves, what I heard was Adachi’s voice.
“We’ll need to save up for it.”
“I’m sure you can handle that part, Adachi.”
“I...I’ll do my best!”
It was kind of her not to tell me to pull my own weight—not that I needed to be told, obviously! In high school, I was a total homebody with no interest in traveling, but at some point, I’d turned into such a jet-setter that it had become my entire motivation for holding a steady job. Evidently, that first international vacation had made a big impact on me.
“My favorite part of traveling is the way the air feels completely different the moment you walk out of the airport.”
“You mentioned that before.”
“Yeah...” I spun my pen between my fingers. “Right now, as we speak, there are people I’ve never met, places I’ll never know about, undiscovered marine life at the bottom of the ocean...” I understood this about the world, and yet, in my heart of hearts, I couldn’t quite grasp it. “I want to chase that thrill.”
Where did we go after death? Was there even anywhere we could go? Perhaps those quandaries were linked in some small way to my curiosity toward the distant horizon. Maybe I’d caught periodic glimpses of the gray area between faint hope and the infinite darkness of the unknown.
“To me, home is wherever you are, Shimamura. Even if it makes me sad not to know everything there is to know.”
Even as she revealed her most unshakable depths, her words were as placid as her demeanor. In that moment, she was powerful.
“Oh, Adachi. That’s so you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Of course.” I flashed a peace sign to seal the deal, and she smiled softly. “Anyway, back on track. For our next label...what is this thing again? A cat?”
“A lion?”
Together we frowned pensively, playing tug-of-war with our memories. It would take the entire remainder of our weekend for this museum to open and close, but I was fine with that.
Our life together unfurled like a sandy beach, each grain a separate memory. As long as I stayed with Adachi, we would keep adding new places to go, making for a progressively more enjoyable stroll down memory lane. Then we’d press our hands to the sand and show each other what clung to our fingertips.
Once again, I understood why a lazy sloth like me would want to go so far for her.
Legendary
Legendary
“THE QUESTION OF ETERNITYmay yet be answered.”
“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the future of supernatural phenomena. Today, we’ll discuss an unidentified life-form that is said to be immortal. It has inspired many fragmented legends around the world, and it lives right here on this planet.”
“This life-form is said to possess a limitless lifespan and extremely high intellect.”
“Is it a spirit? A fairy? Or perhaps...a god?”
“Eyewitness testimony from around the globe has one singular detail in common: that it glows brightly, even in the dead of night with no other light source nearby. It isn’t hard to imagine why a sight like that would capture so many hearts. And as indicated at the beginning, there are records of communication in human languages.”
“Here we have an artist’s impression of the entity based on the many legends surrounding it. Arguably the most notable feature is the godliness afforded by the full-body glow. The silhouette bears a resemblance to old images of aliens, but is that the answer, or is it some manner of message? Since it has used our language, its face is believed to have a mouth, but would the ultimate life-form truly need one? Personally, I can’t help but wonder why it wasn’t omitted.”
“The way it sparkles is said to defy all known laws of the world. If it ever enters public consciousness, one foresees a demand for answers about a life-form that seems to transcend time, space, physics, and all mortal reckoning.”
“Is it out there somewhere, watching over our planet? Let’s review the most recent witness statements...”
“..................”
“Heh heh heh! These bolos are quite absorbent.”
I squinted my eyes at the little fox who sat with a fistful of bolos in one hand and a mug of milk in the other.
“A life-form said to possess a limitless lifespan and extremely high intellect...”
“Yummy.”
“...Yashiro...”
“Yes? What is it?”
I tugged out a wet wipe and sat down next to her.
“Oh, much obliged.”
I wiped the white froth from her lips, and the conversation was over.
Tahiti
Tahiti
“NOT SAYING IT’S GONNA HAPPEN right now,” I explained as I watered the cherry tomato plant we’d started growing on our narrow balcony, “but if I die while I’m asleep, I wonder if I’ll wake up here.”
The vines wrapped around the post made me think of summer. The sunniness of the balcony had inspired us to try growing something, and we’d settled on tomatoes not simply because they were delicious, but also because there was enjoyment to be had in watching them ripen day by day.
Adachi came and crouched down next to me. “What are you talking about?”
“When I think about what happens after death, I can’t help but wonder if the soul has to leave the body manually. Instead of waking up already in heaven, maybe we start here and try to stick around for a while.”
If so, then perhaps Adachi and I would wake up in apartments where the other was missing. As I gazed at her through the reflection of the glass, I found myself sad at the prospect of passing straight through each other.
“Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about while watering the plant,” I finished.
“Hm,” she grunted, inspecting the tomatoes.
“You don’t care at all, do you?”
“That’s not true. Pretty sure I used to think about that stuff in high school.”
“Ha ha ha! I guess I’m still mentally a teenager.”
“It’s good to be young.”
Sometimes I worried that Adachi was too sweet to me. But hey, I liked it sweet.
“We’re both totally healthy right now, but we’re going to die one day, and that’s a fact. Isn’t that wild?” When every day was this uneventful, I could almost convince myself that it would last forever. I had a bad habit of forgetting that eventually we’d grow old and pass away. Everything I held now was finite, and yet I often let it slip unnoticed through my fingers... “Am I boring you?”
“Nope. I’m just happy you’re telling me what’s on your mind.” Bathing in the sunlight alongside our tomatoes, Adachi had a wistful expression on her face, so I decided to keep going a little longer.
“I don’t even know if there’s an afterlife... Honestly, there probably isn’t.”
Maybe inside other people’s heads, if one existed at all. After all, people could live on in our memories long after their physical form was gone. So long as those memories had yet to fade, one could argue that they were still with us... Sometimes I wondered if perhaps that was what ghosts truly were.
“When we die, maybe everything instantly goes black, like an unplugged TV. But that would be scary, so I do hope there’s something afterward. I figure that’s why people came up with the concept of heaven and all that—because they’re scared.”
“I hope I get to stay with you, Shimamura, even after I’m gone.”
“I mean, yeah, I’d like that, too.”
The tomatoes were now officially watered. Our blue elephant-shaped watering can was purchased at the local 100-yen store, and when Yashiro visited, she would sometimes play with it. Considering she had stayed exactly the same over the years, perhaps she was an eternal being, fated never to know death herself... Sounds dull, I thought.
“Should we decide on a rendezvous point for after we die?” I suggested, amid a deluge of imagined what-ifs and impossibilities.
Stroking the tomatoes, Adachi smiled gently. “Sounds good.”
“Okay, then, let’s meet up at a park or something. I don’t mind if it’s local, or if it’s one I’ve never been to.”
“What about right here?”
“No,” I replied, shaking the emptied elephant as I gave my half-assed explanation: “If we’re going on a date, it can’t be at our house.”
For a moment, she blinked back at me, but then her lips melted into a smile. “I see your point.” Satisfied, she rose to her feet. Then she turned and patiently held out her hand. Instead of lunging for my hand, she was now able to wait for it.
I took her hand in mine, and together we set off walking. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“To scope out a good rendezvous point.” Or, in other words: on a walk.
Where had we come from, and where were we headed? To find out, we would have to find our Tahiti.
Sakura the Scold
Sakura the Scold
I KNEW THE EASIEST THING to do would be to apologize, so I softened my voice. “I’m sooorry. It’s my faaault.”
“No, it’s not your fault...but...”
Like a sea urchin, her spines poked out at all angles, stabbing into me as I sat beside her, but not enough to hurt. To lighten the mood, I headbutted her—but struck her harder than I intended. That hurt.
“Ow, ow, ow...”
“What are you doing, Shimamura?”
“Demonstrating proof of our friendship.”
And our friendship, it seemed, was painful. I poked her on the shoulder.
“I’m not mad at you,” she replied, but her voice was hard, and all I could do was laugh nervously.
It had all started over nothing; I’d merely recounted the day’s events over dinner. Events which included an invitation from a coworker to grab a meal together. But to my dear Adachi-chan, naturally, this was not nothing.
“Grrr...”
“It was just a casual invitation.”
“And the answer is no,” she shot back, building a wall of thorns on my behalf, even though the intruder in question wasn’t here.
“That’s what I said!”
“Obviously.”
The thorns grew a little harder, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the nostalgia of it. Things were so peaceful lately, I never got to experience the old Adachi.
“That invitation is proof that they’re pursuing you.”
“You really think so?”
“Really,” she declared firmly.
At the time, the invitation hadn’t seemed flirtatious in any way, but it would have been just the two of us rather than a group setting, so maybe it was. Was my coworker really in pursuit of me? Suddenly, the office felt like a jungle.
“I just don’t like it...” Resting her chin on her elbow, her scowl deepened into powerful forehead creases.
“You’re spoiling your good looks, Adachi.”
Which wasn’t true, actually—she was beautiful regardless of what expression she wore. It was impressive, really. No matter what emotion was on display, she was a pretty picture. Even at her most unpolished, she was simply built differently. And yet somehow, a girl like that was my girlfriend, and therefore, no invitation could ever be superior. Was it any wonder, then, that I had so little to say about it? I couldn’t even remember how exactly I turned them down.
As I was thinking about it, however, Adachi suddenly looked up. “What you don’t get is...you’re pretty, Shimamura!”
“Uh...I am?” She spoke so emphatically, it made my cheeks itch. “Surely not as pretty as you, though.”
“This isn’t about me,” she shot back, complete with a flicking gesture as if to toss herself away. Where did she learn to do that?
“Okay, we’ll put you over there for now. Your point?”
“It’s not your fault that people talk to you. You’re pretty, and your body language is cute—actually, no, I’m starting to think I can’t just shrug my shoulders at this. It’s bad!”
Apparently, her anger had reignited in the middle of her sentence. As for me, I was feeling a little flustered from the compliments. “Well, don’t you get invitations like that?”
“What? Not at all,” she answered without hesitation.
Don’t be ridiculous, I thought to myself as I looked her up and down—hey, don’t get bashful on me! “From where I’m standing, that makes no sense.”
There were myriad ways to respond to her beauty, from admiration to envy. Surely, at least one person must have wanted to lay claim to it.
“Hmmm... Maybe I did at some point...?” At my pushback, she started to second-guess herself. Could she have ignored it so fully that it hadn’t even registered? Dang, she’s powerful. “But there aren’t many people at my office to begin with.”
“Oh yeah, you mentioned that.”
“And I’m not important right now.” Once again, an imaginary Adachi went flying into the corner of the living room. They were starting to pile up over there. “My point is, I think you need to start paying more attention to your surroundings, Shimamura.”
“Like you’re one to talk!”
“Maybe I need to explain to you how you come across to other people...”
Sighing at her own carelessness, Adachi straightened up and turned to face me.
Up next: the lecture.
Wait, “up next”?
Sakura the Scold: Part 2
Sakura the Scold:
Part 2
“SHIMAMURA, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL—you always have been—but specifically it’s when you’re gazing into the distance that you’re truly incredible. The look in your eyes suggests a mysterious sort of passion, as if you’ve overcome a hurdle, and it’s impossible to ignore. If you’re pretty while just spacing out, you can imagine how much prettier you are when you’re not, right? Not only that, but your kindness—your softness—seeps in slowly. Do you understand how that draws people in? Obviously, I was one of them, but when I see just how soft you are, I start to worry. You smile sweetly for everyone, and it causes confusion, to the point that I can’t help but think maybe you should rein it in a little. Are you listening, Shimamura? You’d better be, if you want to do better going forward. Because there will be more invitations from coworkers in the future. Trust me, after spending enough time with you, they won’t be able to help themselves. You’re just so precious. And they’re not wrong to feel that way. They’re objectively correct. Anyone would agree. It’s true. But it’s bad. Because, well...you’ve got me, right? Me. You already have me, so it’s bad. I wish I could label you—write my name on you—but that would be weird. I get that. Even I know better. That’s why you need to be direct with them. But then again...ugh, I hate it. I hate that you get these invitations at all. I hate that they’re near you, looking at you like that. For eight hours a day, no less. It’s as unnatural as a bronze statue in Antarctica, spoiling the snow... Yes, I want your surroundings to stay pure and untainted, because it’s the backdrop that suits you best. That’s how I feel when I see your face in profile. Part of me wants to admire you for the rest of my life, but obviously, I also want to be with you, and that’s why I feel I ought to stay as invisible as possible when I’m by your side. I don’t know if I’m any good at it, but at least I understand, unlike these other people. I don’t know how to explain it, but...their colors are too bright, and I hate it. Your light is a delicate thing that disappears in loud environments. Most people are satisfied with fakes, so they don’t get it, but me? I love that ephemeral light. I’m not sure why, but when I look at it up close, it tugs on my heartstrings hard enough to bring me to tears. Sometimes I think maybe that’s just how strongly my heart is drawn to it. But I want to be the only one to have discovered it, you know? I don’t want anyone else to get in the way. Does that make sense? The people who approach you thoughtlessly will never understand; they’re only interested in skimming the surface of your charm. But I can’t deny that your surface is charming, which makes things difficult, and therefore you need to be aware of it, and as for how exactly to improve on that point, I’m not saying you have to force yourself to act like me, but if you let your disinterest show more openly, if we consider it the bare minimum form of self-defense, then I don’t think it’s such a bad thing. Anyway, are you listening, Shimamura? The only reason I didn’t say something sooner is because I assumed you naturally understood...”
Sakura the Scold: Part 3
Sakura the Scold:
Part 3
TWO PARTS WOULD BE too easy. Ideally, I wanted to finish with a third. Besides, the explanation was so technical, it was hard for someone at my level to grasp. For that matter, I was ready to die from all this excessive praise. She kept asking if I was listening, but poor old Shima-chan’s ears were practically on fire.
Still, I knew if I kept nodding along, it would never end. So I decided the best tactic would be to strike back with a rebuttal and end on a draw.
“May I?” I asked politely, requesting the opportunity to speak.
At this point Adachi’s tongue had loosened into fluency, but nevertheless she froze hard, as if she’d hit a wall. From there, I started to push back.
“I don’t appreciate you saying you’re ‘not important,’ because to me, you are.”
By no stretch of the imagination did I draw more attention than Adachi. She had turned heads since high school at the least—probably since junior high, if I had to guess. Back then, we spent so much time together that I never paid it any mind, but now that we spent eight hours apart at work each day, I had started to notice it. She was a beacon of beauty from head to toe, and there was simply no way people weren’t drawn to her from miles away.
My original intention was just to end the lecture, but the more I thought about it, the more conflicted I felt. Great, now I’m in her shoes.
“Like I said, this isn’t about me—”
“Yes, it is.” She started to throw her imaginary self at the wall again, but I caught her in midair. “If I’m understanding correctly, all you want is for other people not to invite me anywhere.”
“Yeah, but that’s impossible because you’re so beautiful.”
This conversation was going in circles, so I thought of a tentative solution: “Should I wear a ring?”
As I waved my left hand, Adachi watched intently. Her eyes went wide at first, but over time her understanding solidified, and she nodded. “Yeah...maybe we could wear matching ones.”
She seemed to prefer that idea, which made sense, considering we used to wear matching hair clips back in the day. As adults, we had decided to store them away as a memento, but perhaps we could revive the tradition in a different form.
If I had made this suggestion back then, Adachi would have changed colors like a stoplight, but these days, her blush was faint. Strange as it may sound, she really mellowed out after we started sleeping together. I wasn’t sure exactly what had changed or how, but I suspected she must have finally found a sense of security. If anything, it felt like I was the bashful one now.
“Then we may as well get married.”
Legality aside, it was the spirit of the thing that mattered. Together, we flaunted the backs of our hands, as if to show off a pair of rings we weren’t yet wearing. In a way, it felt like a sort of salute.
And so it was that Adachi and I rather casually decided to get married.
Then she’d be Shimamura Sakura...or would I be Adachi Hougetsu? Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad.
For a moment, I was seriously considering it.
After the Bubble Bursts
After the Bubble Bursts
“I ALMOST SPOKE TO YOU in English just now, purely out of habit.”
“You’ve adapted, huh?”
“Ha ha ha ha...”
She had responded to my joke with a straight-faced compliment, so all I could do was laugh. At myself.
Our international vacation offered excitement and relaxation in equal measure. The world beyond the bounds of our motherland was similarly constructed beyond the bounds of what we came to expect, and as we walked along and took it all in, the smell of the foreign winds carved itself deep in my nostrils and my heart. It was incredible. The buildings and storefronts were decorated in ways I never would have imagined, and the sight of it made me realize that the world was not, in fact, restricted to what my mind was capable of conjuring. That singular feeling was easily the most thrilling of all.
Then, after a long day of sightseeing, the time spent zoning out in the hotel room transformed my fatigue into cozy drowsiness. I ate a little too much at dinner, flopped down on the firm mattress, and found that it was exactly what my body needed. When I closed my eyes, I could practically hear myself snoring already.
In contrast to my self-indulgence, after drawing a bath, Adachi had started packing her bags. She was also in charge of keeping our money safe... Wait, but then what was I in charge of? At this rate, I was in real danger of falling asleep, so I flailed around, struggling to get up.
“Cute,” she commented. But she always spoiled me with praise regardless.
Defeated, I stopped flailing and merely tracked her with my eyes as she crouched down next to the other bed. When she tilted her head down, the flow of her hair captivated me, and a few words tumbled off my tongue.
“You’re, like...really pretty, Adachi.”
As my honest opinion slipped out, her hands fell still in the middle of packing, and she turned to look at me. “What? Where did that come from?”
It was hardly the first compliment I’d ever paid her, and yet she was visibly flustered. Now that she had matured, she only ever lost her composure in times like these when I caught her off-guard with my unprompted mumbling. Hence, these days I made it my mission to purposely seek out those vulnerable moments... Maybe I had turned into my mother.
“Watching you right now has me completely convinced.” Call it sentimentality, but with my head empty and my tummy full, I was feeling like an open book. “You, my dear, are a rare beauty indeed.”
“Oh, please!” She waved me off with both hands—so hard, I thought she might achieve liftoff, and it made me laugh out loud.
“If you’re a ten, then I’m somewhere between six and seven at most.”
Even that was possibly too high. After all, nearly everyone who met Adachi commented on how pretty she was, whereas I had only ever gotten those comments from...well, her and Tarumi, I guess. Clearly, there was a big difference between us.
“You’re a hundred,” Adachi countered without missing a beat, just as I’d suspected she might. “Even if there were ten of me, we could never be you.”
“I mean, yeah...” No amount of one person would ever equal another. But on the other hand, she knew me better than I knew myself, so it was kind of funny to think she still couldn’t replicate me.
“That’s why we have to stay together, Shimamura.”
“...I don’t really get it, but it sounds great.”
I enjoyed how it resonated with my illogical side. Rubbing my full tummy, I closed my eyes, then stretched my arms out. It almost felt like I was chin-deep in a dream—but I suspected what engulfed me was more accurately described as contentment. I was close enough to reach out and grab it, but decided against it, lest I lose the ability to let go.
“Wanna get in the tub first?” she asked.
“Mmm... Nah, I can wait until you’re done.”
“But you’ll probably fall asleep while I’m in there.”
True. Now that I had accepted the obvious—that it was a bad idea to remain horizontal—I raised both legs and swung them back down, using the momentum to sit upright on the bed. Much less likely to doze off this way. “Behold, the beautiful nightscape.”
“It’s too dark to see anything.”
“Tell me about it.” The window was seemingly angled away from any light source, affording us a view of nothing but darkness. “I hope it’ll be sunny tomorrow.”
Tomorrow our plans were to journey through the skies by parachute. What was it called again? Paragliding? No, parasailing? It had taken me over ten years to catch up to Yashiro, but at long last, I would find out how it felt to fly. I was so excited, I’d probably see it in my dreams tonight—not that I would remember by the morning.
I hopped down off the bed and walked to the window, where I could faintly see the building across from ours. Then I peered upward at the clouds flowing across the night—sickly pale, as if they’d absorbed all the moonlight from the sky. Why did the sight of them invite my heart to start aching? As I stood there in silence, my gaze moving on autopilot, Adachi walked up to observe it with me.
“It’s like I’m seeing these foreign sights through the lens of a soap bubble,” I said unprompted. “That’s my favorite part.”
The memories of trips abroad were always cemented with blurry edges, as if the soap bubble in this metaphor was in fact the haze of my own recollection.
“You’re very sensitive, huh, Shimamura?”
No one had ever said this about me before, and it made me blush a little. “Is that your way of calling me a poet?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I rarely understand how you feel, even when we’re both looking at the exact same thing.”
With a soft thud, she leaned her head against mine, crushing our hair together as we cuddled. Whenever I spoke of these nebulous feelings, Adachi seldom showed signs of agreement—proof, perhaps, that we were actually at odds in a lot of cases—but personally, I loved that about us.
“It’s okay. Even ten of you could never be me.”
“Yeah,” she answered curtly, and I sensed in it both sadness and acceptance. But as she gazed upward, her lips gleamed with satisfaction. “It doesn’t hurt to have a long-term goal, though.”
“...I guess not.”
A hint of foreign air leaked in through the gap in the window frame, wetting my wrist. Together, we admired the distant scenery, adding to our catalog of soap bubbles—because we knew that one day, they would burst.
Herald of Winter
Herald of Winter
“IT JUST DOESN’T FEEL like winter until I see you in that state.”
“Hmmnn?”
I was bundled up in a blanket, warming my body and brain alike, when I heard Adachi’s voice and looked up. As she sat beside me on the sofa, she reached out and stroked my hair with her fingers like she was petting a cat.
“Should I turn up the heat?”
“Nah, that’s okay. I wear it for the fashion, too, y’know.”
It wasn’t for lack of warmth—if anything, being cloaked up to my shoulders in fabric was a little too toasty. Nevertheless, there I was, lying on my side like a burrito, crushing my face in a sofa cushion as we watched TV together. It made for a warm weekend indeed.
“Fashion, huh?”
“As Sei Shounagon once said: In winter, the early mornings.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Her retort was perfectly polished; in the past, she would have shrugged it off with “Uh...o-okay.” As for me, I had begun to reveal myself as someone who didn’t think too hard about the words that came out of her mouth. Really, the fact that she wasn’t sick of me only encouraged me to push my luck further. But hey, if she wanted to enable me, I was all too happy to oblige.
“Don’t you feel secure when you have a blanket on you? Or something that’s covering you?”
“Mmm...” It didn’t seem to resonate with her, perhaps because she was never much bothered by the cold.
“For me, blankets are comforting. That’s why I bundle up with a thin one during summer, too.”
“Ah, I see... That explains it.”
She nodded wistfully, as if thinking back to last summer. Now it occurred to me that my daily routine didn’t really change over the course of the year. Should I try to be more...seasonally appropriate? I considered it, but I didn’t get up.
“It explains why you look so happy under the covers,” she continued.
“What? I do?”
“Your lips and cheeks kinda mush together.”
“I guess my face melts.” Like the way hers used to, once upon a time, whenever she was feeling the slightest bit bashful. “Wait...are you saying I don’t look happy all the time?”
At this critique, she directed her gaze into the distance, away from her misstep. “Well, I mean...”
“You can’t feel my happiness, Adachi?!” I started to say that’s hurtful, but before I could get the words out, my neck suddenly stretched. “Nnguh!”
With her hands on my jaw and neck, Adachi tugged me into a new position: head resting on her thighs. I could tell she was trying to avoid the question, and with my cheek squished against her leg, it was super effective.
“I hope spring gets here soon.”
“Yeahhh...” Even my responses were melting like snow. “It’s depressing to be alone in the wintertime.”
Perhaps human beings felt an instinctual fear toward the cold season. All of our emotions were really just primal urges dressed up with names, and we cherished them like gemstones. But because we took them for granted, over time, they grew cloudy from lack of polish...which was why we sometimes needed to stop and be mindful of them.
“I’d be depressed without you any time of year, Shimamura.”
“Yeahhh...” In that case, we’d need to stick together through the seasons. Business as usual. “So, what do I look like right now?”
Funny how we knew so little of the version of ourselves that lived alongside other people. As she gazed at me, Adachi’s eyes flipped from shadow to sparkle, as if in dance.
“Really cute.”
“Cool...”
Having garnered a favorable review, I decided not to stop her from appreciating my squashed face. But the end of winter, I suspected, was still quite far off.
Simple and Clean
Simple and Clean
AT MY PARENTS’ PLACE, I had given up on doing some type of chore and was standing around zoning out when my father peeked out from the living room. “Hougetsu, come here for a minute,” he called, waving me over. It wasn’t common for him to purposely seek me out. Crushing my mental fubar like a yawn, I walked into the living room.
He seemed no different from usual, right down to the marks on his face that suggested it was recently buried in a cushion in front of the TV. There was even a slumped beanbag chair next to him that someone was previously reclining on. Can’t imagine who.
“Go on, have a seat.”
“Okay.”
At his prompting, I sat down. He joined me, kneeling formally at first, then changed his mind and relaxed. “Mmm.”
“Did you want to talk?”
“Mmm.”
That’s not an answer. Folding his arms, he glanced around the room, hesitating.
This time, it was my turn to try. “Mmm.”
With his grunt now stolen away, he grimaced. “Hmmm.”
“Well? What is it?”
“To whom it may concern, I hope this letter finds you in good health...”
“Dad?”
“On second thought, I hope you are keeping well, despite the summer heat...”
“Oookay.”
Suddenly, my dad had turned into a school principal at an assembly. With a groan of defeat, he donned a self-deprecating smile. “I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t quite know how.”
“That self-assessment does sound accurate.”
He nodded proudly, but it wasn’t meant as a compliment. “Hmmm... Let me think...”
“Is it a touchy subject?”
“Well...are you keeping up on housework, pray tell?”
“Uhhh...yeah.”
Despite my mother’s laid-back personality, she was actually a clean freak, and this house was filled with pleasant air in every room. Likewise, I must have inherited it from her, because to my own surprise, I would often catch myself cleaning of my own volition. Adachi herself had recently remarked that I was good at it. But of course, Adachi would praise me no matter what I did.
“Are you cooking for yourself, pray tell?”
“Yeah...”
On weekdays, going straight from the office to the kitchen required me to scrape myself up off the entryway floor—a level of willpower akin to doing a ski jump—but lately, the motions came more naturally to me. Over time, it would surely get easier...though I doubted there’d come a day when I didn’t immediately collapse the moment I got home.
“Is your work going well, pray tell?” It was a little late to comment on it, but did he have to end every question like that?
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
In the beginning, I had my misgivings about the concept of holding a job, but once I got accustomed to it, it didn’t actually take much effort on my part at all. Like high school, I merely needed to do the tasks that were laid out in front of me. Of course, this time there was no gym loft to hide in, but now that I had a proper sanctuary of my own, I didn’t feel the need.
By this point, I had a good idea of what my father wanted to discuss. Put broadly, he most likely just wanted to know how my new life was going. And given that I had no problems to report on any of those fronts, it was evidently going well.
Once I started living with Adachi, I thought we’d discover things we didn’t like about each other, but...to be perfectly blunt, I was already familiar with her most aggravating traits. I had simply chosen to interpret them as proof of her dedication, and so here we were; as far as I was concerned, the general framework of our relationship had no reason to change. This was probably true from Adachi’s perspective, too. She had the tendency to spoil me rotten...not that I was complaining.
“Hmmm... Basically, what I’m asking is...”
“Yes?”
Having finally found the ideal phrasing, he looked straight into my eyes. “Are you having fun?”
“Lots of fun.”
Of all the answers I’d given him, this one was the firmest. My life with Adachi felt like playing with building blocks—figuring out, through trial and error, how to arrange what I had and where to fit in any new additions. Then, once everything was in place, I would admire my handiwork. Words and dreams and feelings all came and went, passing gently back and forth over the blocks. Nearly everything I could want from life was right there in that pile. But then, would I have bothered to leave my parents’ house for anything less? After all, I liked my family a fair bit...by which I mean a lot.
Satisfied with my answer, my father unfolded his arms. “Okay, then. I mean, I was aiming for more of a heartfelt conversation...”
“Ha ha ha!”
Evidently, it was a considerable struggle for him. Uncertain about the quality of his output, he scratched his head. “When it comes to important talks, perhaps I’m as bad as your mother.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She tended to run screaming from serious topics, and as much as I hated to admit it, I had inherited that from her, too; Adachi had pointed it out to me.
“Have you finished your discussion, pray tell?”
A fishy face peered at us from the doorway, her little button eyes full of omega-3 fatty acids. Grinning at the running gag, I beckoned her over. “Yeah, get in here.”
“Yaaay!”
Her fish onesies were generally hard to tell apart, but this one was obviously a tuna. A highly considerate tuna, too, since she had waited quietly in the hall for us to finish.
“Heh heh heh!”
This particular species could also read minds, apparently.
“This particular species is a southern bluefin tuna.”
“I’m learning a lot today.”
The tuna fish leaped onto the beanbag cushion next to my father, then smugly held up a bag of potato chips she was clutching in one fin. “Mama-san tossed me out of the kitchen again, but this time, she also tossed me a snack.”
“Oooh, that’s generous of her.” Smiling, my father clapped his hands.
“Now that the discussion is over, let us all partake.”
Gluttonous as she was, she could have hoarded them all to herself, but she chose not to—proof that this alien was a good girl at heart. Then again, a pet mooch arguably wasn’t entitled to hoard anything in the first place.
“All of us? Then you should go get my sister.”
“Indeed, I shall!”
The bluefin raced off gleefully—quite the surreal sight from behind, I noted.
“That alien girl really helps a lot,” my father remarked with a jovial grin. “Without her around, this house would be a bit too quiet.”
It wasn’t until a hint of sadness seeped into his smile that I realized the weight of the void I’d left behind. Put simply, my presence here was no longer a given. Granted, it was something I had chosen for myself, but still... I started to speak, but right as the air rested on my tongue—
“When you walk awaaay, you don’t hear me saaay, pleeease...!”
Out of nowhere, a voice—what could technically be considered a singing voice—rang out from the kitchen, and my father’s soft smile stiffened.
“On second thought, I take it back.”
“Good idea.”
At times, my mother had the ability to inadvertently grasp other people’s feelings. It was quite possibly her most virtuous trait.
Late Bloomer
Late Bloomer
IT WAS A PERK we hadn’t taken into consideration when we chose the place, but as it turned out, we could enjoy the local fireworks show from our window. Well...some of it. The low-altitude ones, while still audible, were hidden behind the neighboring buildings, but we had a clear view of the colors they fired high into the sky.
It wasn’t even June yet when the first deep boom shook our walls. Curious, I walked to the window and caught sight of the pyrotechnics.
“Adachi! Fireworks!”
She was just drying her hands after washing the dishes; when I beckoned to her, she started in my direction, then stopped and doubled back to the fridge. “Any sodas...? Nope.” After an unsuccessful search, she brought over two bottled teas. I took one, and together we stepped out onto the balcony.
Leaning against the railing, I craned my neck until I spotted the sparkle of the fireworks—so close, I could practically smell the gunpowder. The explosions alternated between red and green, dyeing the sky and its fleecy clouds, bringing them into sharp relief.
“Saves us having to leave the house, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Our eyes met, and on a whim, we toasted our drinks with a dull clunk. Not as fun with plastic bottles, I thought with a smile. I hadn’t achieved anything—it wasn’t even a Friday—yet for some reason, my spirits were high.
Though the night breeze was weak, the fireworks kept going strong. The air was a bit muggy, almost like the scattered sparks were resting against my skin. Meanwhile, Adachi gazed up at the starry sky, her face painted in each flash of light...and as I stood beside her, I admired the marriage of color and beauty, like a work of art.
“Really takes you back, doesn’t it? Not just the fireworks, but festivals in general,” I commented to her as I took a sip of tea. “Remember?”
She lowered her gaze to me, her lips curling faintly. “I could never forget.”
“Yeah, I imagine it was pretty intense for you.”
After all, she had confessed her love in a spray of blood from her bitten tongue—a characteristic explosion of passion. Was the memory a happy one in her mind?
“Actually...I think I might have repressed about half of it,” she corrected herself after a pause, her brow furrowed.
“Ha ha ha!” I had suspected as much, considering she was practically unresponsive when I walked her home that night.
She was so desperate back then. I could recall every last moment of it like it was yesterday; in fact, were it not for that desperation, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. She used to have to drag me, but now we walked side by side...and since it came with the side perk of cool fireworks, it didn’t seem all that bad. Watching her made me feel like I could vaguely understand the meaning of life.
Setting my tea bottle on the railing, I put my chin in my hand and observed the fireworks. Likewise, Adachi followed suit. Fortunately, I was in the back, so I had a great view of both.
“Watching from here is fun and all, but if there’s a festival close by, would you wanna check it out?”
It was quite possibly the first festival invitation I had ever initiated. When we were teens, Adachi was the one who did all the work, so I figured it was about time I pulled my weight.
She turned to look at me, and as she gazed at my firework-lit forehead, she broke into a wide grin. “That could be fun, too.”
“I don’t have a yukata to wear, though.” But if I had the chance to visit my parents before the next one rolled around, maybe I could bring a few home with me.
There was a lull in the explosions—an intermission in the show, perhaps. Now that the palette of colors had faded from the clouds, they sailed silently past. I searched for the moon, but it must have been sitting at a different angle, because I couldn’t find it. The night had lost all sound, returning to its proper state.
“I love you, Adachi.”
With my chin still resting on my palm, it may as well have slipped out from my tilted ear. There was no wind, nothing to drown it out, and so it slammed into my skull with just the right amount of force, despite having said it myself. Still craning her neck, Adachi looked at me blankly, suggesting she hadn’t processed it yet, and as we locked eyes...well...the backs of my ears began to itch.
“I mean...I just figured I ought to say it at least once.” Belated though it was, this was my answer. “I never did say it that night, did I?”
At my question, her face crumpled, then flushed, and then she threw her arms around me, tight enough to engulf every nook and cranny. The height difference knocked me slightly off balance. Pinned between us, her hair stabbed into my neck, tickling me.
“You’re gonna miss the fireworks!”
“It’s fine.”
With her face buried firmly against me, her voice was completely muffled, which made me smile in exasperation. My bones hurt a little. But it was just like Adachi to choose me over pretty sights. Go figure, right?
My face burned.
Then the fireworks started up again, changing colors like a kaleidoscope. A select few of them started as tiny dots, then expanded in the sky. And as my vision filled with beauty—fireworks and Adachi, both sparkling—my cheeks trembled.
What an incredible world I’ve found myself in.
I Believe It’s Called an Apothecary Mortar
I Believe It’s Called an Apothecary Mortar
GLAD IT DIDN’T HAPPEN DURING THE WEEK,but what a waste of a weekend, I thought to myself as I rolled over.
The two of us had caught a tidy little cold. It started with sore throats in the morning, and by lunchtime, we were both showing clear signs of a fever. Maybe it worked like this for everyone, but the moment I realized I had a fever, I instantly started to feel a lot sicker. As we staggered around, we decided we were better off resting for the day, and now here I was, on my side.
When only one of us was sick, we were supposed to quarantine away from each other, but what about when it was both of us? Would our collective germs make our illness worse? In light of this possibility, we were resting separately: Adachi in the bedroom and me in the living room. She’d tried to let me have the bed, but I’d convinced her that I should take the sofa, since I would have an easier time sleeping on it.
If it were just one of us, we could have a cute moment of caretaking, but with both of us laid up, all we could do was lie here in different rooms. Since our symptoms were almost exactly the same, we were probably equally as miserable. Hard to say which of us caught this bug first.
It was early May, when the weather was unpredictable, and that afternoon, it felt like the whole world had a fever. Unable to sleep, I was looking at my cell phone. Useful things to have, aren’t they? Without them, Adachi would probably never leave my side.
My voice was too hoarse to handle a phone call, but I could talk over text. It was a rather demure form of communication, considering we were under the same roof—almost like we were pen pals.
“My understanding of the common cold just got an update: the closer you are to 100 degrees, the worse your chills get. So when you feel cold, that’s how you know you still have a fever.”
“Great. Just what I wanted to know.”
Tell me about it, I thought. “For the longest time, I’ve always wanted to use one of those grindy things to make medicine from grass. Ugh, I wish I could do it for you! I mean, you hardly ever get sick!”
“Grass? Just, like...any old grass?”
“Yeah.”
“And you eat it?”
“You can also apply it topically.”
“For a cold? Apply it where?”
Good question—maybe it was better taken orally in this case. It reminded me of the bitter tea I’d once tasted abroad. There was a street stand where all types of grass were hanging from the roof, and they let you pick one to make tea. One of these was labeled “bitter tea,” and out of curiosity, I chose it. Sure enough, it was so unimaginably bitter, any old grass would surely have been sweeter.
“Your fever’s somewhere around 100 degrees, right, Adachi?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I win.”
“Let me win next time, okay?”
“Of course.”
My back felt like it was creaking in pain; my nose and throat were perpetually dry, begging for water, but my mouth was overflowing with saliva. My whole body was in an uproar, trying to fix this unexpected problem, and I could only pray that it would kick this thing’s ass. I rolled over yet again and curled into a ball, pressing my knees against the back of the sofa and slowly exhaling the pain in my joints.
With both of us in bed, the house was naturally quiet, so I carried on typing: “What do you wanna do once we’re better?”
“Listen to your voice.”
Adachi truly had no interest in anything other than me. I must have had this realization a dozen times, and yet somehow, it always made me blush from the forehead down. In my eyes, it was a genuine talent to love another person that strongly. Perhaps that was why she used to be so anxious in the past—because she expected me to rise to the same level of passion.
“Once my throat feels better—want me to sing something for you?”
“I’d love that.”
“I was joking! How long’s it been since we last went to karaoke, anyway?” As far as I could recall, we hadn’t been back since that outing with Hino and Nagafuji—the one where Adachi had seemed really uncomfortable. “Can you remember?”
“When we went with Hino and Nagafuji?”
“You didn’t seem like you had fun that time.”
“Sure I did... Well, okay, maybe not.” These days, Adachi was more honest with her feelings. She simply didn’t find joy in making lots of friends. “I prefer to be alone with you, Shimamura.”
“I know.” I had chosen her in spite of that, and now here I was, building a kingdom for just us. Right now, it was overrun with the plague and in desperate need of support.
“Even if we were the last two people on Earth, I could live with that.”
On the contrary, this message gave me the feeling that it would be a dream come true for her. I was Adachi’s whole world, granting her everything she could possibly need with my own two hands, and at times it made me feel like a god.
“If that happened, I’d probably at least give it a try,” I wrote. Just the two of us, stumbling around a silent world without a bird in the sky... Perhaps we could make it work. “Once we’re better, maybe we could sing together like old times?”
“At karaoke?”
“Or at home, whichever.”
So long as we kept our voices down to avoid bothering the neighbors, we could sing the praises of our kingdom. That was how I felt as I recovered. This time around, we’d both caught it, but next time, it might only be one of us...and so I decided I would buy one of those grindy things in preparation for the next time Adachi got sick.
When the Little Bird Dreams
When the Little Bird Dreams
AT ONE POINT, my sister had compared this creature to a fairy. To be fair, she did scatter sparkly motes of light, and everywhere except her skin glowed bright blue, so she was clearly different from other living beings. Even then, she simply sat on the sofa and played her ukulele. I suspected she could quite literally do anything, and yet she chose to do nothing. Maybe that was the best thing about her.
Today, she was dressed like a bush warbler, twanging along on the strings of her ukulele. To be clear, it wasn’t actually making a twang sound—that was just how it looked.
“You’ve been inseparable from that thing for a while now. Is it your favorite?” I didn’t remember her owning a toy ukulele before.
“Papa-san purchased it for me.”
“I see.” Odd. Usually, the only gifts she wanted were of the edible persuasion.
“He said it looks vaguely fitting in my hands.”
“That’s because my dad is weird.” This was easy to forget, since my mother’s antics tended to overshadow it. In any case, I was glad she was getting along with my family.
Sometimes it floored me to think that I’d known her for nearly a decade now. My sister had grown so much in that time, yet Yashiro remained identical to the day we met. Her manner of speech, her way of life, her sparkle—all of it carried on existing without changing in the slightest.
Perhaps this was a metaphor for the planet we lived on. Even if it did change, we most likely wouldn’t be able to see it.
“Oh well. Maybe staying the same is a virtue of yours.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“After a fashion.”
“Yay!” Her delight overlapped with another twang. Thinking back to the maracas from before: This kid really seemed to like musical instruments.
Then Adachi called, letting me know that she was waiting to get on the train and wouldn’t be home for a while longer. Knowing Yashiro would surely stick around until after we ate dinner, I sat down next to her.
“Did you finish your phone call?” she asked, surreptitiously moving her precious bag of candy away from me. I saw that, punk.
“A ukulele, huh?” I knew the name and what they looked like, but I’d never really had the chance to touch one until now. “Can I borrow it?”
Upon request, Yashiro dutifully handed it over. Then she plunged her hand into the bag and pulled out a colorful cube of candy. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and lit up with nostalgia. I used to eat those in kindergarten; they came two to a bag.
“Can I have one of those, too?”
“Ho ho ho! Feeling greedy, are we, Shimamura-san? What color would you like?”
First, I paused to remember what colors there were. “I seem to remember liking the purple one for being really pretty.”
“Purple, you say? Ah, here’s one.” She handed me a bag with purple and red candies inside.
“Thanks.”
I popped both of them into my mouth at once. The familiar sweetness made the insides of my cheeks tighten. Then, as I rolled them around on my tongue, I struck a pose with the ukulele. It felt a bit too small in my hands—probably because it was made for kids—but when I plucked the strings, it produced a sound like any other instrument.
Unfortunately, I had never even learned to play the piano. My only experience with music was playing the recorder in grade school. I didn’t know how to position my fingers on this thing, so to me, it may as well have been a toy.
“So, what can you play?” I asked.
“Play?” Yashiro cocked her head in confusion, crunching her candy.
“Songs! You know, a specific sequence of notes? Haven’t you heard any?”
“Hmmm...”
I switched on the TV. The current channel was broadcasting some news program, and when the background track began to play, I pointed at it—not that it was visible. “That’s a song. Music.”
“Oh ho.”
Evidently, the entire concept had flown straight past her ears until now. Did her kind not know about music at all? Maybe it’s because there’s no sound in space, I thought. Oddly enough, it was a convincing idea.
“And these things—instruments—exist to create that music,” I explained, raising the ukulele.
Yashiro’s galactic eyes followed it upward. “I did not know this information.”
“Not surprised, since you only care about food.”
“Ho ho ho! If I have the opportunity, I should like to learn more.”
“You’ll have a lot more fun with this thing once you can play at least one song...not that I would know.”
But a uke with no musician would be a sad uke indeed. Despite my cluelessness, I nevertheless plucked away, watching the sounds tumble limply to the floor. Compared to a professional performance, the notes were half-hearted, which suggested that this thing didn’t have long left to live. Still, so long as I maintained a rhythm, a unique feeling of comfort traveled down to my tailbone.
Before I could return the ukulele, however, its owner dozed off. Yashiro really slept a lot, didn’t she? Granted, I was in no position to judge, considering I’d been an S-tier napper as a kid. Evidently, this was yet another trait we had in common. Now that I had grown old enough to reflect on my youth from a detached distance, I had come to accept that she was a lot like the old me.
The candy in my mouth had melted away, leaving behind a hint of sweetness that I swallowed with my saliva—the way I savored my memories of the past. Except now my home was here, far from the family I knew. This was where we belonged: not just me, but my special someone, too.
I looked up at the clock on the wall, remembered the train schedule, and smiled. Then my fingers stirred atop the strings.
“Follow the flock of crows all the way home...”
What If...
What If...
AS I SWIFTLY WIPED the corners of the shelves, I muttered to Adachi: “Hypothetically, what if I...”
“...What if you what?” she replied as she cleaned the floor.
“Uh...good question.”
I should have thought of a scenario beforehand. What if I...was a vampire? A yokai? An alien? Nah, not an alien. The only one I know is harmless.
“What if I was a crazy monster, like...the kind of girl who could hurt people? Okay, maybe ‘girl’ is pushing it... Anyway, point is, what if I was a threat to humanity? What would you do, Adachi?”
“What would I...do?”
Apparently, she didn’t really get the question. To be fair, she didn’t consume a lot of fiction on a regular basis; whenever I tried to watch a movie or TV show with her, I’d catch her staring at me instead. And it was a pretty random question, so that was on me.
“Stay back! I’ve turned into a monster that...preys on the blood of humans every night!” I declared, wielding my duster for dramatic effect.
As she finished mopping the far corner of the room, she let out a small laugh. “You have?”
“You bet I have!”
She gave me a look that questioned why I sounded so proud of myself. “You’re kinda cute with both hands in the air like that.”
“Aww, thanks.” She seemed to like my evil monster. Feeling a bit bashful, I lowered my arms and went back to cleaning. “So, what would you do?”
“Well, uh...all you’d want is to drink blood, right?”
“Urgh, I bet it’s hard to swallow...” At my last health checkup, the mere sight of blood had made me dizzy. They’d only drawn a small amount, and yet the knowledge that it was mine gave me chills. Maybe it was an instinctual thing.
“Then I’d let you drink mine...I guess.”
“You would?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you attacking other people.”
If I had to guess, she wasn’t saying that out of a noble desire to protect them. She was notoriously allergic to anything involving other people.
“You wouldn’t try to defeat me, Adachi?”
“Why would I?”
“I mean...you’d just turn a blind eye to my crimes?”
Her gaze wavered as she gripped the mop. “I’d be your accomplice.”
“Typical you.”
“Well, if you ceased to exist, I wouldn’t feel like living,” she retorted, as if to suggest that she’d join me either way.
“C’mon, don’t talk like that.”
“Like what?”
From her perspective, she was just speaking her truth. Most days, she seemed so much better adjusted, and yet every now and then, she surprised me with her depths. I could wade out to my knees and my feet still wouldn’t touch the bottom.
“Whenever we’re apart, Shimamura, I feel dead inside.”
“It must really suck when we go to work, then.”
“It does,” she agreed calmly, and I could only hope that she wouldn’t actually die. “So, what’s this all about, anyway?”
“Oh, it just randomly came to mind. Okay, cleaning’s done!” With our list of chores finished before noon, the rest of the weekend was wide open, and my spirits were high. The breeze was so gentle, I had half a mind to jump up and down on the sofa. As I tilted my head up, my nose brushed against the soft sunlight. “Now what? Wanna go for a walk or something?”
“Sure.” Having put away her mop, she came and sat down beside me. I watched her for a moment, and then...
“Chomp!”
On a whim, I pounced on her and pretended to bite her neck. Caught off guard, she tumbled sideways, and I ended up on top of her. My chompers quivered in trepidation. Then our eyes met, and an indescribable silence descended between us.
I could feel the sun baking my back.
“...Chomp...”
Our afternoon walk would have to wait.
This Wasn’t One of My What-Ifs
This Wasn’t One of My What-Ifs
WHEN I THREW OFF the blankets that morning, I found that Adachi was already out of bed. Granted, this was fairly common, since I rarely ever woke up before she did. No, the problem was that something even rarer had happened at the same time.
A cat was staring at me.
It was gray with black stripes, and I certainly didn’t remember adopting it, so what was it doing in our house? It didn’t look like one of Yashiro’s imitations, either. It lay on the bed beside me, all stretched out like it wanted my attention. Then it pawed at the big, human-sized pillow, as if to suggest—in a very humanlike fashion—that it had been sleeping here. Could it be...?
When I squinted my eyes to examine it more closely, it shyly hid its face behind its front paws. With that, I was convinced:
“Adachi?”
When I offered her name, she seemed to understand, because she nodded eagerly and padded over. Adachi was now...a cat. A normal cat, by the looks of it. But on the inside, it was still her. Whether she had physically transformed or switched bodies, I wasn’t sure.
“I see.”
Part of me still suspected that this was a dream. I mean, surely it had to be, right?
“What if...Adachi turned into a cat...?”
For now, I pulled her into my arms to contemplate my next move. Naturally, as a cat, she was a lot lighter. But perhaps her new furry perspective had thrown her for a loop, because her eyes widened in surprise, and she flailed her hands and feet...er...paws. Precious. Cuddling her, I flopped back down onto the bed.
“I guess this kind of thing just happens sometimes.” Or does it? Between this and befriending an alien, it was hard to say which was more surreal. “Don’t worry. Stuff like this usually goes away after you wake up again.”
I had no basis for this claim, but I also had no clue why she’d turned into a cat in the first place, so it all evened out. Okay, no, it didn’t.
It was surprising, though; I’d always thought of Adachi as more of a dog.
“Did you go to bed wishing you were a cat?”
She shook her head vigorously, her tail swaying. It was so charming to achieve communication with a cat—I couldn’t help but smile.
“Now that I think about it... Actually, I probably shouldn’t say.”
She peered into my face with the same curiosity I had come to expect from her human form, and it made me giggle. Clearly, she wants to know... Guess I’ll tell her.
“I just realized you’re naked right now.”
For a moment she froze; then she started flailing like crazy, trying to escape. Oh no, you don’t! Securing my grasp on her, I waited for her to stop wriggling. Eventually, she gave up and rested her weight against me.
She felt like a cute little pet—not to suggest she wasn’t my pet before, of course. It was actually sorta nice...as long as it was temporary. I didn’t want it to last forever.
“If you were stuck like this, it’d be adorable, but kind of an issue,” I murmured as I stroked her back. I’d miss her face, and her voice, and...lots of other stuff, but most importantly... “I want you to live a long, full life.”
I often wished cats and dogs could have a longer lifespan. I didn’t know if it was right to want that—if they would even want that—but that was exactly why I prayed for it. When you cared about someone, you wanted them to stick around.
Grief could wait...ideally as long as possible, right? That way we could have as much fun as possible while it was still a long way off, right? After all, a heart without a protective shell of happiness would shatter instantly, right?
Almost in tandem, a dozen other things began to overflow—happy things, things I needed to remember, things I didn’t want to forget, things that hurt, all swirling together as they slid across my mind. The way I sucked in my breath, it almost sounded like I was coughing. What was happening to me? I didn’t understand, but the cat watching me did. Gently, she pressed a paw to my cheek, wiping my tears.
I choked out a breathy laugh. “Your claws hurt.”
My eyes were brimming with heat, so I closed them. The cat in my arms was warm, too...and that warmth helped me to remember all kinds of sadness and joy.
***
When I next awoke, Adachi was back to normal. She didn’t seem to remember turning into a cat, or maybe it never actually happened, because she didn’t bring it up.
Was it all just a dream after all? Scratching my head, I walked into the living room and found a blue-furred cat lying on the sofa.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
And yet, despite the fact that she could speak, she didn’t strike me as surreal at all.
“Hmmm... Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess.”
“Ho ho ho!”
Her thick, bushy tail swayed in amusement.
By Virtue of a Name
By Virtue of a Name
IT WAS SUNDAY NIGHT when I realized there was a backlog of ten books, purchased to be read on my morning commute, now relegated to interior décor. After my shower, I was drying my hair and making silly sounds into the electric fan when I suddenly caught sight of them out of the corner of my eye. Flicking the still-damp strands over my shoulder, I approached the shelf.
I couldn’t recall when I’d bought any of the books in this pile or why I’d chosen them. Picking them up, I dusted them off and combed through my memories of bookstores. Then I went into the living room and checked my commuter bag.
“Oh.”
Yet another book was already inside; I pressed down on the bent edges with my thumb. A bookmark was tucked about twenty pages deep, and I was mildly impressed that I’d cracked it open even once. That said, I didn’t remember anything about those twenty pages, so if I wanted to read it, I’d have to start over.
My morning commutes were typically spent zoning out in a haze of sleepiness, and my evening commutes were spent zoning out in a haze of fatigue. Perhaps it was a bad sign that my brain was unfocused for the majority of each day. Granted, I was the kind of person who could nod off on the train while standing upright, so it wasn’t an issue for me, but I wanted to clear out this backlog. No shame in books as décor, but out of respect for the books themselves, I felt I should at least read them before letting them gather dust.
After reorganizing the manga and picture books that Yashiro sometimes liked to read, I carried my pile to the electric fan. Each was written by an author I’d only vaguely heard of, and there was no thematic cohesion to the collection.
So...
“I think we should take turns reading books and discussing them,” I suggested to a post-shower Adachi, to whom I conceded the electric fan.
“What? I have to do it, too?”
“Judging from the state of the shelf, I won’t have the motivation to keep going if it’s just me,” I explained, introducing her to my backlog. “Take whichever one you like.”
“Ugh...” Combing her dripping hair out of her face, she adjusted her bath towel, then took a book. Frowning, she squinted at the cover. “I don’t read much, so I have no idea how to tell which ones are any good.”
“Relatable.” It wasn’t a pastime of mine, either, and yet I had ten of these. Eleven, if you counted the one from my bag. Odd.
If I had to guess, I must have recognized these books in the wild during the height of their popularity and decided to buy them to find out what all the fuss was about. None of them had a publisher or imprint in common. Adachi picked up a few to look at them, but she eventually concluded there was no point in thinking too hard. Ultimately, she settled on one written by Kikkawa Eiji, whose name struck me as strangely familiar.
“You didn’t have ‘free reading time’ in school or anything?” I asked.
“Oh...yeah, I think we had that in junior high. Plus, I was a library assistant.”
“Secret bookworm confirmed!”
“It wasn’t my choice! I was assigned to it,” she laughed. “Looking back, my junior high years—from my perspective now, I mean—they were really dark.” Setting her choice of book down, she began to dry her hair. “I don’t remember anything specific, but I’m pretty sure none of it was fun.”
“Sounds dark, all right.”
“Tell me about it,” she sighed, hanging her head.
I stared at her for a moment, then decided to help.
“Whoa!”
As I ruffled her hair with the towel, she leaned toward me without fighting it. Sensing that she wanted me to keep going, I ran the towel gently over each section.
“But now I feel really warm and toasty...so I must be happy,” she explained, neatly laying out each of her emotions like she was picking up spilled grains of sand.
As for me, I decided not to point out that it was probably just an aftereffect of the shower. After all, the look on her face was warm and toasty, too.
“Must be...f-fate or something, huh?”
“Tastes like destiny!” I joked, imitating Yashiro’s voice.
Still, maybe Adachi was right. If we hadn’t met, I’d never have seen this ceiling... I gazed up at it like I was watching fireworks.
Once her hair was dry, I raised a finger...followed by a second to create a peace sign. “We’ll have two weeks to read each book,” I announced, taking care not to overestimate myself. I had decided to read the one that was already in my commuter bag.
The author’s name was Kai Shouko; the marketing blurbs described her as “brilliant and innovative,” so apparently, she was some kind of genius. To be fair, I had enough trouble writing for work—I couldn’t imagine writing an entire novel. Maybe it did take a certain level of talent.
Well, hang on. I could probably do it if I put my mind to it, right?
“Hmm...”
The sky was blue. Yeah, that was more or less how it would start. Now I’d need characters... My brain felt like clay as I sculpted scenes and descriptions. But if it was coming this naturally to me, then maybe...? It felt like I was having a conversation with my potential—a breezy one, if the fan was any indication.
“Mmm...I do have a literary name, so maybe it’ll work out.”
“Shimamura?”
“Gah ha ha ha!”
And so, I preemptively laughed at my dreams for unfolding.
***
The sky was blue. I was gazing at it. Clouds were drifting by.
Today, I was headed into the far distance.
When my gaze lowered away from the clouds, the cherry blossom petals practically leaped into—
“Mmm...uhhh...”
I could idly dream up a dozen scenarios during my commute, but when it came to actually writing them down, my hand refused to budge. Evidently, my body hadn’t gotten the memo about the literary name thing. I was still so far away from introducing my main character... The book I read had inspired me to give writing a try, and this was my best effort? Really?
“Are you doodling, Shimamura-san?”
“I’m weaving a world with words.”
“Oh ho.”
Absently, I watched as the little alligator carried a bottle of blowing bubbles in the direction of the balcony...
“I think it’s break time.”
Putting my scribbling on pause, I decided I would help her out.
Mother 2
Mother 2
“HOW ABOUT IT? Wanna come with me?” I asked Adachi, who was sitting on the other side of my screen as I squinted at the work I’d brought home with me. She was staring at the TV but probably wasn’t really watching it, and in response, her head shook a fraction.
We had a three-day weekend starting tomorrow. I was planning to spend it at my parents’ house, and I thought I would invite Adachi along for a change. It would be more fun, I figured, compared to leaving her all alone for several days straight.
“Mmm...”
“I know you’re not exactly comfortable there.”
After all, it was relatively loud at my parents’ place—my mother in particular. That level of energy didn’t exist at the Adachi house, nor here at ours. But that was kind of why I wanted her to tag along.
It was an uncommon invitation, so she needed a moment to consider.
“Okay...just this once.” As usual, my dear, sweet Adachi-chan would grant me just about anything I wished for, even if she wasn’t enthused herself.
“It’ll make for a nice change of pace!”
“You sure about that?”
Her modest smile was so flawless, it was genuinely enough to purify my heart. “For now, I gotta finish my work.”
“I’d help you if I could.”
I thrust my fist in her direction, and after a beat, she struck a victorious pose back at me. It was motivating just to see her match my energy, so really, she was contributing a lot already.
Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard the twang of a ukulele.
***
And so, after a lot of yawning, I finished my work. The next day, around the time a glimpse of dusk had reached the sky, we arrived at my parents’ front door. They lived just far away from us that traveling was time-consuming, and to me, it felt like a metaphor for the gulf that had widened between me and them. Before I could ring the doorbell, however, I heard the door unlocking, and a small figure welcomed us inside.
“Welcome home!”
“Whoa. You’re always first, huh?” What the heck was she supposed to be this time? My first thought was a kangaroo. “Anyway, thanks. What animal are you?” I asked as I lifted her into the air.
She raised both hands in joy. “A wallaby, of course!”
“I see.”
As usual, her taste was a total mystery to me. Then she began to flail her stubby limbs. “It has been so long!”
“Uh, you just had dinner with us last night.”
“I suppose I did.”
Her bizarre perception of time hadn’t changed, either. Nor had the stretchiness of her cheeks. If ever I pinched them and they didn’t stretch, it was probably a sign that hell had frozen over. For now, the world was at peace.
“Hello to you, too, Adachi-san,” Yashiro greeted, her cheeks still stretched out.
“Most people say, ‘Good evening,’ at this hour.”
“Don’t mind her; she prefers hello. Anyway, run along now.”
“Yaaay!”
When I set her down, she toddled away and disappeared down the hall—probably into my sister’s room. As if on cue, my mother stepped out from the kitchen. She still looked just the same as I remembered from my childhood... Inexplicably, it flustered my heart and cheeks.
“Welcome home, my daughters.”
“Plural?”
“You’re part of the family, Adachi-chan.”
Adachi froze partway between friendly and formal. “Th...thank you for...having me?” she stammered, forcing the words out.
But my mother held firm. “Welcome home, daughter!”
“Huh? Oh...uh...hi, Mom...?”
“Sure, that works!” she shouted with a grin, despite having basically demanded it.
Uncomfortable, Adachi sneaked a glance at me as she forced a smile.
“Sorry, my mom’s kinda...you know.”
“Know what? I actually do know, but I’m asking anyway. Wait, I think I already did this one...” Between leaning in close, pulling back, and frowning in contemplation, my mother was all over the place. “Oh yeah, by the way—we have a special guest tonight!”
“Huh?”
She shot a pointed look at Adachi, and instantly I knew who it was. Adachi seemed to realize it, too, because she straightened up stiffly.
“Man, where is she? Hellooo? Why are you hiding? Get out here!”
“Quit shouting.”
The woman in question gently slid into view at the end of the hall, as if she’d peeled herself off the wall. It was Mrs. Adachi, reluctantly heeding my mother’s summons with a scowl on her face.
“Tonight’s special guest is...a second mama!”
“Second to who? Certainly not you.”
But my mother ignored her protests, grabbed her by the shoulders, and steered her in our direction.
“Don’t push me!” Mrs. Adachi snapped with a glare. At this, my mother switched to dragging her instead, at which point the other woman wordlessly kicked her in the leg. Nevertheless, my mother found her prank hilarious. Why were they acting like children?
“That’s weird. I only told you Adachi was coming a few hours ago.”
“I got an advance report from my secret spy last night.”
“Your what...? Ah. Her.” The wallaby.
Once Mrs. Adachi settled in beside my mother, she looked at her daughter with sharply narrowed eyes, and I could imagine why Adachi would grow up terrified of talking to her. Her mom probably wasn’t doing it on purpose, though—maybe it was the only way she knew how to look at people. Like a scolded child, Adachi shrank into herself, grasping the strap of her bag.
“Well, this isn’t our house, but...welcome home,” Mrs. Adachi said with a self-deprecating sigh. The awkwardness cut perfectly jagged edges into her lips and voice, or at least, that was the impression I got. Still, I suspected it was her best effort. Maybe she was actually even more antisocial than her daughter.
“Thanks,” Adachi said to the floor, gripping her bag strap even tighter.
Yes, good. As I watched the exchange, I found myself nodding along.
“You two gotta speak up, or my voice will drown you ouuut!”
“Don’t shout in my ear.”
“It’s not my fault our house is small!”
“Then don’t drag me here!”
From this exchange, I got an idea of what must have happened. Meanwhile, my mother lightly slapped Mrs. Adachi’s shoulder to annoy her—the same way she interacted with everyone. Her emotional instability was very stable indeed. And as I watched, I could feel a thought tugging at the back of my mind, and I couldn’t shake it, so even though my heart wasn’t in it at all, I tossed it out on a whim.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What?”
Our eyes met, and when she realized I was speaking to her, I watched her Adachi-like face don a harsh expression Adachi would never wear. This must be what it would be like if Adachi was bitchy to me... Yeah, this would sting, all right.
“How does it feel to have a second daughter?” my mother teased.
Mrs. Adachi started to say something, but instead, she let out a defeated sigh and turned to leave.
My mother raced after her and cut her off. “Don’t run, coward! Stand your ground!”
“When people tell you you’re annoying, how does it make you feel?”
“I’m just glad to know they’re doing well...”
“Oh, spare me the saintly act.”
With that, Mrs. Adachi really did walk back to us and stand her ground. My mother watched her go, stunned. “What the...?”
Then Mrs. Adachi looked at each of us in turn. “So. Which of you is the elder sister?” she asked gruffly.
Adachi and I shared a look, and at the exact same time, we each put a hand on the other’s back and pushed, as if to volunteer each other. As a result, we stepped forward together.
As she observed our answer, for the briefest of moments, Mrs. Adachi’s pursed lips curled. Seemingly satisfied, she turned and started to leave.
“Wait!” Adachi called out.
Her mother’s unreadable, piercing stare stabbed holes into her eyelids, and she nearly closed them, but...
“Thank you. For the plushie. The elephant,” she explained, shaping the outline of an elephant with her hands. She flung the words out so fast, I half-expected them to hit the wall.
“Of course,” Mrs. Adachi replied brusquely, averting her eyes. “Was it what you hoped for?”
The question was so vague, it seemed to encompass impenetrable depths. In response, Adachi nodded slightly, her hands still forming an elephant.
“I see...” Although she was the one who’d asked the question, Mrs. Adachi seemed to be at a loss for words, and her gaze wandered.
The two of them were so awkward together, it was driving me crazy just watching them. But just then, my mother laughed and set a hand on the other mother’s shoulder.
Mrs. Adachi’s lower lip curled in annoyance. “It pisses me off when you act all high and mighty, so could you please stop?”
“Okay, I’m low and weak.”
“It’s not a word game.”
Maybe my mother was trying to help, or maybe she was just screwing around. Bickering, the two of them headed down the hall; with trepidation in her legs, Adachi slowly staggered after them.
As for me, I stayed behind for a moment to put some distance between us, and then...
“......Ha ha!”
To be honest, I had considered for at least a moment that something like this might happen if I brought Adachi home with me. She believed her world only needed me, and I had chosen her in spite of that, but even then, I secretly felt this was a good thing for her.
I gazed down the hallway, remembering all the times I passed through it—sometimes walking, sometimes running. It had once served as the bridge between me and the outside, and even after I had moved away, it still held sentimental value.
As my old memories mingled with my new reality, foaming up my vision, I took a step forward.
Yeah...this is home, too.
The Makings of a Girlboss
The Makings of a Girlboss
WE WERE WALKING PAST a place I always wanted to visit, so I invited her to check it out with me. “How about something different this time?” And by different, I meant brand new.
“Sure...?” She looked up at the sign in confusion but nevertheless agreed.
Our spontaneous stroll-turned-date destination was a batting cage center. I had seen them on TV, but never actually been to one before, so I was pretty curious. Inside, the clerk directed us to buy tickets from the vending machine, which read 20 Balls: ¥300. May as well try, I figured, and in went my 300 yen. Still, it felt a bit strange to have to pay for a machine to shoot baseballs at me.
“Crap, we need enough for both of us.”
After buying another twenty balls for Adachi, we headed off to an empty...batter’s box, or cage, or whatever it’s called. There were four metal bats leaning against the wall, but other than their length, I couldn’t tell the difference between them. The longer the better, I figured, so I grabbed the biggest one and got into a batting stance. But as I stood there, bracing myself, the machine remained silent.
“Scared of me, huh?”
“You forgot to put your ticket in,” Coach Adachi chided me.
“Oops.” I inserted my ticket, got back into my stance, and...
“Good luck!”
“I’m not stopping ’til I have blisters!” I shouted, for no real reason, and held the bat the way I’d seen people do.
I hadn’t touched one of these since the last time we played softball in gym class. But the weekend morning news was always covering American baseball stars, and I had watched a lot of that, so I figured I’d be okay.
“As if!”
Carrying my self-rebuttal, the bat streaked forward to meet the approaching ball, and there came a satisfying clang...from behind me.
“Hmm.”
I hadn’t even grazed it. For that matter, I hadn’t seen the ball at all and wasn’t sure where I’d swung, so I had no idea if I’d been remotely close. But before I could reflect on where I’d gone wrong, the next baseball shot out, forcing me to react.
As a sporty girl who used to be on the basketball team, I wanted to look cool for my girlfriend; that was the motivation with which I swung my bat. Alas, I couldn’t hit a single one. Had they made these balls smaller or something? I was starting to realize just how impressive those high school teams were. I thought maybe my swing was too wide, so I tried holding the bat closer to me, but no luck. At this point, I was scared to look at Adachi.
Only the very last ball struck my bat with a plonk—not from swinging it, but from holding it horizontally at the right height. Fingers tingling, I watched the trajectory of the bouncing ball as my first time in a batter’s box came to an end. Though I had missed nearly all of them, surprisingly, I still felt exhausted.
“Whew...” Satisfied, I stepped out of the cage. “Did I look cool?”
Despite the absurdity of the question, Adachi answered with a stiff smile. “Yeah, uh...it was really cool how you stared down each ball. You really did your best.”
“Wow. You’ve got some talent, Adachi.”
“Talent for what?”
I handed her the bat. “I’m tagging you in.”
“Already?”
“I’ll watch and learn from you.”
“I’m a total beginner, too, you know.” Mildly perplexed, she stepped inside the batter’s box, resting my hand-me-down bat against her shoulder. How very picturesque.
“You look like a total girlboss right now.”
“Girlbosses play baseball?”
“Girlbosses can do anything. That’s what makes them girlbosses.”
“That’s a high bar to clear...”
Staring at the pitching machine, Adachi dropped into a low stance. Her practice swing cut through the air with a whuff. Her bat was at a more lethargic angle, and her arms looked stiff.
That’s weird. Normally she’s always better than me. Having lived with her, I could say it with certainty. I wasn’t bitter about it, though—if anything, I was proud to know I could rely on her. It was awesome. Hence, I couldn’t help but expect to hear the satisfying crack of a home run, but...well, perhaps baseball was outside her wheelhouse.
“Hmmm...”
Something felt off. She was standing in there and swinging just like me, but there was no momentum in her arms. Her stance was beautiful, though... Wait, just like me? That can’t be right, I thought, looking down at my palms.
“Hey, if you’re left-handed—shouldn’t you swing the other way?” I remarked as it occurred to me.
“Huh? Should I?” Her eyes widened.
“They call it ‘batting left,’ don’t they? I feel like I read it somewhere.”
Wasn’t that sort of thing based on your dominant hand? Probably, right? Or maybe it didn’t matter? Either way, it wasn’t clicking for her as-is, so I figured it couldn’t hurt for her to try it the other way around.
After swinging through her twenty balls, Adachi walked back. For now, we decided to step away and maybe buy another pair of tickets. And so, we wandered around inside the facility...until at last, we found it.
“There’s a left-handed cage down at the end.”
Luckily, it was empty, too. I steered Adachi inside by the shoulders. She looked at her bat, rolling it back and forth on her palm.
“Other way around... So, my left hand should be on top?”
“Yeah, and then you swing from the left.”
Heeding my coaching, she adjusted her grip, then tried another practice swing. “Oh, this might actually be easier.” Sure enough, it seemed to click, and the movement of her arms smoothed out. After several more swings, she put her ticket into the machine.
“Break a leg!”
“Uh...w-watch me go!”
After a slightly stiff victory pose, she began her second attempt. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it from the first twenty balls, because she swung her bat at (I assumed) the perfect time and scooped up the pitch with a plonk. Startled by her own success, she watched it fly with eyes as round as saucers. Then she looked at me and smiled faintly.
“I did it.”
“Wooooo!” I cheered. But while she was distracted, the next ball shot out and hit the cage with a pleasant clang.
“Uh-oh.” She hastily got back into stance and focused on the next ball. “You know, as long as I watch carefully and swing, this might actually...work,” she muttered.
Sure enough, with her eyes fixed on the pitching machine, she got another plonk. It didn’t fly far, but at least she was actually hitting them, unlike me. With enough practice, she could probably achieve some truly beautiful swings. All thanks to me and my brilliant advice, I thought to myself proudly.
Following a surreptitious search on my smartphone, I learned that the dominant hand didn’t actually factor into anything, but oh well.
“I’m honored to have guided you into girlbossery,” I declared with my arms folded.
But Adachi didn’t respond—too focused, probably. On another note, the way she stomped forward to swing her bat was... Wow. As I observed from a distance, taking in her straight face and perfectly pointed nose, it felt like I was watching an actual baseball star in the making. Meanwhile, plonk—she sent another ball flying.
Yep, she’s way more of a girlboss than me. This knowledge was as satisfying as a gentle sunbath. And as I thought about the rest of today’s plans, I imagined what sort of boss she’d bloom into next.
Silver Seaway
Silver Seaway
A FACEFUL OF SALTY AIR greeted me as I stared down and absently watched the boat cut through the sea. Now and then, the water would crash hard, spraying up onto the deck. The sunbaked ocean breeze was strong, and I was starting to get a little thirsty. Evidently, I had killed a lot of time up here.
On a leisure cruise with no particular destination, I had more time to zone out...to the point that I was liable to forget where I came from.
The longer our journey continued, the more I reflected upon, and the more I forgot. My knowledge, my memories...here there were no connections to bring them to mind. I had no souvenirs to speak of; not even my faithful plushies were by my side.
During our daily lives, we forgot so much—and when we remembered, so many feelings and other things came back to life. For that reason, I’d realized recently that physical items did indeed hold significance. Mementos left the door of memory ajar. But this wasn’t only true of objects; we could also be guided by actions or behaviors.
Memories were a wonderful thing. Though they faded with time, they never grew stagnant or decayed. Remembering and forgetting were both fantastic perks of being human. That was what it meant to live.
And now my life was over.
Whatever had happened to my seal and walrus? When I sensed their absence, it made me a little sad. But so long as this cruise continued, my sadness, too, would be forgotten before long. That was how distance worked: all sorts of things would vanish from sight.
As I traveled farther and farther from the place I knew, all that remained to me was the sea, and the steam whistle, and...
When I called her name, she turned. There stood Adachi, dazzling beneath the sun. I had lost a great many things, but I was reunited with at least one, and that was enough. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.
Then, at the end of the seaway, we arrived.
Adachi stood beside me, and together, we looked back down at the sea.
Absorbing the sunlight, the spray traced a silver arc through the air.
Flock of Crows and the Glowing Moon
Flock of Crows and the Glowing Moon
SUNDAYS WERE THE DAYSI took my baby sister to the little neighborhood park. After all, most days there wasn’t much more than dilapidated playground equipment, but on Sundays, something interesting would come along. My sister knew this, too, and so we practically skipped the whole way. Above us, rings of spring sunlight tickled our cheeks.
The park was built on a triangular slice of land, like a piece of shortcake, between a residential district and a busy street. My friends were already there—as was the granny we were looking for.
“Hey, old hag!”
“Ha ha ha! I’ll beat your ass,” said one of them, raising a fist with a smile. She lived in the neighborhood, and every Sunday, she would come to the park while out on a stroll. She wore her hair in a long ponytail that rested on her shoulder, and she always smiled softly—your typical friendly old lady.
But the friend she brought with her wasn’t normal at all. My sister always tried to grab her sparkles; letting go of my hand, she made a beeline straight to her.
“You’re just as weird as yesterday!”
I joined in, and all my friends crowded around.
“Get her!”
“Ho ho ho! I think not.”
Today she was dressed like a whale—a bipedal whale who deftly dodged away every time we leaped at her, which was funny. When she ran, she left an ethereal trail of sparkly dust behind her. Her name was Yasshi; she always wore animal onesies, and she carried a little ukulele on her back. Though she wasn’t much taller than us, we could tell she was different from the sky-blue hair that spilled out from the hood of her onesie.
The two made for an odd couple, and we couldn’t get enough of them.
“Oh dear...I just remembered I have something to take care of.”
As we were chasing her around, Yasshi suddenly picked up speed, quietly but rapidly melting into the background. In a blink, she had disappeared beyond the park and around the corner. Times like these, she acted exactly as weird as she looked. That said, she hadn’t asked for food yet, so I knew she’d be back soon enough.
I sat down next to the old lady. “Are you tired, granny?”
The shadows on her face were darker than usual, and her smile was a bit faded. “I stayed up all last night playing video games.”
“That’s a no-no!”
She grinned and looked up, chasing the shadows off her face. Her hair was like the color of the moon.
“Tell me another story, ol—ahem—granny.”
“A story, hmm?” After lightly punishing me with a noogie, her gaze grew distant. The stories she liked to tell were about her life with her beloved—someone who was no longer around. “I’ve been wondering for a while, but...are my stories really that good?”
“The lady you talk about is so weird and funny!”
Easily startled, prone to bouts of spontaneity, and above all, passionate.
“Weird and funny...? Yeah. Hee hee! Yes, she was...fairly strange.”
As she narrowed her eyes to thin slits, the old lady glanced at the empty space on the bench on her opposite side. She did this a lot, even though no one was ever there. But while I wasn’t sure what the warm smile on her face meant, it was still really pretty.
“As promised, I am here to do business.”
“Oh, you’re back.” The next thing I knew, Yasshi was sitting on a half-buried tire near the bench. I pulled out one of the treats I’d brought from home and offered it to her. “Here’s your payment.”
One egg bolo cookie in exchange for a performance. She accepted and munched it gleefully.
“Heh heh heh... Just one song, understood?” she cautioned me as she pulled out her worn-down ukulele. It wasn’t a lie, but doublespeak: she literally couldn’t play any other song. The only one she knew was the one she’d learned from this park—the nursery song about going home that played at 4:30 p.m.
And so, even though morning was too early to head home with the crows, Yasshi’s song began to play. Returning to the bench, I looked up at the old lady. She turned her head suddenly, as if to break off a conversation with someone, and smiled.
“We’ll leave it at that. Let’s see... What sort of story can I remember today...?”
As if to carry her recollection, the ukulele’s delicate notes gently softened.
Life Extolling Nostalgia: Naples Yellow
A Direct Line to Shimamura Hougetsu
A Direct Line to Shimamura Hougetsu
AS I WATCHED SHIMAMURA SLEEP, I felt something swell inside me, and my cheeks grew warm.
Whenever I requested to sleep over, she would generally let me. The other people in the house didn’t seem to mind, either...well, except for her little sister, but at the very least, she didn’t try to stop me. This environment had clearly nurtured the broad-minded tolerance at the root of Shimamura’s character.
Likewise, the household where I was raised would probably explain some things about me, too. But I digress.
Her face was mere inches away. No matter how close I crept to her, she didn’t stir—probably because she was, you know, asleep. But...wasn’t she a little too unguarded? Hadn’t she considered the possibility that I might try something? Maybe it was a sign that she trusted me...or that she knew for a fact that I didn’t have the guts.
The innocence. The defenselessness. My heart careened. Merely by observing her, I found myself hurtling in the polar opposite direction, with eyes too wide to possibly sleep. I was always like this whenever we were together—brimming with energy, but perhaps to the detriment of my health. My bustling pulse made my chest and neck muscles ache.
With my head frozen stiffly in place, I savored every moment of Shimamura’s sleep. She was beautiful, with hints of youth lingering here and there—like her droopy eyes, for instance. It was cute the way her lips and cheek were smushed against the pillow, not to mention the speed with which she drifted off once she was under the covers. But I’d probably find her adorable no matter what she did, so my opinion wouldn’t be worth much to anyone other than myself. Especially since I could feel myself tempted to praise the way she layered her blankets.
Her sweet, innocent smile was everything I ever wanted. Sure, she would smile softly for me whenever our eyes met, but there was something in it that was partly forced. Obviously, there were things she wanted to keep private, even from me...but obviously, I didn’t have to like it.
I didn’t hide anything from Shimamura—I couldn’t. Therefore, I didn’t want her to hide anything from me, either. I wanted her to show me all the stuff she kept concealed from other people. Ideally, she would let me see her innocence and defenselessness even when she was awake. To me, it would prove that the gulf between us was as narrow as humanly possible.
How close were we right now? Farther apart than a blanket’s width, surely. Even then, no matter where she was or what form she took, Shimamura always affected me deeply, as if she had a direct line to my heart. Maybe that was why it rocked my world—because I was getting it straight from the source.
Wriggling under my blanket, I crept a tiny bit closer. Only now did I regret turning her down in a panic when she’d half-jokingly invited me to share her bed. I wouldn’t cross that line...but I could straddle it.
Though I knew she wouldn’t respond in kind, I reached out to her hand—a shaky bridge across the night, unable to reach its destination, almost like I was reaching for the moon itself.
“Caught you.”
My entire forearm, from the elbow down, spasmed in surprise as Shimamura’s hand grasped mine. Before the realization could fully penetrate my brain, she grinned and opened her eyes—and my mind went blank.
Yeah, she’s got to be bad for my health.
Everybody Get In!
Everybody Get In!
“What if this time, I spent the night at your house?”
“...What?!”
Friday after school, Shimamura hit me with this bombshell right as we arrived at the station square. At the time, I was staring at the donut sign in the distance that marked our destination, my shoulders and legs still fuzzy, so it took me a moment to react.
“What do you mean, at my house?”
“Me, too,” Shimamura replied in English, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was failing that class. “You’re always staying over at my place, so I thought maybe it should be my turn for a change.”
“No, no! You don’t have to!” My elbows and wrists quivered.
“Did you know I’ve never actually seen your room? At least, I’m pretty sure.”
“Yeah, no, you haven’t...I’m pretty sure.”
Otherwise, she would have seen my stuff! At first this set off alarm bells in my head, but before I could lose it completely, I realized...I didn’t have that much to be embarrassed about in the first place.
For that reason, however, there really wouldn’t be much for her to do at my house. Unlike her place, mine didn’t have random things lying around to keep us occupied. When I was at home, I could kill time by thinking about Shimamura or calling her on the phone, but she would probably die of boredom there. I wanted to explain this to her, but though my eyes were darting around like crazy, my mouth wouldn’t budge at all.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, right? Do you have work?”
“No... Wait, actually, I might.” I quickly realized that if I said no, I’d have no reason to refuse, but it was too late.
“Then it works out perfectly!”
“...Are you serious about this?”
“Well, it’ll be a nice change.” Twirling her hair around her index finger, she averted her gaze slightly.
“You know my mom will be there, right?”
“That’s no problem. We’re buddies.”
“Wh... Liar!”
“Ha ha ha ha!”
Absently, I admired how cute Shimamura looked with her mouth wide open—but this wasn’t the time for that.
***
Back in my bedroom, I gently set my school bag next to my bed. How was I already this nervous? With my hands freed, I put them on my hips and stared around the room. Most days, nothing ever stood out to me about it, but now everything seemed to leap out at me from the corners of my vision.
“Shimamura...in my room...”
Well, she didn’t have to come into my bedroom specifically, but she would be in my house. Was there anything I needed to hide beforehand? I glanced around and around until I made myself dizzy.
Stiffly, I crab-walked sideways to examine my shelf. There was the empty soft drink can I had on display like a holy artifact; what would she think when she saw it? I didn’t expect her to understand it, but I was a little concerned that she might mistake me for a weirdo. As for the boomerang...maybe she would see me as someone who treasured the gifts I was given.
Then there were the Shimamura Notes I’d written during summer break one year. At first, I hid them between two books on my bookshelf, but I realized that a notebook would stick out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t risk her reading it, so I took it back out...then started flipping through. I could feel my past self’s desperation from the indent my pen had left on the paper—hell, I could still feel the ardor in my hands. Walking to my desk, I opened a drawer I normally never used, then slid the notebook all the way to the back. Too bad it didn’t have a lock.
I wandered around the room some more but couldn’t find anything else to do. With no way to soothe my anxiety, I walked back to my bed, kneeled down, and smoothed the corner of the sheets. Considering that I cleaned my room on a regular basis, what else did I need to do today?
Somehow, I doubted that Shimamura ever did anything to prepare for my visits. Or maybe she tidied up, too, but in a more subtle way...? Wishful thinking on my part, perhaps. Even though I had asked her a handful of times in the past, I still couldn’t help but wonder how often she thought about me.
Personally, I thought about her all the time, to the point that other people rarely ever entered the picture. This room was a Shimamura-only zone. And now the girl in question was going to set foot inside... The thought made my cheeks itch. Was she really going to come to my house? And spend the night here?
I looked up at the ceiling, and then I remembered: Oh crap, I have to tell Mom. For a moment, I closed my eyes and listened. Amid the almost painful silence, I could hear faint sounds coming from downstairs. Yes, she was home.
Rising to my feet from the floor, I could practically hear the sound of ripping Velcro as I peeled myself away. Incredible how my state of mind could create sensations that weren’t really there. Maybe that was the truth behind ghosts, too.
As I walked downstairs, the other footsteps grew louder, and so I followed them to their source. There in the dim hallway, my mother was standing with her back turned.
“Hey, Mom?” I called.
Her upper body flinched, and she froze in place. “What is it?”
When she turned, I saw in her the same awkwardness I knew so well. We stood at an uncomfortable distance apart; when I spoke, it was with all the strength of a mosquito.
“Shimamura said she wants to spend the night tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “The gremlin’s girl?”
“The what?”
“Never mind. She’s staying here? What for?”
I didn’t know the answer to that myself. “She just wants to for some reason.”
“I see.” The conversation felt as natural as two continents crashing together, and the hallway felt like a desert. “If you’d prefer I wasn’t around, I can go elsewhere.”
This was probably my mother’s best attempt at showing consideration: to remove herself from the equation.
“No...you don’t have to.” The words refused to change shape for my mother the way they would for my boss at work, or the classmates I barely spoke to, or Shimamura.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Scowling, she put a hand on her hip. “Well, I don’t have much hospitality to offer her, but if you want to invite her, go ahead.”
She was trying to hide her poor social skills, but she didn’t know how hard to push the other person, and as a result, it turned into a hard shove. This was a struggle I was very familiar with. Nevertheless, she concluded:
“This is your home, after all.”
With that, she turned and began to walk away. I started to say something, but instead of giving chase, I looked at the wall. This was my hallway...in my home. Normally, I would never stop to think about this wall, but for once, I pressed a hand to it.
I reached a hand out limply in my retreating mother’s direction, my fingers half-bent, half-extended. The sight of it was like a metaphor for our entire relationship.
***
And so, the big day rolled around...a day later.
With it came the Shimamuras. Plural.
“Why are you people like this?”
“Hougetsu was worried about making you uncomfortable, so I thought we’d help.”
But Mrs. Shimamura’s bright smile only darkened my mother’s face. “You didn’t consider how you would make me feel?”
“Toasty warm!”
“Well, I’m melting.”
My mother made a shooing gesture as Mrs. Shimamura circled her, then turned away with a dramatic sigh. Unfortunately, everywhere she turned, Mrs. Shimamura would move in that direction, until at last, my mother lashed out by silently kicking the woman in the shin. This I hadn’t been expecting.
“You were planning to leave the house once my daughter arrived, weren’t you?”
“...Yes, and? Is there a problem with that?”
“You bet your sweet bippy!”
“Well, I don’t want you inside my house.”
The shin kick seemed to have only energized Mrs. Shimamura all the more.
Yes, for some reason, Shimamura’s entire family was here to spend the night at our house. Naturally, my mother wasn’t the only one reeling. Her little sister was here, and her dad, and her red panda—wait, what? When we made eye contact, the girl waved at me with a cheerful grin; stiffly, I gave her a small wave in return.
“I wasn’t expecting all these people. What am I supposed to make for dinner?”
“As luck would have it, I’ve got enough food for everyone right here in this bag!”
“I see.”
“All of it harvested by hand! From rivers and mountains, you see!”
“I’ve never been to Rivers and Mountains, but it sounds like a lovely supermarket. Also, I don’t have enough beds for everyone.”
“Coincidentally, we brought sleeping bags, too. We Shimamuras are a nomadic tribe, you see!”
“...Ah, yes. I see them on your shoulders there.”
“You see? You see!”
“You piss me off.”
“Heh heh!”
To avoid wasting another second of her life, my mother averted her gaze and began to openly ignore her.
“Mom said we were going somewhere fun,” Shimamura’s sister grumbled, staring up at me. I tried to respond with a smile, but my left cheek twisted into knots. No, this probably wasn’t going to be very fun.
“I didn’t want to intrude, myself, but our house gets pretty lonely when it’s empty,” Mr. Shimamura explained with a nervous laugh. The hint of sheepishness in his smile was nearly identical to his daughter’s, as was his overall vibe. That sort of laid-back...ditziness.
As Mrs. Shimamura poked my mother on the shoulder, she turned and grabbed the woman’s head. “It’s fine. I don’t care anymore,” she sighed.
“I am unclear on the particulars, but I was carried here, and so I must intrude,” the blue-haired panda volunteered, bouncing up and down with both hands in the air.
“Hah. Never had a red panda in the house before,” my mother scoffed with a straight face. Mrs. Shimamura picked up the panda and put her on her shoulders; in response, the girl smiled contentedly, as if she was back where she belonged.
And so, a medley of voices filled our cramped hallway for what was probably the first time in history.
“When I told them I was staying here, one thing sorta led to another,” Shimamura explained apologetically, hand in hand with her younger sister.
“And it led to this? Wow.”
I found it all overwhelming—not just the crowd, but being around people in general. Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t even have the capacity to lament the fact that it wouldn’t be just the two of us tonight. It felt like someone had just dumped a gallon of glue over my head. Yeah...Shimamura’s family was really weird.
She looked away for a moment, then muttered, “It’s my mom.” Stepping forward, she whispered in my ear: “She said it’s too soon for two underage kids to spend the night without supervision.”
I felt a quiet impact land squarely in the center of my throat. When I responded with a questioning look, Shimamura grinned bashfully and took her shoes off.
“I think she knows.”
Shaking her head like she was trying to knock something loose, she hurried down the hallway, guiding her sister by the hand. Likewise, the three parents and the red panda headed deeper into the house, trading remarks back and forth. At last, I was the only one left standing in the entryway. But there was no cool breeze here—only the burning warmth of my cheeks.
She knows...
As the realization slowly sank in, the heat trickled all the way to the soles of my feet, making me jump in alarm.
A Drop of Summer
A Drop of Summer
I WAS IN NO POSITION TO SAY THIS, being an employee, but the place was busier than you might think, which explained how it had survived all these years. Chinese food appealed to a broad demographic—families with children, sweaty laborers, young students—and during summer vacation, the dining area was filled with a diverse roster of faces well before noon.
The restaurant wasn’t that large, but when it got busy, my pace quickened accordingly. After working here for this long, I had a subconscious grasp of when to shift into high gear, so there was no need to panic. In fact, I would sometimes gaze at the gaudy red walls across the room and lose myself in thought.
It was during my last summer break of high school, having yet to find a reason to quit, that I finally started to look around and ask myself how much longer I would stay. By this point, surely, most third-years no longer had time for anything but studying for college entrance exams. Personally, I hadn’t entirely decided whether I’d even apply for college... Well, to be totally honest, I hadn’t given it much thought at all.
I only ever thought about Shimamura, and right now, even in the middle of my workday, I was too focused on being with her to consider much else. Still, even if I had no interest in other things, I needed to chart the course ahead in order to end up by her side.
Was she going to apply for college? If so, then maybe we could go to the same one? Was that a possibility? I would need to consult with my mother... My mother... Though the sky outside was clear, I could feel my vision clouding. Perhaps that was why I’d turned out so feeble—because I avoided that sort of thing.
Meanwhile, my body operated on autopilot, taking me along for the ride. Once the number of customers began to dwindle, I stood against the wall and awaited my next task.
Just then, the door opened, causing a small bell to jingle.
“Wel—”
Well, well, well—?!
“Oh!”
Dabbing at her sweaty neck, in walked the very girl who was constantly on my mind. Shimamura! Although we hadn’t made any plans of the sort, here she was by herself.
“’Elcome,” the manager greeted her.
She bowed her head in reply, then glanced around until she spotted me. When our eyes met, her expression softened—no, her whole vibe softened. Tray in hand, I hurried over to her.
“Hey,” she grinned. “Keeping busy over the break, huh? Proud of you.”
“Wh-why...?”
Sensing my unspoken question, she answered before I could finish: “I was bored, so I thought I’d come have lunch, that’s all.”
“Lunch? Here?”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
Grinning, she gazed at me; when I moved on reflex to tug my cheongsam’s slit down, she circled around me to get a better look. After a moment, my manager shouted, “No goofing off!” from across the room. Remembering that I was indeed on the clock, I cleared my throat and regained my composure.
“...Have a seat wherever you’d like.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Though I didn’t understand why she had come—or, for that matter, why she was smirking like that—I couldn’t help but find her adorable. She rarely ever showed up here, so I was completely caught off guard. Granted, just because we hadn’t planned it didn’t mean I had any reason to complain about it, and yet...and yet... As I watched her walk away, she suddenly whirled around, startling me.
“Wh-what?”
“I felt your eyes on me.”
She shot me an inquiring look, which I returned in full force.
Once she was seated, she opened our ancient menu. “I thought this place would be good for lunch, but the portions here are pretty big, huh?”
I nodded. In particular, the karaage was served at a quantity that suggested this place didn’t stop to consider profit margins at all.
“I’d hate to waste food, so...I think I’ll just get the fried rice.”
“Certainly,” I answered.
For some reason, this made her shoulders shake with laughter. “Such cordial customer service in here.”
“I mean...c-cool?”
“Don’t you need to read my order back to me?”
“Nope, I got it!”
I was trying to show off (and probably failing), but nonetheless, I took the order to the kitchen, feeling more restless than I ever did when we were slammed. If my feet were touching the floor, I sure couldn’t feel it. Before I could recover, however, her fried rice came out of the kitchen, the smell of fried onions and scrambled eggs enhancing the bright colors through the steam. Holding it in one hand while dressed in a cheongsam, I really felt like I was working at a Chinese restaurant. Probably because I was.
“You’re popular, huh?” Shimamura teased as I delivered her meal. As I set down her spoon, I frowned in confusion, and she continued, “The other customers keep stealing glances at you.”
“What? They do?”
“You haven’t noticed?”
“No...I wasn’t paying attention.” I was too busy thinking about Shimamura, as per usual, which meant I didn’t have bandwidth to sense other people nearby. Not that I cared.
“It’s not every day they get to see a pretty girl in a China dress.”
“Uh...well, enjoy your meal.”
With the spotlight on my work uniform, my bashfulness spiked. Tugging my dress down, I retreated to my spot against the wall; Shimamura watched me go with a grin.
“Friend of yours?” my manager asked, lumbering over to me.
Friend? No. I looked up.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
Part of me regretted saying it, but then again, there was no real reason to hide it.
“Hmmm?” For a moment, my manager looked from me to Shimamura and back. “Your woman?”
Not a fan of that phrasing. “My girlfriend,” I insisted.
“Hmmm....” She squinted across the room at the girl in question.
“Um...please don’t stare at her like that...”
Fortunately, Shimamura was too busy picking through her fried rice. What was she looking for in there? Either way, I was glad she hadn’t noticed. Was it fun, putting the tiny bits of green onion on her spoon? Well...as long as she’s happy, I guess.
“What a catch.”
Hearing someone else compliment Shimamura was conflicting; I both liked and didn’t like it. But the latter won out slightly, if only because I hated the thought of anyone else ogling her.
“You are sucker for pretty face.”
Laughing flippantly, my manager lumbered away. But it was the first time I’d ever been told such a thing, and on reflex, I stroked my chin. “Am I...?”
It was hard to say, since I’d never paid attention to any face but Shimamura’s. It went without saying that I thought she was beautiful—without question the most beautiful person on Earth. But even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because her beauty was the only kind that mattered to me.
Now that I thought about it, I had never registered anything outside of Shimamura as pretty. In all likelihood, she was my entire frame of reference—and that was enough. That said, if my most selfish quality was my refusal of anyone but her, then yes, perhaps I was indeed a sucker for exactly one pretty face.
After Shimamura finished her fried rice, she didn’t seem to want anything else, because she got up and headed to the register.
“I’ll be back sometime.”
“Seriously...?”
“Nope. Just messing with you!” She laughed like she had anticipated my reaction. “Today, I just wanted to...you know.”
“To what?” Did she come here for a reason after all?
“To see you for a bit,” she blurted out after a moment, like she was making an excuse. Then she walked outside, leaped onto her bicycle, and sped off without looking back. It was the sort of exit I used to make whenever I was panicked, but coming from her, it was highly unusual.
To see you. To see you. I repeated the words to myself over and over...then gasped. Could it be? I was sure it wasn’t possible, but...could she have...come to see me? Was it conceivable that Shimamura, of all people, missed me? Me?
On the one hand, I was afraid I was full of myself, but on the other hand, a flutter had suddenly blossomed in my feet. Was this how it felt to walk on cloud nine? A hot dawn breeze blew across my skin, as if the sun was rising over my cheeks. Part of me wanted to find out right away, but another part of me wanted to bask in this half-formed ecstasy a little longer. My feelings toddled around in aimless circles as tears of joy sprang to my eyes.
I guess summer break’s not so bad after all.
She Who Ventures but Never Quite Gains
She Who Ventures but Never Quite Gains
“CAN I ASK AN ANNOYING girlfriend question?”
It happened after school, when we were prowling around together before parting ways. And by prowling around, I mean we were really just doing laps in front of the school gates, my bike wheels creaking intermittently. Our houses were in opposite directions, so once it came time to head home, we’d have to say goodbye then and there; to delay that moment, we walked in circles. So what was the question?
“Uh...b-bring it on.”
Generally speaking...well, to be honest, I didn’t really think of it in those terms, but if I had to choose, I would say I was the one who usually asked the “annoying” questions. Coming from Shimamura, it made me curious...and nervous. The creak of the tires swirled in my ears.
As we toddled along, Shimamura bent down slightly to peer into my eyes. “How much do you love me?”
“...Hggghh?!”
My shoulders leaped up around my ears, changing the bike’s tempo. I could vaguely recall asking her the same question in the past; she seemed to remember, too, judging from the giant smirk on her face. Was this her revenge? But I didn’t know how to quantify it. I loved her—no more, no less, nothing else, just Shimamura.
Wait...is she insinuating that I’m an annoying girlfriend? Really? I’m, like, ninety percent sure I’m not, though...
“I love you the most in the whole world,” I confessed, eyes averted, though I had expressed it in a thousand different ways by this point.
“Hmmm.”
“What? Is that not enough?” I pointed up at the sky, wondering if I should have said to the moon and back, but she waved it away dismissively.
“I want to know the amount, not the rank.”
“Uh...huh... Huh?”
It was a rather poetic clarification. Upon further reflection, yes, most in the world was more or less the same as number one, which would make it a rank...or should I say standing? And she asked how much, so...quantity.
I don’t know—a lot? As we walked in circles around the block, I searched for the right words. “Hmmm...”
“Do your best!” Shimamura cheered offhandedly.
Times like these, I cursed myself for being so inarticulate. Now that I understood how it felt to be on the receiving end, I vowed not to ask her any more of these annoying questions—although I had a feeling I would forget by tomorrow.
In terms of quantity, entirety would fit. She was everything my world was made of; she consumed my entirety. But how could I express it elegantly? Could I say it just like that? Would it count?
What did quantity mean, anyway? Then again, in all likelihood, Shimamura didn’t actually want an answer. If anything, I got the feeling what she enjoyed was making me contemplate these things. So I looked at her, gazed at her, and let it spill like tears from my lower lip.
“You’re my yesterday, my today, and my tomorrow.”
This was the love that bloomed candidly in my heart. Now that it was complete, nothing else could fill that void. Even if I tried to force something else in, it would only tear the hole wider.
Upon hearing my answer, Shimamura’s first reaction was to peer into my eyes. Then her head tilted, as if blown by a stiff breeze. “Is that so?” Looking up at the sky, she started laughing, and I wasn’t sure she was satisfied.
“Y-yeah...?”
“Sounds like a marketing slogan.”
“It...it does?” If so, then perhaps those words could caption our time together.
“If I’m responsible for your future, then I guess I’ve hit the big leagues, huh?”
“Oh, uh, w-well, it’s not like it’s all on you. We can carry it together,” I clarified quickly, trying to lighten my chronically excessive intensity.
Grinning at my excuse, she hopped forward, landing on one foot. Then she spun around like a ballerina. “Next time you ask me, I think I’ll steal your answer.”
“Huh...?”
“Time to go!”
Out of nowhere, she took off at a fast clip. Stunned, I nearly let her leave—that is, until my brain caught up.
If she used my answer...then that would mean I was her yesterday, her today, and her tomorrow, too...
A fever erupted on my cheeks and the soles of my feet, goading me forward.
“Hhh...hey! Shimamura!”
“Go home, Adachi! Don’t follow me!”
With a cackle, she started running, so I gave chase at full speed, dragging my bike along with me. The distance to my house grew while the path to Shimamura shrank—a metaphor, perhaps, for the future ahead of me.
Interview with the In-Law
Interview with the In-Law
AT FIRST, I DIDN’T REALIZE I was the one being spoken to. I did hear the “Heeey,” but since it wasn’t Shimamura’s voice, I shrugged it off and kept pedaling. As usual, my mind was filled with thoughts of what she would get up to once she got home, and considering how distracted I was, it was a slight miracle that I never got into any accid—
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
I whipped my head over my shoulder—not because I thought it was directed at me, but purely out of surprise. As for the source of the scream, she beamed brightly at my reaction, delighted that her ship had reached the shore at last. It was Shimamura’s mother, running at full speed to catch up to my bicycle. She swung her arms so powerfully, it almost looked like her shoulders had doubled in width.
Mildly terrified, I hit the brakes, and she shot straight past me. Then, after a moment, she turned and jogged lightly back to where I’d stopped. If she was remotely out of breath, she didn’t show it... Not to be rude, but she seemed to have a lot more energy than her daughter.
“Way to ignore me when I’m calling you! You’re just like your mama. I like it!”
“No, I just didn’t realize it was directed at me.” Knowing my mother, however, she probably did ignore Mrs. Shimamura on purpose.
“Hiiii!” For some reason, she raised her hand in the silent fox gesture and pointed it in my direction—how was I supposed to respond to that?
“Uh...hi,” I replied, for lack of anything better to say.
Then she raised a second fox, and when she saw the confusion on my face, she chuckled in satisfaction. Her short hair looked to be damp, exuding a hint of chlorine. “I’m on my way home from the gym. Your mother left a lot faster than I did.”
“I see.”
Until recently, I didn’t know my mother even went to the gym; unlike Shimamura’s mother, she didn’t bring the pool home with her. Maybe she packed a hair dryer whenever she went. That would explain why the house never really felt like she lived in it.
But I digress. So, why did Mrs. Shimamura come running after me, exactly?
“Uh...”
“You look well, Adachi-chan!”
“Y-yeah.”
“I’m doing very well myself, as a matter of fact.”
I noticed. “Um...”
“Yeees?”
It was a near-perfect replication of the way Shimamura always prompted me, and oddly enough...it made me a little emotional.
“I was just...wondering if, um...you needed something.”
“Why do people always ask me that? Are we only allowed to talk to each other if we need something?” she asked, her eyes wide with sincere curiosity. But considering that I was her daughter’s classmate at school, generally, one would expect that she would have no other reason to talk to me...right?
“I think...maybe...most people would say yes.”
“Would they? Personally, I like to just shoot the breeze. Like right now,” she said with a grin.
Upon further reflection, I realized that I, too, often called or visited Shimamura for no particular reason. My heart was a mosaic of a dozen petty desires—to have fun, to kill time—but none of them were pointless. Perhaps it was the decision to act on them that truly mattered.
“So, headed home from school? Not gonna hang out with Hougetsu today?”
At first, my brain didn’t link the name to Shimamura. After all, she was normally just...Shimamura. “Oh, um...I have to go to work today.”
“Work, hm? Wait, that’s right—you work at the Chinese place, don’t you?”
“Yes...”
“Ha ha ha ha ha! You totally hate having to talk to me!”
And yet, inexplicably, she sounded genuinely delighted at the thought.
“I don’t hate it. It’s just...” Awkward. Confusing. “Hard.”
“Wish I could relate, but I’ve never had a hard time talking to anyone.”
Clearly, this woman was superhuman.
“I said the same thing to you-know-who and she was like ‘Your babbling does not count as talking!’ Gah hah hah!” She laughed as though this was sidesplittingly funny.
Meanwhile, it took me a second to understand who she meant. “My mom?”
“Yep! She really hates my guts.”
Perhaps Mrs. Shimamura and I had entirely separate ideas of fun, because I didn’t get why she was smiling. If Shimamura hated me, I would...die? Yes, worst-case scenario, I would die—right after clinging to her and making a pathetic fool of myself. Better try to avoid that. But I wasn’t Shimamura, and it was difficult to stay in her good graces with such a poor grasp of her thought process. I could spend every waking moment with her and still struggle.
“Your house is that way, right?”
“Yes...”
“Okay.”
Nodding, Mrs. Shimamura set off in the same direction. She wasn’t planning to walk me there, was she? Surely not, I thought to myself, forcing a polite smile onto my face. Meanwhile, she scrutinized me curiously, as though she’d spotted a cicada on a tree trunk. Though she hadn’t laid a hand on me, I nearly recoiled on reflex.
“I never imagined Hougetsu would get a girlfriend,” she remarked—so offhandedly that I stared straight ahead for a moment. Then, a beat later, the blood rushed to my face.
What?
Did she just say girlfriend like it was nothing? I glanced over to gauge her reaction. Surely, Shimamura wouldn’t casually tell her family about our relationship, would she?
“Ah, so I’m right. Thanks for confirming it with that look on your face.”
I reached up and nervously touched my cheek. When I realized I was blushing all the way to my ears, I knew at once that my cover was blown. Come to think of it, the night her whole family came over to spend the night at my house, Shimamura had warned me that her mother might have figured it out—and evidently, she had.
Granted, we had done nothing wrong, so there was no reason to hide it, but...it was Shimamura’s mom, and she was so smug about it that I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.
“So, you gonna spill the hot deets?”
“N-no.” After all, Shimamura would probably get mad at me for blabbing.
She clucked her tongue like a little kid. “Well, can you at least tell me what you like about her?” she pressed, holding up one finger to emphasize the single question. “It’s the part I’m most curious about, y’know. Obviously, I live with her, so I have a decent grasp of her good and bad points, but I figure your opinion might be completely different. That’s what I’m asking.”
Suddenly, I had slid right into a serious conversation, as if rolled onto the beach by a strong ocean wave. Mrs. Shimamura was an odd woman, and it was difficult to gauge how deeply she was thinking about all this. But since she honestly wanted to know, I gave it some thought myself as I pushed my bike along.
“First, I want to establish that everything about her is good.”
“Whoa. That’s more hardcore than I thought.”
“I’m, uh, kinda bad with words...inarticulate, I guess...but Shimamura puts up with me anyway. She listens to what I say, and...seems to have fun.”
I could think of a million other good points—no matter what side of her I tried to describe, it would only ever be complimentary—but it was that particular sparkle that had drawn my gaze first. I could describe it as kindness but wasn’t sure that I should; all I knew for certain was that she always chose to be with me, and it would be remiss of me to ignore her...goodwill, so to speak. Thus far I had yet to lose sight of it, as far as I was aware.
“I see. Yeah, she’s always been the caring type,” Mrs. Shimamura replied, nodding happily. Evidently, we were in agreement on that point. Really, it was obvious from how attached her sister was to her.
“Also, she’s really pretty...and cute.” Whenever I thought about how cute she was, my love for her overflowed, engulfing every inch of my body like a soft, warm hug.
“Hmmm... She hasn’t been very cute to me lately. If anything, she’s a brat,” Mrs. Shimamura complained. “But if you want your relationship to succeed, it’s important to be able to see the good in them at a glance.”
She changed tack so quickly, I didn’t know how to react. This probably explained why my mother struggled to deal with her, too.
“It’s good to be able to say, ‘I love that, and that, and that!’”
“You love the utility pole...?” And the sky? And that roof? Her selection made no sense to me.
“The longer you’re together, the more likely you’ll find things about Hougetsu that don’t gel with you, or that you don’t lik—”
“No, I won’t.”
The words left my lips faster than I could think. Mrs. Shimamura’s eyes widened at the instant answer, her gaze weighing on me.
“I...don’t think that will happen,” I rephrased, adopting a softer tone, but ultimately held my ground.
For the most part, I understood the absurdity of what I was saying, but I still felt it was true. There was no aspect of Shimamura I didn’t like, even when she teased me, or delicately hid her true feelings behind her back. I loved all of it—I loved all of her. In the presence of her multifaceted feelings, I felt my steely heart soften to a more human tenderness.
“Oh ho... Well, maybe you can do what I can’t.” Grinning, Mrs. Shimamura reached over and jingled my bike bell, then prodded at the bookbag in my basket, as if she had nothing better to do with her hands. “Y’know, it was pretty obvious what was going on from the way Hougetsu suddenly started to put effort into her appearance whenever she went out on the weekends.”
“What?”
“She sure loves you!”
With a big smile and even bigger momentum, she clapped me hard on the back, and as I felt the heat spread across my shoulder, I realized I had now learned one of Shimamura’s secrets.
“Hah...heh...”
The sound of spinning tires reverberated in my head, and the most I could do was smooth it over with a limp laugh. Incidentally, we had reached my house—Shimamura’s mom really did walk me the whole way.
“Hyah!”
Upon pressing the doorbell, she gallantly hid from the camera’s view, leaving me standing alone. At first, I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but I soon found out: When my mother dubiously opened the door, she leaped out to spook her, almost like—no, exactly like a mischievous child. My mother’s narrowed gaze communicated so much: anger, annoyance, confusion, and probably a dozen more nebulous emotions.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, if I were onscreen, you wouldn’t come out!”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
My mother fixed me with a questioning look, but I didn’t have an answer for her. “She kinda just...followed me.”
“And so, upon getting what she wanted, she was perfectly content to go home. Toodle-oo!”
Ignoring our discomfort, Mrs. Shimamura sped away from us. Her body was surely the same shape as any other human’s, yet her motions were downright cartoonish. And so, I was left standing there with my mother.
“Welcome home,” she muttered, her gaze slightly averted.
“...Thanks.”
It was quite possibly the first time in ages that my mother had welcomed me in any capacity.
Prophetic to Be Right, Fated to Be Wrong
Prophetic to Be Right, Fated to Be Wrong
I DEFINITELY HEARD IT, but I was sure that this time it couldn’t possibly be directed at me, so I kept walking. Granted, there was no evidence to support this belief, other than the absurdity of such a thing happening to me two days running. Nevertheless, I refused to look back.
“HEEEEEEEEEY, HEY, HEEEEYYYY!”
Overcome by déjà vu—or in this case, déjà entendu?—I finally turned my head. As it turned out, the voice only sounded loud due to its owner standing directly behind me. Our eyes met at point-blank range.
“Nnhhck!”
Recoiling backward until my neck ached, I froze in place. Meanwhile, my heart raced like it was planning to leave the rest of my body behind.
“Your reactions are always so lively. It amuses me greatly.”
It was that one fortune teller—and by “that one,” I mean the only one I knew of. Her style of dress was somewhat out of place here in the countryside, her eyes twinkling at me from under a thin veil.
“Long time no see.”
Inexplicably, she held up her hand in a silent fox gesture. Now I was starting to suspect the two were in cahoots with each other. “Is this a new trend or something?”
“I wouldn’t know. Does anyone else do this?”
“At least one, and very recently.”
“Fascinating. But let us set that aside for now.”
She beckoned me over. As usual, she had set out a table and chairs, and if I had to guess, she hadn’t asked permission this time, either. After all, this was the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant where I worked, and while it technically wasn’t open yet, her audacity was mildly appalling.
Would she really draw in any customers here? ...Was I about to be her customer? I couldn’t bring myself to refuse her outright, so I decided to try a lie: “I only have, uh, a hundred yen on me today.”
“That’s plenty.”
“...It is?”
“One hundred yen, please.”
With a smile, she gestured for me to have a seat. Evidently, she had no intention of letting me slip away. Though I wasn’t enthused about doing this in a place where my boss might see me, I sat down—and as I did so, I confessed the truth: “I actually have a little more than that.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha! How very honest of you. To reward that honesty, I’ll only charge you a hundred yen.”
Evidently, she had seen through my lie from the start. Shimamura always could, too, which made me think I probably just sucked at lying.
In the time since I’d last seen this woman, the massive vertical crack in her crystal ball seemed to have grown, like a gash in the earth. “Is something the matter?” she asked, reading my gaze.
“Oh, I was just...wondering how you make a living.”
“Lots of side jobs. This is my principal occupation, but it’s more of a passion project. During the summer, I also assist in cooking takoyaki.”
Come to think of it, I remembered seeing her at the festival last year. The summer festival... I could only recall maybe half of what happened that night, and the passage of time refused to bring it back. I could remember biting my tongue and spraying blood, but the minor details were fuzzy. I must have been under a lot of mental stress; after all, if Shimamura had rejected me that night, my entire life would have ended.
“How are things going with your little girlfriend?” she asked casually, and I had to stop to think about how much I’d actually told her. But my memories of other people were dim, and I couldn’t remember a thing.
Eh...at this point, does it really matter? So I answered her honestly: “Um, pretty decent—no, pretty good, I...think.” At the end, I straightened my posture, adding strength to my statement.
“Hmmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “Smooth sailing, is it? Then I have no real advice for you.” Scowling, she set her chin in her hand. “People with nothing to worry about don’t exactly seek me out.”
“Well, I didn’t seek you out, either.”
“In any case, I’m glad to hear that it’s going well. Oh, and your lucky item is a horror movie,” she announced suddenly, as though she’d rolled a six-sided die at random. How could she have divined that from our conversation? “A horror movie will bring the two of you closer together, both physically and emotionally. It will make for a lovely memory.”
“Are you even trying?”
Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure how Shimamura felt about horror films. She didn’t seem like the type to get scared, but what if she was? Why would I make her watch a movie she didn’t like? I squinted dubiously at the fortune teller. Hard to imagine her suggestion would have any effect.
“Stare at me all you like, but I won’t read your fortune,” she rebuffed, invalidating her own advice. “For a measly hundred yen? Fat chance. I’m just making conversation.” She waved her hand like a fan, slapping her crystal ball.
“Uh, okay.” So what was the point of the lucky item, then?
“That will be one hundred yen, please.”
Apparently, she was still dead set on charging me—but why was I expected to pay for ordinary conversation, exactly? Confused, I pulled out my wallet and set the 100-yen coin in her palm.
“Thank you,” she replied, swiftly retracting her hand. “Memories are a wonderful thing. Though they fade with time, they never grow stagnant or decay.” She clenched her fist for a moment, and when she opened it once more, the coin was gone.
“Whoa...”
Pleased with my reaction, she smiled. “I recommend you make as many memories as possible. See you around.”
Working quickly, she packed up all her things and set off at a run—surprisingly fast, considering how heavy her clothes looked. No sooner had she left than my manager walked out from inside the restaurant, shot a glance at her retreating figure, then looked at me.
“You supposed to chase her.”
“What? Me?”
“Oops. I mean, supposed to chase her off.”
“...Yeah, I guess I was.” I looked down at the chair she had left me sitting in. Only then did I realize that it was one of our dining room chairs.
“Hyah!”
Not content to merely retreat, my manager walked up and threw out a sumo slap, very nearly chasing me off instead.
Mochi Mochi Adachi
Mochi Mochi Adachi
“THEY’VE GOT PRACTICALLY my whole childhood in here!”
At the convenience store, when Shimamura came to a stop in the candy section, I turned and walked back to her side. As she crouched down in front of the shelves, I peered over her, gripping an unpurchased water bottle in my hand. Normally, I would never spare a passing thought for this aisle, where they stocked the cheap candy aimed at children.
“A long time ago, my neighborhood had this...variety store, I guess you’d call it? They’d sell rakes, brooms, packs of seeds, all kinds of stuff, but I’d always go there because they had candy. An old lady ran the place by herself, and...yeah, that’s what I remember.”
“Huh.”
I’d never seen that kind of storefront before, so it was hard to picture in my mind based solely on her description. Likewise, whenever she recounted memories of going to the store with her parents, I couldn’t relate. How on earth had I spent my childhood?
A lot of the candy packaging was brightly colored...or, to put it less charitably, an assault on the eyes, blinding me with primary colors. They were also priced more cheaply than I’d ever seen at any other store.
“Have you ever eaten stuff like this? I bet you haven’t,” Shimamura remarked, answering her own question. She was right, of course. “You’re a city girl, after all.”
“Uh, I was born in the same town as you...”
“I just mean your vibes!” she laughed, grabbing one of the packages: a set of pink mochi-esque rice cakes labeled “cherry flavor,” the translucent container divided into four small sections that held one each. Then she straightened up to her full height, suggesting that she intended to buy them. “To be honest, I didn’t know they still made these. I used to eat ’em all the time—they were my favorite.”
“Huh.”
“In fact, I’ve never even heard of some of these flavors. I guess they’re branching out!” She scanned over the section one last time, eyeing the other colors—I couldn’t even begin to guess what flavors the blue and green ones were supposed to be—before turning and walking with me to the register.
After we made our purchases, we walked to the far wall of the parking lot. The sun wasn’t too strong today, so I didn’t terribly mind standing in it. Loading our bookbags into the basket of my bicycle, we opened our respective items.
The mochi cakes came with a toothpick included. Evidently, this was the standard way to eat them. Shimamura stabbed it into one of them, lifted it into her mouth, and smiled dreamily, as though savoring more than just the flavor.
Part of me wished I could have been there in those memories of hers.
Sensing my gaze, she stabbed a second mochi and offered it to me. “Want one?”
“...Okay, but just one.”
With my assent, she went ahead and brought it to my lips; stooping down slightly, I pinched it between my lips. As I chewed, the firm texture was accompanied by a mild sweetness, nothing complicated. It was so light in flavor, I suspected I would never taste what Shimamura was experiencing.
At present, the time since I’d met her was dramatically shorter than the time I’d spent without her, and it would take what felt like an eternity to overturn that. If I had to guess, this was part of why I was so consumed with desperation.
“See? It’s surprisingly good, right?” Shimamura prompted.
“Uh...yeah,” I answered, nodding evasively. Then, after a moment of thought, I took action. “Wait here a sec.”
“Adachi...?”
Entrusting my bottled water to her care, I went back inside the convenience store.
“Did you forget something?” she called after me, but no, I hadn’t forgotten. This was a last-minute addition—I was buying a new memory.
In the candy aisle, I picked up the grape version of the mochi cakes, since it seemed like the least offensive of the options. After paying for this single item, I went straight back to Shimamura; smiling, she watched as I opened it up.
“Now you can make memories with me, too.”
Merely spending time together wasn’t enough—I wanted to stuff my coffers full of treasure until I couldn’t see the bottom. That was my motivation to buy matching mochi. But I wasn’t sure how much, if any, of that feeling I’d managed to convey without stating it outright.
Then Shimamura let out a genial laugh. “I’ve never tried that flavor before,” she remarked, grinning at my grape cakes. “May I please have one?”
“Y-you may.”
Stabbing one with the toothpick, I hesitantly lifted it to her lips. Unlike me, she accepted it with grace, chewing softly.
“It’s good!”
Her voice and smile were always melting my stiff, clumsy heart into new shapes. Meanwhile, I picked up a mochi for myself—because this time, I was sure I’d get a taste of that bittersweetness.
Talent Versus Cowardice
Talent Versus Cowardice
“HMM... HMMMM...”
Her offhanded gaze nevertheless made me sweat. My eyes widened, and on reflex I raised both hands slightly, as if in surrender. But then she started to examine my palms, and by that point I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be hiding anymore. This was her reaction when I walked over to her desk after the final bell rang, hoping to walk her to the front gates.
“Wh-what is it?”
Was it something I did or...was there something on my face? I immediately reached up to touch it. Seemingly satisfied with my panic, Shimamura smiled, her chin resting on her palm. “I was just trying to think of something I can do better than you,” she explained, grabbing her bookbag and rising to her feet.
Better than me? As we walked out of the classroom and down the hallway, I mulled over her words. Shimamura always had the strangest trains of thought. “Pretty sure you do lots of stuff better,” I replied.
“Oh yeah? Like what?” she asked, her eyes glittering with curiosity and...some type of expectation. Now that I was put on the spot, however, I couldn’t think of anything specific. The two of us had no opportunity to compete—and even if we did, I’d never once considered myself superior. Literally never.
For a moment, I thought of the days when we played ping-pong, but my life after that was spent walking on eggshells, teased and tormented and fulfilled and frantic. No part of that struck me as “doing better.” She always had the upper hand, whereas I stood downwind. This was undeniable fact...and yet, I suspected Shimamura wouldn’t accept it as an answer.
“That’s what I thought,” she declared victoriously. Well, then, didn’t she just beat me at something?
“Okay, uhhh...if we pushed each other, I bet you’d win.” After all, I could never bring myself to push back, so she’d defeat me handily. In fact, she’d probably slam me into the wall so hard that I’d disintegrate.
As we walked down the stairs, she looked up at me. “Not if you pushed with all your might. I’ve got a literary name, you know—I’ll fold like paper.”
“Literary...? I mean, I...I’m not going to use all my might!”
“Then it’s not a fair competition!” she laughed. “I guess I’ll just have to experiment.”
Her cheerful, lighthearted decision-making had helped me more times than I could count. Then, as we changed into our outdoor shoes, she suddenly pointed in a specific direction. There was a locker right in front of her finger, but I suspected that was unrelated.
“Which means I know where to have our date today.”
“Huh?”
“Let’s go!”
Steering me by the shoulders, she pushed me along. Evidently, we were in for some sort of competition already—but for now, I merely relished the opportunity for a date.
***
And so, I absently followed along in Shimamura’s shadow until we arrived—at her house. She walked inside, traded her bookbag for a ball, and came right back out.
“Is that a basketball?”
“We gotta hurry before we run out of daylight.”
“Welcome ho—hey! Hold it, missy! Where are you going?!”
As soon as her mother’s footsteps erupted from inside the house, Shimamura shouted, “Run for it!” and took off like a rocket. Flustered, I hurried after her. But Mrs. Shimamura pursued us at full speed, so we were forced to run as fast as we could.
Did this woman chase anything that moved, like some kind of dog? Similarly to that one time when she followed me home, she shot straight past us. For a mom, she had really quick reflexes...and feet. In fact, her speed was downright unbelievable, to the point that I wondered if she operated in fast-forward.
“Welcome home,” she proclaimed, grabbing her daughter by the back of her collar.
“Thanks,” Shimamura replied reluctantly.
“So, are you two headed out on a date?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Mrs. Shimamura shot me a glance, then grinned mischievously at her daughter’s grumbling. Now I understood: Shimamura hadn’t spilled the beans, nor had her mother revealed how much she knew. If I had to guess, her intention was to keep playing dumb until Shimamura was ready to talk about it.
“Don’t stay out too late, all right? You too, Adachi-chan.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Go and have fun.”
With that, she set her daughter loose. Shimamura whirled around and glared at her, but by that point she was already heading home, and her back was turned. Only then did I notice the little tanuki clinging to her shoulders... Wait, what?
“Good grief. What is that woman’s problem? Why would she actually chase us?” Shimamura complained, adjusting her shirt collar.
The tanuki declined to comment, so I decided to pretend I hadn’t seen her.
“Well, uh...you guys seem close.”
“From your perspective, maybe. If I’d known she would hunt us down, I would have changed clothes while I was there... Oh well. Let’s go.”
Swiftly changing tack, she started dribbling the basketball in one hand. With the other, she took my hand—so casually, a strangled squeak swirled out from my mouth.
“Oh. Oops.” She must have done it subconsciously, because she caught herself and looked my way. “Forgot it was you. Eh, it’s fine.” Smiling brightly, she smoothed over her mistake by squeezing my hand. But her word choice had raised a question in my mind.
“Who else would I be...?”
Was there another girl in her life she held hands with? A burning sensation shot all the way up my throat. But Shimamura didn’t seem to notice my reaction. “My sister,” she answered nonchalantly.
“Huh? Oh...I see.”
Her little sister. Right. In that case...it was...fine... Truth be told, I didn’t like it, but I had the sense to know that if I said as much out loud, she wouldn’t be happy. Therefore, I had no choice but to respect it. From here on, perhaps my most important task was to learn when I was allowed to be a rotten person.
“I...I’m not your sister...jerk...”
My sulking came out slow and half-hearted, jabbing Shimamura like a shriveled beak. Satisfied, she tightened her grip with a wide smile. It was hard to push my bike with only one hand, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.
And so, she led me down the spiral bridge to the bottom, where an ancient hoop was shrouded in shade alongside a dirty, unmaintained bench. I had anticipated this from the moment I saw the ball in her hands, but yes, evidently, this was to be a basketball date. How does that work? Confused, I set my bicycle in a visible spot.
Shimamura smirked, batting the ball up and down as if to shake the rust off. “Heh heh heh... Now that I think about it, I was on the basketball team in junior high, y’know.”
“You forgot?” In truth, I loved how ditzy she could be.
“So, I say we have a free-throw competition!”
“Okay.”
“Aww, you’re so well-behaved.” The moment she stroked my hair, she had already achieved psychological victory. “You wanna go first?”
“Oh, uh...sure.” It didn’t really matter either way, but the head pats had put me in an agreeable mood.
I hadn’t touched a basketball since junior high, or at least, couldn’t remember playing it in high school. I had skipped a lot of gym class, after all. Thinking back to the days when we used to spy on the empty court from the loft, I moved to stand on the spot Shimamura indicated. When I looked up, the hoop seemed awfully far away.
At first, I held the ball at approximately forehead height. Then I sensed that it’d be easier to score with an underhand throw, so I adopted the “granny shot” stance. Looking up at the hoop, I gauged the distance and flung out a half-hearted attempt, the same way any amateur would.
Soundlessly, the ball left my palms and took flight, climbing up an invisible hill to reach the hoop. There, it bounced off the backboard with a thud and, by some miracle, fell limply into the net.
“What?”
I was just as surprised as she was. As the ball bounced across the court, Shimamura jogged after it; cradling it in her arms, she walked back to me, and I let her take my place.
“Nice one.”
“It feels fake,” I admitted humbly.
“Well, you better ball-lieve it... Uh, never mind.” She quickly changed the subject. “It really takes me back, y’know. Watching from a dirty bench while a pretty girl shoots hoops.”
Shimamura ran her tongue over her lips like she could taste the memory. Slowly, gracefully, she raised the ball over her head. Unlike my shaky throw, hers was practiced, the smooth motion tracing a firm trajectory through the air. She leaped with confidence, and the ball soared. Then, as if guided by an invisible ceiling, it gently descended, magnetized to the hoop, and...hit the rim and bounced off.
As she landed, Shimamura lightly shook her right wrist. For a moment, silence flowed between us, as if all sound and wind had come to a stop.
“Clang,” she stated blankly as she turned to look at me, imitating the sound of the ball striking the hoop.
“Uh...clang.”
“Or maybe it was more of a rattle?”
“I...guess?”
As I contemplated this, she trotted over, picked up the ball, then came bounding back, almost like—well, not to be rude, but almost like a dog. “Junior high Shima-chan would have glared daggers at you.”
“Huh?”
“But high school Shima-chan simply chuckled. The end.” And yet she didn’t seem all that amused, even when she bobbed her head and silently pretended to laugh. The ball returned to my hands. “Here’s where the real competition begins.”
“That lifeless voice is starting to scare me.”
“Just messing with you.” Her expression looked genuine this time, but her voice remained flat.
Inexplicably, my subsequent throws mostly made it in, while Shimamura’s mostly missed. After each shot, she would go and retrieve the ball before I had the chance.
“I see. I get it now.” Countless “competitions” later, she looked at me with a sunny expression, rolling the ball from palm to palm while sweat beaded on her forehead. “You’re a girlboss, Adachi,” she declared, like it was an epiphany of sorts. “I’m so proud.”
From my perspective, the praise was too big to fit me, and it didn’t feel right. But Shimamura didn’t look bitter in the slightest, as though the accomplishment was her own. After a few dribbles, she paused for a long moment, as if to catch her breath before taking her final shot—and a beat later, the net rang out with the sound of victory.
Let Me Die in the Moon’s Embrace
Let Me Die in the Moon’s Embrace
AROUND NOON, the house was silent, and my room was devoid of visitors save for the sun’s rays. As I lay in bed, I had the uncommon opportunity to think about something other than Shimamura for a change. Death, to be specific—though not my death, of course.
My house was never very loud. My mother and I were both quiet people, and since we didn’t interact, no sound was created between us. For that reason, I was generally the only source of sound in the room. But because my mother was still alive, there were some exceptions to this rule. Once she died, however, those exceptions would cease to be. Death was the absence of possibility.
Not to state the obvious, but when someone died, it meant I would never see them again. Nothing new would come of our relationship, so I would have no choice but to forge ahead with the memories already in my collection...and I would almost certainly drop a few along the way.
I hated the thought of forgetting Shimamura bit by bit without even realizing, and it hurt to know that it was an inevitability. Then again, I wasn’t sure I would outlive her, considering how much energy I expended every day. Perhaps I’d be the first to go—but in that case, I would feel guilty. If only we could die together, at precisely the same time.
Vaguely, I hoped death would come during a warm season. After all, it would be sad to pass away into the cold.
Sitting upright, I grabbed my phone. After that morbid train of thought, I needed to hear Shimamura’s voice.
“May I call you?”
My message received a swift and favorable response, so I reached out without delay.
“Hello?”
“Um...hey,” I replied.
“What’s up?”
“I just...w-wanted to hear your voice, that’s all...”
“Laaaaaa!” she sang out, to grant my request.
“Uh...wow. You really held that note.”
“Heh heh heh!”
For some reason, she sounded a bit smug about this. I loved how childish she could get every now and then. But if I pointed it out, she would get self-conscious and stop, so I admired it in secret.
“Did that help?”
“I think I need a little more.”
“Well, if you insist. Nnn... Na na naaa...!”
Apparently, that was our running gag for today. I didn’t know which direction it was headed, but nevertheless, I decided to run after it, too. I would follow Shimamura no matter where she went, because that was my life’s meaning. Alarmingly straightforward, perhaps, compared to my thoughts on death.
I was well aware that I wasn’t good at expressing myself. I stuttered, couldn’t carry a conversation, and only ever babbled about stuff that didn’t matter. And yet, Shimamura still managed to enjoy talking to me—as if she found intrinsic value not in what I had to say, but in me as a person.
This was what enabled me to suppress my ever-present anxiety and allow myself to believe...not that I doubted her, but...I could truly believe that she might actually like me, as arrogant as it seemed. In return, it inspired in me a feeling of love so powerful, it made each of my toes wiggle individually. I’d done it in front of her once, and the memory of her wide-eyed surprise made me feel warm and fuzzy.
It meant a lot just to casually merge my time together with Shimamura’s. Everything I lost in the solitude of this room overflowed until I was practically drowning. It made me feel so alive...and so hungry for this life to continue.
After the call, I clasped my phone between both palms and made what was perhaps the most ardent prayer of my life.
One day, when I die, please don’t take away my possibilities with Shimamura.
Even death was surely too trifling to keep me from her.
And One Day, the Dawn Will Come: Bright Blue
Nagafuji’s Next
Nagafuji’s Nest
“SHALL I CLEAN THE FLOOR for you, madam? What do you think?”
“Just do it already,” I snapped, pointing with my toes. Why did she frame it like she was doing me a favor?
“Okay, then, this side is my half, and that side is yours!”
“Hey!”
But I did it anyway, since I was bored. As we swept the courtyard hall together, a passing helper smirked at us.
A few years had gone by since we graduated high school, and at some point Nagafuji had started working at my house, joining our team of assistants. Obviously, she was a total nepotism hire—not that she was officially hired, mind you. She received no salary outside of room and board.
Long story short, you could say she had simply taken up residence at our house, no different from the animals that had colonized our pond of their own accord. Her plan was to camp in a tent in the courtyard during favorable weather. What’s more, she was so free-spirited that she would go back to her parents’ house whenever fancy struck, and on those occasions, I was inclined to join her. Like today, for instance.
Regardless of her attitude while on the job, however, perhaps she deserved praise for working at all. I certainly didn’t. Seeing as I was born into a home that had everything, why fight it? My life was easy, and at the moment, I was fairly content.
A bathtub with more than enough space for two. A house so large that I wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered counting all of the rooms. All of it was given to me right from the start, so...for now, I wanted to enjoy it.
After lunch, the two of us headed to the butcher’s shop. Nagafuji had a big backpack slung over her shoulders but wasn’t wearing her glasses; she hadn’t touched them ever since she moved into my place. But I understood their original purpose, so I didn’t comment on it. Then I felt her gaze from overhead and looked up. “What?”
“I’m happy now that you’ve started wearing kimonos more often, Hino.”
“Well, I mean...now that I’m used to it, it saves me the trouble of choosing an outfit in the morning.” There was another reason, but like hell I would say it to her face.
While the other buildings on the block had all faded slowly over time, the exterior of the butcher’s shop looked just as I remembered from my childhood. For some reason, this really meant a lot to me. Then Mrs. Nagafuji looked up from the sale sign she had just finished setting out and saw us coming. “Oh, you’re home!”
“My triumphant return. Raaahhh,” the idiot declared, raising a half-hearted fist into the air as she charged at her mother. Mrs. Nagafuji swatted her away, and she spun into the storefront. Really, it was alarming just how little she had changed since we were five.
“Nice to see you, ma’am.”
“Welcome home, Akira-chan.”
Her inviting smile was joined by a few more gray hairs than last time. After a beat, I laughed. I was a Hino girl, and nothing would ever change that, but...
“It’s good to be back.”
Here at the Nagafuji house, the bathtub was now too small for both of us, and there was neither a courtyard nor the space to play hide-and-go-seek...but somehow, my heart fit right in.
Nagafuji’s Rest
Nagafuji’s Rest
“THIS RICE BALL IS DELICIOUS. It tastes like someone took the shrimp out of a tenmusu.”
“If it sucks that much, you don’t have to eat it.”
“It’s good!”
Relishing each bite of her plain onigiri, Nagafuji gazed out at the courtyard—a smorgasbord of plants I was sick of looking at, personally, but to her, they hadn’t yet lost their flavor. After we slowly savored our extra-large rice balls, we sat on the porch and enjoyed a cup of tea.
“Hey girl, wanna come clean the bathroom with me?”
“That’s your job today. Besides, you love the tub.”
“Using it: good. Cleaning it: bad.”
“Shut up and get going,” I retorted, slapping her udders sideways for encouragement. Using the momentum she gained from smacking me upside the head in return, she rose to her feet...and after a moment, I followed suit. “Eh, I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Since graduating high school, I had lived an unproductive, jobless life at home—a meager existence with hardly any meat on its bones, compared to those who spent decades earning money to survive. That said, I didn’t feel a burning drive to work when it wasn’t necessary...but ah, well. Lately I had come to accept that my life was different. Sure, maybe I wouldn’t leave a legacy behind, but I didn’t really need to.
Together we headed to the bathroom. Inside the changing area, I stripped off my socks and tied up my long sleeves using my kimono’s waist cord; Nagafuji tried to copy me, but her sleeves were short to begin with, and she didn’t wear socks inside the house. Ultimately, she just stuck her foot in my face, spread her toes, and hopped one-legged into the bathing area. I couldn’t think of something to say to that, so I shrugged it off as a relic of our childhood together.
The bathing area smelled faintly of wet wood—the gentle scent of hinoki cypress. The tub was so large, we could share it with plenty of space to spare; hell, Nagafuji could swim in it. Now that I thought about it, perhaps it was too big for one person to clean by herself. Regardless, it was still her job to do.
First, we drained the tub. For some reason, Nagafuji relished the fact that it was designed to hold hot water at all times. To be fair, her family only ever filled their tub when someone was about to use it. Maybe that was typical for normal people, but no one who lived in this house was normal. Why did we have all this money, anyway?
Real talk: I wasn’t all that familiar with the Hino family history. Whenever I asked one of my four older brothers, they each recounted an entirely different story—that our ancestors were bandits, that they made a living by selling whatever came flying past, that they adopted a successor who worked hard to bring prosperity to our family. Naturally, the truth was unclear. All I knew for certain was that our bathtub was huge.
Once the tub was emptied, I made eye contact with the idiot who stood at a distance with her arms crossed, watching me hop down with a deck brush. Don’t piss me off with that smug smirk. “Hey, wallflower!”
“I’m the supervisor.”
“Get to work!”
“Okay.”
Satisfied, Nagafuji grabbed a brush of her own and got to work; she focused on the shower area while I polished the tub itself. The soles of my feet itched from the residual heat, but it was kind of fun to make splashing sounds with each step. Without the water, even the same old bathtub looked completely different; when Nagafuji slid open the big window, I caught a glimpse of the courtyard trees bathed in light.
“Perhaps we should have taken a bath before we drained all the water.”
“If we did that, you’d have taken a nap instead of doing your damn job.”
“I...I would?!”
Ignoring her feigned surprise, I turned my thoughts to another matter.
“Actually, I’m told that is a habit of mine.”
“I’m not questioning myself, dipshit! I was just thinking about that one time a few years back when Shimamura dozed off after taking a bath here.”
As I recalled, it was her twentieth birthday, and when I jokingly offered to loan her the tub, she took me up on it. Something about it reminded me of Nagafuji—the ditziness, maybe? She was a good egg, though.
“Shimamma... Now there’s a name that takes me back.”
“That’s not what I said.” Although I had called her by various nicknames over the years. In my case it was a purposeful choice, but if I had to guess, Nagafuji genuinely couldn’t remember her actual name. “Anyway, she moved away, so we’ll probably never see her again.”
“Aww, don’t worry. Shimarma will be just fine without us around.”
“What are you talking about?”
We weren’t that good of friends, just schoolmates. Close enough to chat sometimes, but not close enough for an emotional tug-of-war: the perfect distance. That said, I was inclined to agree that she would be fine without us. After all, she wouldn’t be alone.
Steam rose from the last dregs of the bathwater, wetting my cheeks and wrists. As I worked, sweat soon joined the fray—the sweat of my labor. I wasn’t sure how it was any different from the slight sweat I worked up on a stroll, though.
While I cleaned, I periodically checked on Nagafuji, but now that she had gotten started, she had the momentum to keep going. Enome-san had once remarked that she “actually does her work, believe it or not,” so perhaps her job was safe for the time being.
Then a different helper showed up, probably to check Nagafuji’s productivity, too. “Hard at work in here?”
“I intend to polish the floor until it’s see-through,” Nagafuji declared, moving her brush back and forth at high speed and wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Don’t worry about her. If she tries to slack off, I’ll kick her ass,” I announced. I meant every word of it, but for some reason, the helper chuckled. Then Nagafuji started laughing, too. “Pipe down, you!”
“Duly noted.” And with that, the other helper left—for approximately two seconds before hastily peeking back into the room. “Shall I take over for you?”
Evidently, my efforts to blend in had...gone down the drain. Shut up, brain. “It’s fine. I’m only doing it ’cause I’m bored.”
“All right. Just refrain from mentioning it to your mother, please. I’d prefer to keep my head.”
“Sure thing.” And with that, the helper finally left.
“Are you not allowed to clean or something?”
“Our helpers are paid to do the work. It’s not fair if I do yours for you.”
“But I’m not being paid at all.”
“You got a rice ball, didn’t you?” And in advance, too!
“Hmmm... Paid in food...”
As she spoke, she diligently cleaned the edge of the wall. So often she seemed like she was just goofing off—and most of the time, she was—but it was clear to me that she was serious about making a life for herself here. Through the haze of the steam, I imagined us spending our whole future in this mansion.
“After we finish cleaning, we should take a bath together.”
“Huh? Oh...well...sure, that works.”
For a moment, I hesitated. It felt like an awful waste to use the bathtub right after taking the time to clean it. But then the desire to wash the sweat off filled my chest like a cup of water.
“I guess it’s not the worst, being paid in food and Hino.”
“Gee, sorry I’m barely tolerable for you.”
And so, I would do a little cleaning until I was satisfied, take a bath, lounge around until sunset, spend some time with Nagafuji, then go to bed.
“It’s so relaxing, being with you,” I muttered, bluntly confessing my feelings as I rested the handle of the deck brush against my forehead. It always felt like dipping my foot in a lukewarm puddle of summer rain.
“Personally, I find every day thrilling.”
“What, watching the fish pond?”
“Mucho exciting-o.”
If it wasn’t true, she would have given up a long time ago. But she hadn’t, so...
“Ha ha!”
Grinding the brush handle into my forehead, I felt perhaps I could stand to learn a thing or two from her.
Tweet Tweet Tweet
Tweet Tweet Tweet
WHY DID I ENCOUNTER THAT gremlin every time I visited the pool? Even when I tried to look away and ignore her, she only seemed to enjoy talking at me all the more.
“Hey, are you listening?”
“No.”
“Lately I’ve gotten pretty good at bird calls. Wanna hear it?”
“Are you listening?”
“Of course! I’ll start with a varied tit.”
Then she started making freakish sounds, and the looks we got from the passersby were painful. If only she wouldn’t involve me in her nonsense.
“What did you think? Close, right?”
“I’ve never heard the call of a varied tit.” Or maybe I had, but I wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from other birds.
“Well, it sounds like this.”
Smugly, she started chirping again. Shuuut uppp! If this wasn’t harassment, then what the hell was it? And why did it happen nearly every day? Then I remembered the tactic her husband had taught me the night their family had a sleepover at our house:
“If you try to initiate a serious conversation, she tends to get uncomfortable and leave the room.”
It made a lot of sense, considering her personality. And her face. Now I just needed a serious topic...but what? I tried to think of something, but to no avail. What sort of serious conversation could I possibly have with this menace? We couldn’t reminisce about the past considering I barely knew her.
Frankly, she was far more annoying than any avian. When I glared at her, she seemed to delight in it. And so, I attempted an exorcism:
“Let’s talk economics.”
“Sounds good! Of all the local grocery stores that sell daikon radishes, I think the cheapest one is...”
Instantly, I knew I had failed.
Obviously, This Never Happened at Any Point in Our Lives
Obviously, This Never Happened at Any Point in Our Lives
“HYPOTHETICALLY, IF I KILLED SOMEONE, would you help me bury the body?”
“What?”
Adjusting her goggles, the menace came splashing into my pool lane at the gym with the most insane opener I had ever heard. But she was always like this, so I recovered quickly.
“You murdered someone?”
“I said hypothetically! C’mon, Hana-chan, don’t take everything so seriously!”
Without hesitation, she violated my personal bubble and slapped my shoulder with her wet hand. Then, as if on a whim, she splashed water in my face. “I’ll kill you,” I snapped, wiping it off.
Behind her goggles, her eyes were twinkling. “Man, you really gotta find your inner peace.”
I wish I could. Also, I’m not your Hana-chan.
“I’m just making conversation, all right?”
“What happened to economics?”
“Are you still on about that?”
I’ll fucking kill you. “It’s just not the sort of subject you drop on someone without warning.” That being said, she typically shot between topics at the speed of light, so in a sense, it was no different from usual.
Lately, I had stopped thinking of her as a fellow earthling. To me, she was an alien from the furthest reaches of space, trying (and failing) to communicate. It would easily explain why our conversations never panned out...so why did she keep hunting me down to talk to me?
“Well, you’re always telling me to fuck off and die and go to hell, but I’m wondering how much you actually hate me.”
Which was why she’d asked me...whether I’d bury a corpse? It made so little sense that I could only assume her brain cells were in fact lumpy little amoebae, impossible to iron out.
“Between the two of us, I really think we could get away with it!”
“Why should I help you? A normal person would report you to the police.”
“But then I’ll get awwested!”
“Good.” And with that, I started swimming.
Why did she have to come into my lane and get in my way? I cut across the water as swiftly as possible to get away from her. Then I felt a shift in the current against my toes, sensed she was chasing me, and sped up. As if to torment me, she did the same.
What the hell did she want? Was being a nuisance literally the only way she knew how to communicate? Lately, I had started to wonder if perhaps she was just as antisocial as I was—but if so, she certainly didn’t feel like a kindred spirit. Her personality drew in a certain type of person, whereas I rejected them wherever possible. Even if we were equally awkward, we presented very differently to an outside observer.
Eventually, she got sick of chasing me. Right when it seemed like she was ready to swim like a normal person, however, she poked me in the arm as she passed, and I nearly scoffed into the pool water.
I doubled back to the start and slid my goggles up. There I waited, dripping wet, until she caught up to me, then served her a death stare.
“Are you a child?”
“Trust me, I played way worse pranks as a kid. Man, I’ve really grown up since then...”
“Spare me your nostalgia. Just shut up and swim.”
“Who died and made you lifeguard?”
Ignoring her, I kicked off from the wall once more, gliding through the water. When I came up for air, however, her face was there at point-blank range, and I nearly sank. She wasn’t competing with me—she was matching my pace on foot, splashing with every step. Worse, she was silently stooping down over me like she was watching my every move. Every time I came up for a breath, our eyes met; when I tried facing the other way, it felt all wrong and spoiled my stroke. By the time I finished my lap, I found her standing there with her arms folded, waiting for me.
“You’re really freaking me out.”
“First you tell me to shut up, and now this? Make up your mind, lady.”
Pulling off my goggles, I let out a sigh. Did she think something would change if she just talked to me enough? Well...perhaps it would. For some reason, I thought of my daughter and my empty nest.
“See, I don’t think my husband would help me. He’d try to convince me to turn myself in.”
“Glad to hear he’s got a brain.” Were we really still talking about this? It was rare for her to stick to one topic for this long. In fact, it made me wonder if... “Are you sure you haven’t actually killed someone?”
“Hell no! That’s terrifying! Why would you ask me such a thing?” she rebuffed, recoiling—but I could have asked this lunatic the same question. “I’m just saying, if I kill someone, you should help me bury them, and if you kill someone, I’ll help you. Deal?”
I never asked for this deal.
“That’s what friends are for!”
“What? Friends?”
Grinning, she tilted her head ever so delicately, pretending to be cutesy. It pissed me off.
“Do you really hate me, Hana-chan?”
“So much, I could die.”
She seemed to find my conviction amusing. Seriously, was there anything in the world that ever ruffled her feathers?
“Okay, then, let me ask you this, just in case: Should I stop talking to you?”
“Oh, now you ask?”
“If it genuinely bothers you, I’ll stop,” she replied flatly, her usual whimsy gone, gauging my reaction with a straight face. I wasn’t sure how to process this. Every other time I tried to push her away, she rebounded like a boomerang, but now she was stuck to the wall and wasn’t coming back.
“Well...”
For a moment, I hesitated—a moment I quickly came to regret. Instantly, she lit up like a lamp right in front of me.
“Aha! I knew it! You do think of me as a friend!”
“Go to hell.”
“Don’t wanna.”
How many times had we had this exchange? It was the very definition of pointless.
“You have the worst possible personality as a human being.” But if you asked me whether we were friends...for some reason, it hit close to the mark. Interpersonal relationships were just so complicated. If I couldn’t even connect with my own daughter, how would I manage it with anyone else?
“Well, I like people like you, Hana-chan. You snarky types.”
“Are you stupid or something?”
“It’s a promise, then! If something needs burying, we’ll help each other.”
“Fine, whatever.”
“Everybody needs someone like that in their life, right?”
For a moment, I considered it...and as I brushed the water from my itchy nose, I sensed that perhaps she was right.
I could imagine us in a dense, dark forest, enveloped in the scent of rain and freshly overturned earth. Wiping away the sweat and fatigue, I would see her there next to me, silently digging. Knowing her, our eyes would meet, and she would smile in spite of the circumstances...
Closing my eyes, I shook away the mental image. When my lips parted, I tasted chlorine.
“Not at all.”
There was no forest here.
Forever Home
Forever Home
“MY TUMMY IS PREPARED FOR YUMMY!”
“Just a little longer...I think.”
When I peeked into the oven to check, I was met with the sweet smell of sweet potatoes glazed in egg wash. Then I locked eyes with the face reflected in the glass window and felt a little strange for standing in the kitchen. Was it just me, or did I look a bit like my sister when she was in high school?
“I am a tiny bit fussy when it comes to sweet potatoes.”
“You haven’t mentioned this detail before.”
“Heh heh heh! I only just thought of it.”
Store-bought treats were great and all, but I thought it would be fun to make our own. I decided to give sweet potatoes a try, since they were supposed to be easy—and sure enough, the process was pretty straightforward. Now, as long as I pulled them out at the right time, we ought to end up with something edible.
I was partway through making them when Yachi turned up, fork and knife in hand, waiting hungrily. Incidentally, she was dressed like a boar today—or a boarlet, I guess? It was pretty cute. She was also carrying a children’s ukulele on her back, which “Papa-san” (my father) supposedly bought for her.
“He said it was a token of gratitude.”
“For what?”
“Oh... Come to think of it, I did not ask.”
Evidently, she really liked it, because she took it everywhere. I often heard her playing it—or rather, strumming. She liked making sounds, but they never formed into a cohesive song. Maybe she didn’t understand the concept of performing music. Still, I suspected she would be able to replicate it if she witnessed it firsthand.
Whenever Yachi wrote or drew, the end product always looked like a carbon copy taken from somewhere else. Her handwriting looked like it was typed on a computer. If you gave her a sketchpad, she’d hand back a landscape so vivid, it may as well be a photograph. I guess she was just really good at mimicry. Even her face was copied from someone else, I hear.
“I don’t gettt ittt,” I sang to myself as I checked our treats one last time. “Yeah, I think they’re ready now,” I decided aloud.
“Yaaay!” Her exclamation was punctuated by a strum of the ukulele.
I pulled them out and moved them onto our plates. Even the smell was perfect. I’d made a big batch, but knowing Yachi, she could easily finish them without my help. When I set her plate in front of her, a gust of sparkles rose up from her hair.
Now that I was looking at her, with thick blue eyelashes, she was just impossibly beautiful. Not gorgeous or cute, but flawless like a gemstone, except without the hard angles. An elegantly balanced contradiction. And now this unearthly beauty was eating my cooking with a bright smile, impaling each piece with her fork. She didn’t seem to need the knife at all.
“Oh ho... To think Little baked this. Tastes like oh ho.”
Well, she was still eating it, so it clearly met her standards. I didn’t know anyone who enjoyed eating treats as much as she did, so I couldn’t help but spoil her.
“Here’s your drink.”
“Much obliged.”
When I handed her a cup of milk, she raised it straight to her mouth and drained it, until all that remained was a ring of white around her lips. This always happened. I grabbed a napkin and cleaned her up.
“Much obliged again. It seems I owe you a token of gratitude, Little.”
“Such as?”
“I can do anything, you know!”
“Hmmm...” Something in my gut told me Yachi’s “anything” really, truly meant anything...and yet, this was the same girl who couldn’t be trusted to do the dishes. “All I ever want is for you to think of this place as home.”
To me, she was family now. If one day she left as suddenly as she arrived, I would be crushed. I loved this house and everyone in it, and I couldn’t imagine ever leaving. It’d been this way my whole life, from elementary school all the way to high school.
“Then that is what I shall do.” Just like that, she agreed to grant my wish, then looked up at me and smiled. “Heh heh heh! It seems you’re not so Little anymore,” she remarked wistfully, chewing her bite of sweet potato with gusto.
“And yet you’re exactly the same, Yachi.” Although she felt so much smaller now—probably because I’d gotten taller.
“Ah, I can see the family resemblance.”
“You can?”
“Your sister once made a similar remark. She seemed to think it was a good thing.”
“...Maybe so.”
Things like eternity and infinity would have no value without immutability. Yachi had to be something like that, too. Her eyes contained something far beyond Earth’s limits—something unending, perhaps—and I’d seen their beauty for myself.
“Some things do change, however.”
“Like what?”
“I have now learned the taste of your cooking, and that means I have grown as well.” She stabbed her fork into her half-eaten potato, lifted it up, and wiggled it smugly.
“...I see. That’s a big step for you.”
Perhaps these discoveries were why Yachi kept coming home to us. Now and then, I could almost talk myself into believing that.
“As I understand it, you will one day discover something much bigger, Little.”
“I think you mentioned that before. What the heck are you talking about?”
“Ho ho ho! Do not fret over it for now. More importantly, what will you make next?”
Apparently, her tummy still wanted more yummies. For a moment, I wordlessly stroked her hair.
“Let’s see...”
Then I glimpsed a vision of a snack in her galactic eyes. After I recovered from the surprise, I laughed.
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
The Alien and Her Ukelele
The Alien and Her Ukelele
I PRETENDED NOTto see it, since no one else in the family seemed all that alarmed, but I confess, it freaked me out to see her floating around the house. It felt a bit too simple to leap to the conclusion that she must be an alien, but on the other hand...the truth was floating right in front of my face. And glowing.
If only everyone else would act a bit more startled, I could really flip my lid. In the meantime, we all carried on living under the same roof.
It was my little sloth of a daughter who’d first brought the alien home with her. In a sense, perhaps she was the more fantastical creature. Time passed, until eventually, that daughter left the nest—and yet for some reason, the alien remained. Now here she was, watching TV with me. Today she was dressed like a capybara. Quite fitting.
Man, she really is an alien, huh? An alien... AN ALIEN?
“Hmmm...”
“Mmm?”
I never thought I’d encounter one in my lifetime. Hell, I wasn’t sure they were out there to begin with. But over time I had acclimated to my reality—to the extraterrestrial being in my living room. That said, I wouldn’t have expected her to take the form of a glowing blue-haired girl... When I thought of aliens, I was convinced they had to have tentacles, so it was strange to me that she didn’t.
And yet if one thing was certain, it was that this girl’s presence meant the world to my youngest, who was miserable without her beloved big sister around. The two of them were close, after all. But I could tell that the kid’s innocence had helped to alleviate some of that. Possibly it was a conscious choice on her part, seeing as she had been following my youngest around like a shadow ever since Hougetsu moved out.
Perhaps aliens were equipped with the ability to understand the human heart...or perhaps she didn’t think about it that deeply at all.
“Hmmm... Hard to say...”
“It is a mystery.”
As her cheek stretched sideways, her blue hair scattered motes of light. Given all she had done for my daughters, perhaps it would be wrong of me not to thank her in some way... Besides, who else on Earth would have the opportunity to repay an alien’s kindness? My heart fluttered at the thought.
“I’d like to give you a token of gratitude. Are you free at the moment?”
“Heh heh heh! Surprisingly, yes.”
“Lucky me,” I replied, and stretched her cheek a little wider.
Thus did the two of us set off toward the toy store—one that potentially no longer existed, since I hadn’t bothered to look it up online to check. Its exterior was fashioned after a castle, and I hadn’t been inside since my eldest was in single digits. Fortunately, we found it intact, though the chalky white walls of the parking lot had turned a grimy gray. Regardless, it always warmed my heart to learn that a piece of my past had survived into the present.
“Is there a specific toy you want?”
“Yaaay!”
Knowing her love of food, I considered buying her a snack, but perhaps something more permanent would make for a nice change. Watching the capybara saunter around the store interior, I was reminded not of my youngest, who was a quiet and well-behaved child, but Hougetsu, who’d spent her early years running with her arms spread wide as if to savor the whole world at once. Now I understood why my wife liked to take this one to the grocery store with her.
“Pick out whatever you like.”
“In that case, I should like to have this.”
Standing on tiptoe, the girl picked up a small, child-sized ukulele. Nice. It looked vaguely fitting in a capybara’s hands, so I agreed readily.
“Thank you very much. It is fun to produce sounds.”
“Ha ha ha! No trouble at all.”
“Is there something you would like me to do in return?” she asked. She was so giddy that she was practically skipping home, her new ukulele slung over her shoulder.
“Something in return, huh...”
I tried to think of something special she had done for us over the years, but nothing came to mind...so instead, I entrusted her with my greatest wish as a father:
“In that case, I should like you to continue to be a good friend to my daughters.”
Oops. That came out sounding like her.
“Of course I shall.” She nodded without missing a beat, then chuckled. “Everyone in the Shimamura family is of the same mild flavor, it seems.”
“Mild flavor?” I repeated.
“Ho ho ho! A good flavor at that.”
I didn’t understand the metaphor. Apparently, it was a compliment. We had mild curry for lunch earlier, but that probably wasn’t related. Probably.
“Oh, and if possible, I hope you’ll be friends with me and my wife, too.”
“We are besties,” the capybara declared, patting her belly.
Nice.
As much as I wished I could brag about my interstellar friendship, sadly, there was no one I could tell.
So began the tale of the alien and her ukulele...
Or maybe not.
Overture
Overture
IN THE DISTANCE, a steam whistle sounded, warning us that the next departure was imminent. Had we spent too much time shopping? She and I exchanged a look, then took off running down the gently sloping hill.
My limbs felt light, as though they weren’t my own. The thrill of travel in full effect, perhaps. Our thunderous footsteps weaved in and out of sync; I wanted to hold hands, but unfortunately, they were laden with shopping bags, so it would have to wait until we were back on deck. The foreign scenery bounced up and down with each step, like something out of a dream.
The streets and buildings were tinged yellow, baking in the afternoon sun, and the smell of sand was nothing like home.
“We’ve come pretty far, huh?” I remarked as we ran.
“We really have,” she replied, looking up at the sky—deep blue with hazy clouds and well-suited to silent contemplation. “But we’re just getting started.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where should we go next?”
“Wherever I can be happy with you, .”
“So...anywhere?”
Her boundless smile and pearly whites made my cheeks twitch. “Yeah.”
To avoid incurring the ire of the cruise staff waiting for departure, we picked up speed—but in my eagerness to hold her hand, I was a tiny bit faster.
***
The realization that it was summer came in through my ears with the screech of the cicadas.
A light blanket lay in a heap beside the bed, indicating I had kicked it off in my sleep. Combing the hair and sweat out of my face, I let out a breath and felt my shoulders sink deeper into the mattress. While my mind was slowly stirring, however, my body lacked the energy to rise. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to make myself sick, so perhaps it was one of those nasty summer colds I’d heard about.
Outside, the sun was already high in the sky, its light reflecting off the metal siding on the house next to us and in through my thin bedroom curtain. Annoyed, I held up a hand to block it. But I couldn’t lie here forever. Somewhere in my brain, I was aware that it was a weekday.
I looked to my side, but naturally, no one was there. For some reason, that “natural” confirmation felt like a punch to the gut.
Forcing myself onto my feet, I slipped out of my room and headed into the kitchen. There, I took a bottle of water from the fridge, poured a cup, and took a sip, which helped to clear away some of the lethargy. Maybe I was just dehydrated. Once I felt normal again, the seeping sound of the cicadas grew clearer, sliding down over my hair. I shook it away, then returned my cup to the sink.
Why did I have three cups, anyway? Something about it dug into me, like static stabbing behind my ears. For a moment, there came a flash of scenery from somewhere else, but it soon flowed out of sight. I pressed my fingers against my closed eyes; the next time I opened them, my house was back to normal. Brushing away the detritus from the backs of my ears, I closed the fridge and let out a sigh that threatened to summon the fatigue all over again.
Over time, I could feel my body and mood growing heavy. Something was weighing on me, and it wasn’t just the summer heat. I glanced at the empty sofa, but I knew if I sat down, I was unlikely to get back up. Yet the longer I looked at it, the more I could feel something in my chest slowly rising.
Gradually, it took the form of a silhouette.
I sucked in a breath. Something shot to the depths of my chest, piercing straight through without stopping—I could hear the whoosh of air.
After the silhouette on the sofa vanished, I shook my head. I didn’t have time to stare around the room...or at least, I didn’t think I did. My desire to leave took precedence.
Unable to shake off the mysterious sluggishness, I carried it to the front door with me. I had gotten plenty of sleep, so it wasn’t that. A general malaise, if I had to guess.
After I pulled my shoes on, I glanced over my shoulder and down the hallway, as though for some reason I expected someone to appear.
As if to flip off a light switch, I closed my eyes for a moment, then left the house.
***
“Okay, then, which of these do you like more?”
“Ummm...this one,” I replied, choosing the lightly sweetened bun.
“I see.” Tearing off a piece, she popped it into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Mmm.”
Down the hill from our hotel, we had found a bakery partway down a side street, filled with delicious and familiar smells. I vaguely remembered going to a place like this on our last trip, though our destination had been completely different then. Customers were allowed to eat at the tables outside, so we ate our breakfast right there in the sunshine.
“So you like the cheesy type, huh? Is that what makes it a bit sweet? The cream cheese?”
“It has fruit flavoring.”
Lately she had been inquiring an awful lot about my tastes—making me try two different things, then asking which was better. My lack of interest in food was no secret, but since she wanted to know, I made an effort to give her a serious answer each time.
“I just want to understand your preferences, ,” she explained, framed neatly by the faded color of the wall behind her as she answered the question that had arisen in my eyes. “That way I’ll have an easier time making you happy.”
It was the sort of romantic motive that her teenage self would never have admitted to—a wish polished so smooth that I trembled at its touch.
“This trip is about seeing new sights, and with it, new sides of you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
With a carefree grin, she held up two fingers and wiggled them. Above us, the morning sun broke through its lampshade of clouds, seeping into her affection. Indeed, she had warmed so much compared to those days long past—or, more accurately, she had stopped trying to hide it. Likewise, I no longer had anything to hide from her, either; at this point, I could wholeheartedly trust her with anything.
For the longest time, I’d considered myself someone who would have no interest in this world beyond her for the rest of my life...but she wanted to learn more about me, and I was open to that. I wanted to watch our love deepen—to watch her delight in the things I enjoyed.
***
Outside, each chirp was as shrill as the twist of a rusty metal faucet handle. It was coming from somewhere up high—the neighbor’s roof, perhaps. As if yanked upward, I pressed my palms to the mattress and pushed myself upright; then, when I saw that the walls and ceiling were the same as before, I flopped back down.
Getting up wouldn’t change anything. Almost like that immutability was the entire purpose of this space.
I wasn’t sleepy—I just couldn’t be bothered. The energy seeped from my body like jelly through cheesecloth. I didn’t know what was eating away at my vitality, but I lacked even the strength to examine the question. With the way I was feeling, it was entirely possible that I would lie here for the rest of eternity. Sometimes I could hallucinate that it was blood leaking from my palms.
Why get up if there was nothing to do?
Whenever I tried to leave the house, the next thing I knew, I would end up back in this room. I couldn’t remember exactly how many attempts I’d made, but in a blink, the seasons had changed, and summer had slipped away with the cicadas. I wasn’t stuck in a time loop (most likely), but there was unmistakably something strange going on. While I didn’t have the details, it seemed I was no longer my normal self.
If only I could get my normalcy back... It felt like I was gazing distantly at my lost happiness from behind insurmountable walls, unsure of how to reach it. I knew I needed to go somewhere but couldn’t remember where. Or...maybe I didn’t actually need to go anywhere at all? When I stopped to consider this, I was confronted with an empty square where my memories had been surgically removed, preventing further thought.
The feeling was an uneasy one. I was incomplete. Something told me I was so weak, a sufficiently strong breeze could blow me away, and I’d never find my way back again. It wasn’t that this place was holding me prisoner, but rather, I was clinging to it of my own will. At least, that was how it felt.
What had happened to me? This seemed like the same old house I was accustomed to, but something was missing...and I was convinced that whatever it was, it was keeping me warm regardless of the season. But I couldn’t remember what it was, and I couldn’t even tell if something in this house was connected to it. All I knew was that whenever I tried, it filled my heart with desolation.
After an immeasurable length of time spent lying in bed, a forlorn feeling pushed me upright. The air had taken on a tinge of winter, but traces of autumn still remained. Walking across the now-icy floor, I passed through the living room. Along the way, I shot hopeful glances at the sofa and kitchen but was met with only shadow. No memories replayed for me.
Still, I was sure that something used to be here, and now it wasn’t. That absence was incredibly painful, and yet somehow also a relief—a type of loneliness I had never known. Carrying that strange, stinging sentimentality like a cold metal pipe in my hands, I went to the front door.
Barefoot, I walked up and reached straight for the knob. And for the umpteenth time, knowing full well I couldn’t actually go anywhere, I nevertheless opened the door.
***
“Where would you want to go: north or south?” she asked, about a week after we’d come home from our trip, holding the travel magazine we’d read together.
“Wherever I can find you, .”
“I’m right here on your left.”
I shot a glance at her next to me on the sofa, then paused to think. “Well, you tend to get cold easily, so maybe the south.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Incidentally, we had already traveled south before, but I wasn’t opposed to another visit. It would deepen the mark those events and experiences had left on my memories.
She said she liked the feel of the airport right before a departure, but she didn’t seem as keen on it upon our return. Still, I could somewhat understand it.
“We’ll have to save up money for another trip.”
“Then we’d better watch our spending. But it’s actually kinda fun to save money when there’s a reason we’re saving it, y’know?”
“Yeah.” This, too, was a feeling I could relate to. The more time we spent together, the more of them I encountered—and lately, my favorite pastime was to line them up and admire them, like pretty painted stones on a shelf.
***
It felt as though I was just having a conversation somewhere else...as though, for the briefest of moments, the life I had come to expect had returned, bringing me home to someone. That person thanked me, and I felt something warm there—something I needed to remember.
I tried to stay in that feeling, chasing after the fading ripple, but all that remained was this deeply lonely reality. There were no birds chirping. Just gloomy silence, piling up like snow.
Evidently, it was winter now; as I lay in bed without a blanket, I felt my limbs begin to freeze. In search of something warm to wrap around myself, I slid my body off the edge and down onto the floor. It was even colder now, to the point that I feared my bare skin might stick to it.
Crouching with my arms wrapped tightly around my body, I felt more certain than ever that I had lost something—both from within myself and from somewhere nearby. As I let out a breath, I felt something spill forth from deep inside, as though a piece of my guts had come free.
I was pretty sure this all started in summer, which would mean a great deal of time had passed.
Now that it was winter, the feeling of loss had intensified. The cold was adding to my misery, and I doubted huddling in one place would help me endure it. In fact, if this season didn’t end, I suspected I would be forced to leave.
There was no eternity here. My time was finite, and I could feel something closing in...but I was too cold to move.
More time passed—not sure how much—until at last, I felt my arms tremble, like they were defrosting. And in place of the empty ringing in my ears, there came a sound: the nursery song that played at a set time at the local park to encourage children to head home. The exact time shifted over the seasons, depending on when the sun was expected to set, and in winter, it played as early as 4 p.m.
Is it four o’clock now? I wondered as the melody of a string instrument drifted in through the window. Unlike the usual prerecorded broadcast, however, it sounded as though it was being played live. Yes, someone was playing an instrument—which meant another person was out there. Someone other than myself. I never craved the company of people, but my head tilted slightly in the direction of the window.
My grip on my arms tightened as I realized I recognized it. At some point, I had heard the same instrument here before, and during the performance, I had talked about the song with someone else. The memory rolled around like a single marble in the back of my mind.
“Weird how this song makes you long for home, isn’t it? I didn’t actually grow up hearing it as a kid.”
“Well, I didn’t play outside much, so...I have no real strong feelings toward it.”
“You know what’s funny? I always associate it with sunset for some reason.”
“Um...because of the lyrics?”
“Oh, you’re right. Duh. Turns out, the answer was right in front of me all along.”“But yeah...I definitely associate it with sunsets.”
“As much as I like it, it’s kind of a sad song.”
“Why? Is it sad to go home?”
“Hmm...I guess not, if you have someone to hold hands with along the way.”
“Okay, then...gimme.”
“Ha ha! How are we supposed to ‘go home’ from here?”
“Uhhh...we could scoot a little closer, or something?”
After all, we were already home.
Finally, I remembered. The voice, the face, the smile, the love, the shape, the tears...it all came gushing forth like a spring. I was missing something important—something irreplaceable.
Tears flowed from my eyes until my head ached. This wasn’t truly where I belonged, but a mere facsimile.
“I need to get home.”
I rose to my feet. I no longer had time to waste complaining of lethargy. I belonged at her side.
At last, I could remember it all as clear as day. My home. My life. My fulfillment. And the girl who, to me, was all these things and more. How could I forget her? That was what made the end absolute, impossible to subvert, hard and heavy.
But with a tiny bit of help, I had remembered, and now I was grateful to have lived. Grateful to have made so many memories. Grateful to have spent all that time with her to create them in the first place.
Would I be able to get back to her? Was I...allowed to?
I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I wanted to see her.
There was a pair of shoes waiting neatly for me, as if someone had set them out; I pulled them on and left the house. This time, instead of ending up back in the bedroom, I stepped into snow, burying my feet up to the ankles. The cold set in so quickly, I could practically feel it inside my mouth.
Outside the apartment, I had expected a hallway but instead stepped out onto a snow-covered street. Everything was buried in white to the point that I had no clue which direction I was headed, but nevertheless, I kept walking, following the music. As I approached, it steadily grew louder and louder, swelling like a balloon, until at last, it burst and was no more. In the silence that followed, the snow suddenly took on a hint of color, morphing into fluttering petals. Then the air changed from stinging chill to soft and warm.
The snow had vanished, revealing a park—a small one I recognized. Apparently, I had been walking along the nearby trail. The trees were flowering, hanging over the benches like pink roofs; the petals rained endlessly, gently descending onto my head and shoulders.
Then I remembered the name of the flowers—the gift my parents had given to me—the one thing I carried with me from beginning to end.
The sakura were in full bloom.
From the Creators
From the Creators
Story
Hitoma Iruma
My favorite neighbor is finally back in town after spending the past month abroad, sightseeing and attending the Olympic Games in Paris. Their safe return has been something of a relief to me... Plus, they gave me Maison Kayser macarons as a souvenir, which were absolutely delicious.
Illustration
raemz
An American from the state of California.