Adachi to Shimamura - Volume 11 - Chapter 4.2

When I arrived at the basketball court early the next morning, a certain someone else had beaten me there. Almost as if we had both wanted a “next time.”

Not me, I growled at myself silently. I just so happened to wake up unusually early, and everyone else in the house was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake them by being loud, so I left the house with my basketball and decided to go find a place to use it. For the second day in a row.

“Oh…”

When she turned, and I came face to face with that refreshing smile, it felt as though the boiling summer heat flickered off for a moment. She was a cool person in more ways than one. Airy, you could say. Or perhaps simply full of holes.

And so the kimono lady, whose name I had yet to learn, walked over carrying a basketball of her very own. “Check it out! I bought it yesterday!”

“I didn’t ask.” She was so aggressively friendly, it put me on guard instead.

“I’m going to get a great workout from the elbows up!”

What about the rest? I thought, scanning up her body from her feet to her shoulders. Ah. Never mind. “You could exercise in different clothes, you know.”

“Nothing I can do about my clothes, sadly. Circumstances beyond my control,” she explained, pinching her sleeve. “I’m obligated to come here dressed like this. Not that I mind formal wear, but…I’d prefer something with fewer layers, like a yukata.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway, good morning,” she continued warmly, seemingly unbothered by my disinterest. 

“…Good morning.” 

Other adults, like my teachers or passersby on the street—they all seemed so…you know…distant, like buildings on the horizon. They’d been around for years before me, so they were just part of the scenery, like…a permanent fixture, I guess? I couldn’t explain it. Basically, they were beyond my reach. 

But her? She was just one step ahead…like a neighbor, in a way. She was an adult who still felt real, like an evolution of the older students on the basketball team. 

“Now, then, teach me how to shoot hoops.”

Grinning brightly, she held up her ball like a trophy. She switched from grown-up to child so easily, it drew my attention like a magnet. Whether she was merely expressive or outright emotionally unstable, I couldn’t decide. 

“Not sure I have much to teach. I just kinda throw it.”

“Okay, then, maybe I’ll start by watching you throw.” 

She gracefully stepped back, gesturing for me to take the stage. I never agreed to teach her in the first place, yet I found myself walking forward, gazing up at the hoop. The more I told myself to play like normal, however, the more it slipped away from me. Biting back the urge to scream in frustration, I jumped into the air and took the shot. 

Before my stiff arms could extend all the way, the ball left my grip, unsurprisingly missing the hoop and hitting the backboard. Great, I have to fetch it too? I grumbled silently as I ran after it. 

“It seems the key is to keep your elbows high and your feet shoulder-width apart.”

That’s what she was watching? For some reason, picturing her gaze made me feel weird. When I returned with my ball, she grinned in greeting, holding hers at the ready.

“Anything else I should know, Sensei?”

This term of address tickled my side, and I rubbed the itchy spot with the heel of my hand. “The only other thing I can think of is…try to visualize a metal pole running down the center of your body. It makes it easier to jump. For me, anyway.”

The goal was to keep that metal pole straight when you jumped. Any deviation and you’d lose strength in your arms—like what happened to me just now. 

“You got it, Sensei.”

“I’m not your sensei.”

“Roger that, junior high schooler!” 

I get the feeling you were way too eager to switch to that.

Kimono Lady widened her stance, revealing her zouri sandals—the world’s least-athletic footwear. But with a basketball at the ready, she did at least look cool. I found myself captivated by the porcelain elbows that peeked out as her sleeves fell. Even without touching it, her skin looked smooth and faintly cold. 

Then those elbows bent to form a crease, and the ball went flying. 

Its trajectory had improved since yesterday, but it hit the front of the hoop and bounced off with a clang. As her hair and sleeves billowed in midair, that floral scent washed over me in full force, nearly making me choke. 

“I hit the hoop!” she exclaimed.

“Uh, yep,” I replied somewhat meekly, overpowered by her sheer glee. 

She ran off, arms swinging, to fetch her ball—so rambunctious, so dynamic, it caught me off guard. Once she retrieved it, she walked it over to the bench and set it down like she was scoring a try in rugby. Swinging her legs wide, she plopped down next to it. 

“Why don’t we chat for a bit?”

“Chat…about what?”

“If you don’t have any ideas, I’ll think of something.” 

I’m so cool, she mouthed to herself playfully. At her prompting, I walked up next to her holding my basketball. But I didn’t want to sit on that nasty bench, so instead I walked in slow laps around her, orbiting her like a moon. 

“Okay, well, let me ask you this. Why’d you start talking to me?” I asked.

“Hm? When I talk to a girl, I never have much motive outside of the ulterior,” she declared loftily, scraping the edge of her sandal against the ground.

“Ulterior…?”

“But you have no ulterior motive whatsoever. Innocence personified.”

“Uhhh… Either this conversation is too stupid for me, or I’m too stupid for this conversation.” I genuinely couldn’t decide. Meanwhile, Kimono Lady gobbled up my confusion like it was her favorite dessert. 

“Well, the thing about me is: I love high school girls. Nice to meet you.” 

She placed a hand to her chest and introduced herself in the same tone you’d use to offer a business card. The only aspect that wasn’t professional was her word choice.

“You love high school girls?” I repeated.

“Yes, and I have absolutely no interest in anyone younger. It’s the way I’m wired, and it’s not changing anytime soon.”

Why was she acting so proud about this? A stunning beauty…who loved teenage girls…who wore a kimono…who smelled of flowers…whose voice was soft…whose everything was soft… There was so much going on with her, I couldn’t keep it straight. 

“There’s something special about girls in high school. You’ll understand what I mean when you get there next year.”

“No, I don’t think I will…” 

As for what exactly she meant by loving high school girls, I could hazard a guess, but I couldn’t relate. Would my peers suddenly seem “magical” to me the moment I set foot on that campus? Fat chance.

Granted, I was the kind of girl who preferred to fill the gaps in my knowledge. But in this case, I didn’t dare ask her to clarify, lest I take a wrong step somewhere. For that matter, was this really something she should be shouting from the rooftops? Did she have no grasp of common sense? 

“Uhhh, okay, so that’s…your type, I guess…?”

I had no clue how to phrase it. At face value, “loving high school girls” had dangerous connotations. Or was I just closed-minded? I wasn’t trying to judge her…but then again, maybe I was right to.

“That’s right! High school girls are my field of expertise.”

“Hm.” Apparently, there was an entire field. My brain was more than happy to note down this new information that I would most likely never use for the rest of my life. 

“But apart from that, there’s something about talking to girls that makes me feel complete, you know?” 

She looked at me for confirmation, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to that, and my gaze wandered. If only each person came with a basketball hoop. Maybe then I wouldn’t struggle so hard trying to figure out how to score points that I inevitably flopped down on the floor in defeat. 

“You’re a cute girl. I’m sure you’ll attract lots of people and attention in the coming years. Maybe one of those people will be me! But your life will get a lot easier once you figure out how to absorb the nutrients you need from them. In that sense, I don’t limit myself strictly to high schoolers.”

All I knew for certain was that she really wasn’t supposed to say that last part with her eyes sparkling wistfully. More importantly, however—she just offhandedly called me cute. That was the deepest cut. I could almost feel a phantom breeze against my cheek, and it set me on edge.

“From here, the goal seems so high above us, doesn’t it? So far away…” 

She pressed a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun. I followed her gaze, mildly surprised to learn that someone taller than me would feel the same way I did. 

“But hey, that’s what makes it a worthy ambition to pursue. Now, then!”

She pushed herself up off the bench and grabbed her ball. Then she turned—not to the hoop, but to the city—and I realized she was leaving. Already? I thought, followed by confusion at myself that rendered me speechless. Where had that come from? 

Meanwhile, Kimono Lady crossed her arms with a grin and a sidelong glance, as if she could see right through me. “I’m just glad I got to see you.”

“What…? What?”

“Exactly the reaction I was hoping to get.” I could see her smiling, but I couldn’t picture what my own face must have looked like. “I’ll be sure to practice on my own, so let’s have a competition sometime soon.”

“A competition?” I repeated.

“What’s it called again? Free throws? Something like that. I’ll see you again.” 

She didn’t waste much time saying goodbye. Reeling from the thud of her dribbling ball, I stood there in a daze and watched her cheerfully stroll away. Had you told me it was all a dream, I would have believed you. Every inch of her was just so otherworldly. 

“…Again…?” 

Part of me was skeptical, but it was hard to discount the fact that it had already happened twice. If I showed up here tomorrow, could I see her again? She was so kind—even to a complete stranger. What emotions shaped that kindness? Part of me wanted to investigate the source, but I was afraid the abyss would gaze back at me. Curiosity and fear passed the ball back and forth over my head.

I could feel something building at the joints of my fingers, and I didn’t like it. 

***

The next day, I woke late in the morning. I checked the clock near my pillow, rolled over…then bolted upright. By most people’s standards, I’d woken at a normal time. But my mind was wide awake as if I’d never drifted off at all, which was actually kind of frightening.

What reason did I have to panic?

Gazing up at the bright light visible through the curtains, I concluded that she probably wouldn’t be there if I left now—and immediately afterward, I was overcome with a surprisingly intense feeling of guilt, or perhaps unease. Cursing myself, I hugged my arms to my chest and curled into a ball.

I know what’ll happen if I get attached.

I could see it. I could remember. I closed my eyes.

Starting tomorrow, I’m quitting.

“I said I was quitting, but here I am, wide awake.” 

Every summer vacation in elementary school, I would happily sleep in until my mother came to wake me—but now that I was in junior high, the heat seemed to cook me alive. No wonder I was overly sensitive all the time. My skin was raw. 

As if to make up for yesterday’s failure, I stirred from shallow slumber at the very cusp of a quiet night’s end, as if my consciousness was in a race to beat the dawn. Don’t, I told myself, pressing a hand to my head. I said I’m quitting, remember? I flopped back onto the futon and closed my eyes, determined to sleep until the cicadas chirped. But my eyes felt abnormally heavy behind my eyelids, demanding to be freed with a persistence slightly different from genuine wakefulness. 

She was a stranger I had only met twice—the sort of grown woman who, I suspected, would remain an enigma no matter how many conversations we were to have. And it wasn’t just the kimono. Her scent seemed to travel up my nose and fill my brain. 

Part of me was resistant to the concept of going to see her every day. But what was I so opposed to? There was a distinct feeling of contempt that I just couldn’t identify. I skimmed the surface again and again, taking shots in the dark, but all I got in return was frustration. I was agonizing so hard, my body threatened to break out into a sweat. Deprived of relief, I scratched at my head with my eyes closed. Every dry strand of hair was like piano wire, slicing at my fingertips. 

Normally, my mind was hung up on very different, more depressing things, but now I found myself thinking nonstop about this kimono woman. Ugh. Emotions lapped at my inner cheeks once again, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Add in the humidity of early morning, and I was drowning in a misery for which there was likely only one escape: to go see her. Just a little to take the edge off.

God, I sound like a drug addict, I thought, chuckling softly. My eyes drifted open a crack…and the next thing I knew, I nearly jumped out of my skin. On the futon next to mine, my little sister was staring at me, wide awake.

“Huh…? Oh, did I wake you?” 

Now that she was in elementary school, she had started sleeping on her own separate futon…mostly. Every now and then, she’d crawl under my blanket. Tonight she hadn’t, but in exchange, her little eyes were boring holes in me.

“Oneechan, are you going somewhere?”

“Huh?”

“You always go somewhere in the morning.”

I was mildly surprised that she’d noticed. “Oh, I just…go for a walk, that’s all.”

“Then I wanna go with you.”

“What?”

“I’m going, too!”

“Listen—”

“What’s the harm? Spend some time with her for a change.”

The sudden voice in the dark hallway nearly made my heart stop. Then the door opened, revealing my mother standing there with her arms folded.

“I was just leaving the bathroom when I heard voices, so I thought I’d eavesdrop.”

“Gee, thanks…” 

“So, where exactly has my dear daughter been going this early in the morning? Is it a man? A rendezvous with a booooyfriend?”

“Don’t be stupid.” I turned away and closed my eyes to stop them from rolling.

“Were you just about to roll your eyes at me, young lady?”

“Shut up.”

“Hmph. Everyone can see right through you, y’know.” She laughed like it didn’t even faze her—but what irritated me most was the way she prodded at my sides. “Sheesh! You used to be such a cute kid, and now look at you.”

“Oh, I see. So I’m not cute anymore?”

“Nope! That’s one ugly mug.” 

It was so frank and direct, I was rendered speechless. The blood in my face rushed and drained like the tide, and the temperature change made me shiver. 

“Ooh, but you are kinda cute when you’re mad.”

The veins in my wrists boiled and frothed until my fingers twitched. “Just shut up already,” I grumbled, biting back an expletive. 

I really, truly struggled to suppress the impulse to flip out. Staying calm drained my energy to the point that I felt like passing out on the spot. The whole world was so infuriating, I wanted to scream and claw at my face and scream some more. The only reason I didn’t was because my little sister was there beside me.

With fire still churning in my gut, I ignored my mother and headed for the front door. I didn’t want to go, but I wanted to stay here even less. My little sister toddled after me, and I didn’t have the energy to convince her not to come, so I retrieved her shoes from the rack along with my own.

“Safe travels!”

“…Khh…” All that left my lips was a tiny half-formed word, like a shred of cabbage. 

With my baby sister in tow, I stepped out into a quiet town yet to wake. Now and then I felt my sister’s hand squirm in my grasp, tickling my palm. 

“It’s gonna be a long walk, just so you know.”

“I like walking.”

“…Okay.” The fact that I had the good sense not to lash out at her was proof, I hoped, that I was a good sister.

And so we walked the same path I always took, except a lot slower. Around the time my palm started to sweat against hers, we arrived at the spiral bridge—and I summoned the resolve to cross a different sort of bridge if a certain someone happened to be there. 

At the bottom, shrouded in the last vestiges of night’s shadow, the basketball court and bench…were both deserted. The contents of my heart spilled out into my chest, and now I didn’t know where I was supposed to put the empty box. 

“So you were playing basketball!” 

I walked her over to the hoop, where she hopped up and down like she was trying to reach it. Her ponytail bounced with the motions, and I felt my hardening anger begin to crumble at the surface. What kind of game could we possibly play with just two of us and a basketball? Even I wasn’t so self-centered as to trounce my baby sister in a serious competition.

“…Hmm.” I lifted her into the air.

“Wheeeee!”

Once she was at the right height, I put the ball into her tiny little hands. “Can you bounce it?”

“Ooh, okay!” 

At my prompting, she threw the ball to the ground, and when it bounced back up, I guided it back into her hands. Each time she slapped it down, it shot up a lot higher than I was expecting, and I realized I had been underestimating her strength. And so we chased after the ball while I helped her dribble. 

The weight in my arms helped drive home what I had witnessed in her bounces: she was getting bigger. In the beginning I carried her all over the court, but over time I started to lose my breath. Since no one else was around, I panted and wheezed without restraint—that is, until I suddenly felt a gaze during our game. I looked over my shoulder, ignoring the sweat that rolled from my forehead into the corners of my eyes, and saw Kimono Lady sitting on the bench, smiling cheerfully like before.

“When did you get here…?”

“Just now.” 

She rose to her feet and walked over. In my arms, my sister clung to me cautiously. The footsteps, slightly different from the sound of shoes, made a beeline straight for us. 

“Good morning. Is this your…sister?” Kimono Lady smiled down at her as she shyly shrank into herself. “Just old enough to be at her maximum cuteness, I see.”

“Oneechan, who is she?” my sister asked in a tiny voice. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of an answer to that myself. “She’s…my friend,” I replied, choosing a simple lie over the complicated truth.

“Your big sister is teaching me how to play basketball,” Kimono Lady chimed in, crouching down to my sister’s eye level. “I don’t have any candy for you, but you can have this if you like.” She pulled a pouch from her kimono sleeve and held it out.

“What’s that?”

“Mung beans. I feed them to the pigeons.”

“…Is that really all you have?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” It was a jovial laugh, the sound bouncing high overhead.

“But there’s no pigeons here…” My sister glanced all around the court.

“If you choose to feed them, they’ll come back. It’s not a choice to make lightly.”

Then why did you give her the bag? She clutched it in her little hands, looking confused.

“See, whenever there are no pigeons around, I do this.”

She untied the pouch strings, grabbed a dried bean, and put it in her mouth. A pleasant crunch rang out from behind her lips. My sister stared in wide-eyed shock, then followed suit by putting a bean in her own mouth.

“Hey, hey, don’t eat that!”

“Relax. It won’t hurt her.” Kimono Lady, or should I say Pigeon Lady, swallowed her bean without batting a lash. 

Meanwhile, my sister started out chomping with gusto but gradually began to grimace. “It doesn’t taste like anything!” 

“I know, right?” Kimono Lady smiled with delight, took a second bean, and popped it into her mouth. “Want one?” she offered to me, the one person who wasn’t eating.

“No, thank you.”

“Okey doke.” She nodded so vapidly; it was obvious she would have responded this way regardless of what I said.

“Something smells like flowers.” As my sister wiggled her cute little nose, Kimono Lady leaned in close; my sister’s shoulders flinched in alarm, but then she detected the source of the scent. “Flower lady!” she exclaimed, pointing at the older woman.

“Ooh, I like that,” Kimono Lady beamed, looking genuinely thrilled. “I wish I had a flower on hand for this occasion, but this is all I have…”

“You have more?!”

When she produced a second bag of beans, a dopey smile spread across my sister’s face. Evidently, the joke landed with her. “Bean lady!”

“Hmmm… I think I prefer ‘flower lady.’ Can we go back to that one?” Kimono Lady pressed her palms together, beseeching my sister, who was still grinning from ear to ear. I never imagined anyone could break the ice with her—especially this quickly. Maybe it was the inner child she let show through her classy exterior. 

Well, since she’s here, I may as well ask. 

“Hey, could you watch my sister for a bit?” My arms were tired, and I couldn’t get any practice in if I was holding her the whole time. But when she heard this, Kimono Lady’s tone hardened.

“Absolutely not! What are you thinking?” She put a chiding hand on her hip. “You can’t trust someone you just met with your little sister, no matter how nice they may appear to be.”

“Rrgh…”

Her argument was further bolstered by how quickly she switched back to the polished persona I was used to. “Listen here—you mustn’t be so quick to trust people. If you truly care for your sister, then you must keep her close and protect her yourself. The thing about predators is that they disguise their true nature around their prey.”

“…Are you saying you’re a predator?”

“Hmmm…” Her gaze wandered as she wrestled with what was apparently a difficult question. “Well, we all have our moments, don’t we?”

“Most people don’t! Ever!” Not to suggest this woman was anything resembling most people.

“Enough about me! My point is you shouldn’t take your sister for granted… Well, not that I’d ever take that advice.”

“You have a sister?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

With a flippant tilt of her head, her eyes locked onto the sky, her lips twisted in a crescent moon smile. What was that about? Still, she had a point, and oddly enough, I didn’t feel like fighting her on it—possibly because it didn’t sound like she was attacking me. But without any protruding thorns, I couldn’t grasp much else.

“Let’s just say that if I did have one, I’d be more inclined to treasure her now. All thanks to you.”

“What?” But I didn’t do anything. 

“Seeing you taking such good care of yours has changed my mind.”

I looked down at the girl in my arms. Yes, I supposed it did look as though I was taking good care of her; my heart wasn’t so complex that I could pretend not to see it for myself. On the contrary, everything about me was painfully straightforward.

“Well, there you have it. Now be a good girl and play with your sister.” Smiling softly, Kimono Lady stooped to make eye contact with the girl in question. “You want to play with your oneechan, don’t you?”

“…Yeah…” 

With this confirmation, Kimono Lady beamed up at me, flashing her pearly whites. “That said, I’d be bored just sitting on the bench alone, so I’m willing to compromise!”

“How?”

“By joining you, of course!” 

She and my sister shared a gleeful high five. My sister, the shyest creature known to man, was having fun in a social situation? If anything, it put me more on guard. 

This woman seemed to have a knack for worming her way into people’s hearts. Through the art of misdirection, she pounced the moment your defenses were down. Most likely it was a multitude of different factors working together: her good looks, her smile, her tone, her word choice. And I suspected she could control her threat level at will.

“Now, what shall we play? As one might expect from an old-fashioned kimono lady, I’m quite good at jacks. I didn’t bring any, though.”

“What’s ‘jacks?”

“Oh god, she doesn’t know… I feel so old…” 

She extended a hand in my direction, prompting me; I stared down at her palm for a moment, then relinquished my basketball. Evidently, she hadn’t brought hers with her today. She crouched down and began to dribble at high speed, grinning at my sister like she was showing off. If this was jacks, she would have lost after the first bounce. 

Drawn in by the woman’s smug chuckling, my sister reached for the ball. Kimono Lady handed it over, then gave me a little pat on the shoulder. “Teach her how to play, Oneechan.” Waving her thoroughly battered right hand, she retreated like she was tagging out. 

“Oneechan!” my sister shouted. As a kid, I always made a beeline straight to her whenever she called for me like that. Back then, I was just so happy to be a big sister. 

“…So you dribble the ball like this… We’ll go slow at first…” 

I watched from a short distance away as she practiced dribbling the ball, just as I’d taught her. Beside me, sun and shadow stretched across the ground—the faint outline of a woman with a cheery smile—and I was easily engulfed. As I was gazing at its source, she called out to me gently: “Yeeeees?”

“…I was just thinking about how tall you are.” And looking at your legs. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I am. But you’re only in junior high, so you’re still growing.”

“Not that I have much time left before I’m in high school.”

“And that’s a good thing.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing! Ha ha ha!” She wasn’t even trying to cover up her comment. “As a third-year, you’ve retired from the team, correct?”

“Yeah.” I still had no clue how she could have guessed what year I was in.

“How did your final tournament go? Did you get closure?”

Suddenly, she was asking questions like an old relative, and I didn’t know how to react. As if, I thought, averting my gaze. “I was benched the whole time, so…it’s whatever.”

“Hmmm… Yes, perhaps you’re not the sort of student that coaches tend to like.”

I had purposely concealed that part, yet she saw through me regardless. I had to wonder if she’d only asked about my basketball team in order to arrive at this topic. “My coach has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much.”

“If I was talented, they would have put me in. End of story.”

In response to my opinion, her eyes twinkled as she smiled, as if it was all just a game to her. “You’re so young, it’s actually quite promising.”

“You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s admirable, that’s all.” The moment I showed the slightest hint of hostility, she defanged it by changing the subject. “Have you ever witnessed talent with your own eyes? Your own, or someone else’s?” 

“…I don’t know.” And perhaps that was proof that I didn’t have any myself. “What is talent, anyway?” I asked in return. She was so tall, my neck ached just looking at her.

“To me, having talent means you can do things you were never taught,” she replied without missing a beat, waving over at my sister as she started to get the hang of dribbling. “I’ve known a lot of people in my life, and this is the conclusion I’ve come to. It’s hard to explain, but…some people come into this world already having all the answers.”

“Huh…”

She didn’t sound jealous of this, either; a beat later, she raised her voice back into a playful tone. “Because of that, I often wonder if I could be considered talented myself! Ha ha ha!” Her airy laughter reverberated against my skin.

“At what?” 

“Hmm? Oh, you know. Putting girls in the m—in a good mood.”

“Uh, what…?” Weird place to stumble over her words. 

She always looked so well put together, and yet she skipped away from me like a child. Whether she was coming or going, it was always with a jaunty stride.

“Hey, wait.”

“Yes?” She stood in front of my sister with her arms stretched wide like she was playing defense. Then she turned her head to look over at me. 

“…Am I ugly?” 

I could only imagine what my face must have looked like while I asked this question. I stared down at the ground like the faint morning sun was somehow too much for me.

“You, my dear, are adorable,” she declared softly, firmly, without a hint of shame. Her words painted my cheeks like the dawn. “Why, I’ll bet you’re the third-prettiest girl in your class!”

“…Uh, wow.” Much higher than I was expecting, yet still low enough to keep me humble. 

This woman was the only person who had ever called me pretty to my face. Even my own mother, who had seen more of me than anyone else, insisted I was ugly. But if I had to choose who to believe, well…obviously, loath as I was to admit it, it would be the latter. Did that mean Kimono Lady was lying? After a moment of consideration, I realized: no. Most likely they were both right—because they each saw a different side of me. 

***

“Oneechan, carry meeeee…”

“My arms hurt.” But I did it anyway. 

On the way home, I carried my sister back up the spiral bridge, battling with the rosy morning sun, sweating bullets. Now I had an actual good reason not to take her down there. Next time I’d stick to the neighborhood park. I’m gonna take a shower ASAP, I decided as I rooted around in my pocket for my key. 

“Don’t tell Mom about that older girl, okay?” I gently warned my sister before we walked into the house.

“How come?”

“…Because she’s a secret.” 

This turn of phrase was something I’d come up with off the top of my head, but surprisingly, it captured her pretty well. When I pressed my index finger to my lips, my sister’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh.” 

Evidently, I had convinced her and thank god for that. If she let slip that I was meeting up with some strange adult woman, things would only get complicated, and I wasn’t eager to waste time fighting with my mother any more than I already did. 

“Can we play together again sometime?”

“Mmm, I’d like that.” I wasn’t sure who exactly was included in that “we,” so I answered vaguely.

The older girl—the Kimono Lady. I didn’t know her name, or where she came from. All I knew was that she was drop-dead gorgeous, as soft as my favorite blanket, and smelled so strongly of flowers that one could mistake her kimono pattern for the real thing. She was so far beyond me, it was hard to believe she lived just one step outside my world. One look at her and I felt as though I’d witnessed an elusive, beautiful butterfly. 

And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to go back. I woke up early each morning, as if to the sound of a phantom alarm clock, but when I saw my sister’s legs stirring beneath her blanket, I couldn’t bring myself to get up.

“Oneechan…?” a sleepy voice called.

“…I’m too tired today,” I lied. 

I gestured for her to go back to bed, and she slowly drifted back to sleep like whipped cream melting in the heat. I watched her go, then rolled over and closed my eyes. But no matter where I shifted, the cool side of the blanket quickly turned warm.

It felt like I was drowning, and whenever I couldn’t sleep, it was always my old friend who came to mind: Tarumi. In elementary school, it had truly felt like we’d spend the rest of our lives together. But in junior high we were assigned to different classes, and after that, we just sort of…fell out of touch. These days I could pass her in the hall and not even notice. 

One could say that was just how friendship went sometimes; what was once routine, without diligent pursuit, quickly stopped being routine at all. Hell, even with diligent pursuit it would eventually die out. Lately I’d realized there was simply nothing I could do about it. 

This included Gon, the dog that lived at my grandparents’ house in the countryside. Recently I’d witnessed him getting undeniably weaker; his energy had dulled with age to the point that he could no longer keep up with me. And ever since then, I had felt stressed, irritable, emotionally unstable. My stomach ached like it was crying nonstop.

This, in turn, reminded me of something else: a dog that had once lived at a house on the route I took to elementary school. Whenever a big group of grade-schoolers passed by, that dog would come out and sit in the front yard. All the kids would greet him, and naturally, I was one of them. But one day, he moved to a new house—a sign was posted out front, written from the perspective of the dog with a photo attached, thanking us for being such nice neighbors. At the time I was only mildly disappointed, but now I understood the truth.

So where would Gon “move away” to? I couldn’t find the answer.

Behind my eyelids, shooting stars streaked past in trails of white. And as I watched them fade, I felt my consciousness sink. 

Ah, so I’m just running from my fears, I thought. Story of my life. 

Thinking solely about the future would keep me rooted in place, so I forced myself to look at the present. 

My sister was sleeping like she was supposed to—proof that she was a good girl. I gazed at her for a long moment, wondering how deep her sleep was. When I heard her snoring, I took it as my cue to slip out from under my thin summer blanket. 

Playing outside with my sister required a lot of emotional energy; I could handle it now and then, but not every single day. Careful not to wake her, I stepped out into the hall. As I passed by my parents’ bedroom, I wondered idly if my mother was awake. Then I arrived at the front door, where I put my shoes on. 

Looking back, I realized I’d never once bothered to brush my hair prior to leaving the house, and only now was I belatedly embarrassed about it.

The last time I went to the spiral bridge was five days ago, with my sister in tow. Five days was all it took for your best friend to turn into some girl from some other class. Likewise, perhaps Kimono Lady had stopped showing up. “Not that I care,” I muttered to myself as I ran to my destination, basketball in hand. I hadn’t done any warm-ups, so even a light run was enough to raise my core temperature. The drowsiness lifted like fog. 

This was perhaps the first time I had ever run down the spiral bridge. As I picked up speed, the buildings disappeared behind the concrete walls. The temperature must have been lower than usual, because no suffocating heat threatened to engulf me. And with my body feeling light, I could delude myself into thinking that my life was going well. 

At the bottom of the bridge, I transitioned into a jog, all the way to the basketball court. There I came to a stop, breathing hard. One glance told me no one else was here—good. I bounced my ball. Then, belatedly, I remembered to stretch. 

With my arms straight out in front of me, my elbows made a pleasant popping sound, and a groan slipped from my lips. Next, I switched to shoulder rotations. 

If no one was here, then why did I come here? To practice, obviously. That was my plan from the start. Then I met some weird lady who threw a wrench into everything, but now life was going back to normal. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Oh!”

The sudden voice made me whirl around. But I didn’t need to see who it was to know it wasn’t her.

“…Senpai…?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my kouhai!” 

It was an older girl who used to be on the basketball team, now away in high school. She was wearing a no-frills T-shirt and sandals, suggesting she was only out for a morning walk; when she spotted me, she sauntered over. I couldn’t remember when I’d last spoken to her. Had I bothered to say goodbye the day she retired from the team? 

“…Sorry, were you hoping for someone else?”

“What? No.” 

Me? Disappointed? As if.

While her clothes were nothing to write home about, her natural blonde hair was exotic and gorgeous. At our school, she couldn’t take a single step without attracting attention. This added an extra layer of difficulty during basketball games. 

“You retired from the team, right? I’m impressed you still practice,” she mused.

“It’s just a way to kill time.”

“Shouldn’t you be spending that time studying for high school entrance exams?”

“I’ll be fine.” I noticed she didn’t ask me how the final tournament went. Maybe she could read between the lines. “What about you, Senpai?”

The newly minted high schooler gazed up at the hoop, then slowly shook her head. “These days I’m not doing anything. No sports, no study group…just vibes.”

“Huh.” 

Her pale complexion was further washed out by her light hair, magnifying her aura of fragility. Unlike me, she could easily rank first or second place in beauty, and people fixated on her to an abnormal degree. But she always seemed to have her plate full, because she’d never socialize more than strictly necessary…and today, I sensed that same energy from her.

This was a reminder: when people walked out of your life, they left no trace behind. But even on the off chance you reunited, it would only end in awkwardness. Most likely this was exactly what would happen if I ever saw Tarumi again.

When the conversation petered out, Senpai took the hint and waved goodbye. “See ya.”

“Have a good life.” I didn’t realize how heartless it sounded until after I’d already said it, but she turned and walked away without taking offense. 

Looking back, her level of friendliness had suited me perfectly. Of all the older students, she was the one I’d spoken to the most; neither of us were especially amiable people, but maybe that was what made it easier to relate to each other. She would always complain to me about all the chores she had to do after practice, and I felt vaguely sorry for her without being emotionally invested. Her life sounded complicated.

I’ll probably never see her again, I thought to myself. Even though we lived in the same town, somehow that was how it went for all my ex-friends. Strange, since one would think we were all still traveling to the same places. If I had to guess, it was proof that there were more people living in this dump than I could even fathom. 

Rolling the basketball in my hands, I started walking back to the court to continue with my practice. Just then, I gasped and whirled around. A shadowy figure peeked out from behind a bridge beam, staring in my direction…and even at a distance, I recognized those olive eyes. I looked at her; she looked at me. Silence.

“…Uh, hello?”

Since she made no move to step out from behind the beam, I contemplated whether to go over there myself. Experimentally, I beckoned to her; only then did she leap out into view, as if she’d been waiting for a formal invitation. Today, instead of a layered kimono, she was wearing a thin yukata. Because of that, she appeared to move with even greater ease than usual. 

“Good morning!”

“…Morning. Why were you hiding?”

“Mmm, no real reason. I was just having fun spying.”

“Uhhh…okay.” It seemed this woman could find the fun in any circumstance. What are you, my mom?

“When I arrived, I saw you standing there all zoned out, so I thought I’d see how long it would take you to notice me. Turns out, not very.”

“…I just thought I felt someone watching me, that’s all.” I didn’t want her to think I was actively looking for her or anything. 

Evidently, she hadn’t seen me talking to Senpai, because otherwise she would have been over the moon to meet a high school girl… Out of context, she really did sound like a predator, didn’t she?

“No little sister with you today? That’s a shame.” 

She peered down at my chest like she was scanning for my sibling. Don’t you have eyes? I chuckled. “You really like her, huh?” Likewise, my sister had opened up to her quite a bit, all things considered.

“It’s not that I like her, per se. But I like seeing you be so sweet to her.” 

Her words turned to silk at the drop of a hat, and it flustered me. Not that I cared that she said she liked me.

“I noticed you haven’t been by in a while. Been sleeping in?”

“…It’s not like we made plans to meet up or anything.”

“That’s true,” she replied, in a perfectly calm and gentle voice. “Truth be told, I finished my business two days ago, but I really wanted to say goodbye, so I’ve been loitering around here every morning.” 

Somehow she seemed to add a hidden meaning to every word she said. “Goodbye…?” I muttered as I digested this information. “So you’re not coming back?”

“Right. Not for a long while, at least.”

“…Huh.”

“Gonna miss me?” 

“Nope.” But it was a bit of a stretch to insist we were still strangers.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could chat for a bit.”

“Sure, I guess…” 

Kimono Lady walked over to the bench and sat down without a second thought. She gestured for me to join her, but the visible grime kept me at bay.

“What, you don’t want to get dirty? You can sit on my lap, then.” 

She spread her arms wide, grinning from ear to ear, as she jostled her knees enticingly. She wanted me…a junior high schooler…to sit on her grown adult lap? Maybe if it was my sister, but… How would I manage to keep my balance there? 

Regardless of the logistics, I knew she was just messing with me, so I decided to see what would happen if I walked over. Her smile remained as wide as her arms. I came to a stop directly in front of her. Still smiling. I turned around and bent my knees slightly—

“No, you’re supposed to refuse!”

“You’re the one who offered.”

“I mean, yes, but…” 

Even then her smile didn’t falter, her wavering beauty provoking caution and relief in equal measure. Her expression was so flawless, surely anyone would wonder whether they were supposed to play along or not. Even I wasn’t confident that I understood fully. But one thing was for sure: I felt weird continuing to point my butt at her. Still, I’d have to overcome a lot in order to actually sit on her. I wasn’t used to making physical contact with people I wasn’t related to. 

“Ah, the mysteries of the human body…”

“What?”

“I look at your junior high butt and I feel nothing! How does the brain categorize these things, anyway?”

“How should I know?!”

“If you were in high school, my eyes would be glued to you. But for now, I have the composure to enjoy the moment.”

Wait a minute… Is she a complete and total loser? Outside of her good looks and affability, I couldn’t see any other positive traits. Maybe that was all she needed.

“Aren’t your legs getting tired, sitting on that imaginary chair?”

“Of course they are.” I must have been tensing my neck muscles, because the back of my skull felt like it had been sanded down.

“And yet you continue to choose pain. Are you a tragic heroine, perhaps?”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Yes.”

“…No one’s ever answered ‘yes’ to that before…”

For some reason, her response seeped into me at the perfect temperature—like washing my face with fresh spring water. Finally, I caved and sat down next to her on the bench. At this point, I no longer cared if my clothes got dirty. This was their purpose, I decided: to shield the body from germs.

As I sat, the bench creaked beneath my weight. Quiet, you. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, either. Scarcely different from sitting on the ground, if I had to guess. 

“Welcome.”

“What is this, your house?” I let out a weird little laugh. 

This was the closest in proximity we’d ever been. Her smile was shining just inches away. And whether it was the yukata or the close-up view, I couldn’t say for sure, but…there was something else I noticed for the first time: 

Her boobs were big.

Not that it was relevant in any way, but…once I became aware of it, I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking down and back.

“Aha! You’re looking at my boobs!”

“Excuse me?!” She was completely right, of course, and as I played dumb, my vision went utterly blank.

“Puberty will do that to you. Then again, I still like them, and puberty ended ages ago for me.”

“I don’t…get what you’re saying…” 

My panic was so visibly obvious, I wished I could throttle myself. Kimono Lady took this as her cue to thrust out her chest and give it a slap. “Not to ruin the fun of boobs, but there’s something else just as important that we need to talk about.”

“Implying boobs are important…?”

“You seem like you’re perpetually suffering,” she continued, in exactly the same tone—and I felt invisible fingers thrust straight through my ribcage. “Perpetually angry” was something I’d heard before, but no one had ever suggested I was in pain. Until now.

“I look like I’m suffering to you?”

“Very much, I’m afraid.” 

Just like that, she had identified the discomfort that gnawed at my heart. Was I really suffering? Over what? What was so painful? What was making me miserable? 

The thing I was hiding, that I pretended not to see—somehow the smile of a stranger was enough to cast a light on it. I leaned forward, put my chin in my hand, and closed my eyes. Perhaps it was this posture that helped the blockage come free at last.

“There’s a dog who lives out in the countryside… He’s not doing well.” As a result, I was sad and miserable and stressed and I hated every minute of it. “So I think maybe that’s got me all…depressed or whatever.”

The answer to my frustration was right in front of me—I just had to be willing to see it. But I was afraid. Afraid of what the passage of time would take from me next. Afraid of a world where someone died every time I closed my eyes.

“I see,” she replied curtly. 

No surprise there. Obviously she wasn’t going to have much to say about some random kid’s dog. But then her hands grasped my head, and she pulled me close, as if it was something she’d done a thousand times. 

How many other people had she subjected to this before me? And how many more would come after me? As I mulled it over, I buried my face in her chest. 

It felt like I was lying in a field of flowers.

Resting against someone was reassuring, and warm, but awkward at the same time. I wasn’t used to this, and I felt restless. But my body had given in to gravity, and it refused to budge. Though I wasn’t crying, I couldn’t bring myself to look up at her. 

“It’s not easy, but…I suggest you hold space for that pain,” said the person lying on the other side of the flower field. “It’s best not to run from your emotions.” 

For the first time, I heard a hint of complexity in her voice. But these were adult concepts, and I couldn’t yet grasp them. After an immeasurable amount of time being held like a basketball…

“Feel better?”

“…Yeah.” Normally, I would have thrown a fit, but right now, I didn’t want to move. It felt like an awful waste to trample the flowers.

“If only you weren’t in junior high right now… What unlucky timing.”

“…Shut up.” If I was in high school, what would she have done instead? And would I have been able to laugh it off?

“Do you feel better now?” she repeated.

“Just peachy,” I replied, more firmly this time. And as if that was her cue, she let go of my head.

“Well then, let’s compete.”

“What?” 

“Remember? I said I wanted to compete with you once I got some practice in.”

As she rose to her feet, I followed her away from the bench, dusting off the seat of my pants. Had she come here today solely to tie up loose ends? How very…diligent, maybe.

“Let’s do the thing where the loser has to do whatever the winner says.”

“The what?” There was no such history between us, and frankly, giving this dangerous woman that kind of power over me was tantamount to placing my beating heart in her fist.

“Granted, as I’ve said before, I have no interest in junior high schoolers, so there’s nothing I really want from you.”

Then why had she struck up a conversation with me? Was it just to kill time, or was some part of it a lie? So much was hidden beneath her friendly veneer. 

“Wait, you think you’re going to win?” I scoffed back.

But she simply smiled—the most mature response she’d ever given me. “You can go first,” she offered, almost as if she just wanted to watch me score.

With her guidance, I stepped forward, dribbling the ball two or three times to get the rhythm down. Then I dropped into my stance, holding it in front of my face, feeling the pleasant weight on my wrists. I exhaled, then inhaled, enjoying the oxygen running laps through my veins. At the same time, the lingering scent of flowers permeated every inch of my body.

The flower lady. 

As my heart began to pound, I summoned my strength. Over months and months of daily practice, I had slowly but surely built up a foothold to bring me closer to the hoop, but in the end, I never got to use it. Now, though? Now I was at my greatest height.

The ball and I jumped as one, without fear, leaping off into the great beyond. The pile of rocks beneath me crumbled soundlessly as my feet cut through empty air. My eyes only saw the ball and its flawless arc, tracing across a cloudy sky still too dark for dawn.

Something ran down my arms that made my elbows tingle: a jolt of pure euphoria.

“Looks like you win.” 

When I landed, I was met with celebration. She smiled like she was satisfied enough merely having seen me take the shot. As if drawn in by the flowers, I approached. But as a tutor, it was my job to teach her that it was too early to grow complacent.

“Here.” 

I offered her the freshly retrieved ball. Looking back at my time on the junior high basketball team, passing the ball was something I’d always struggled with—and yet somehow I pulled it off on my first try.

“Seeing as you already put all that practice in, you may as well give it a shot.” Like I did. “If you make it in, you can have the win.”

Why did I say this, you ask? The only explanation is that I simply felt like it. Maybe I was in a good mood now that all those months of effort had finally achieved something. 

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “And if you win, I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Hmmm…” Her eyes wandered. “I wish I could say it sounds enticing, but…I feel nothing.”

“How come?”

“Instead of someone volunteering to do what I want, I’d rather make them do it.”

“Huhwha?!”

The last-minute reveal of her evil smirk sent a shiver down my spine. Laughing, I straightened up so stiffly, it felt like my spine might burst through my skin. My suspicions were confirmed: she was terrifying.

And so the terrifying lady stepped forward and assumed her stance, holding the ball at a low angle. With her excellent posture, she was like an illustration on a postcard of our town. I watched her intently, praying neither for her victory nor her loss, but still praying all the same.

Her jump was perfectly in line with everything I’d taught her. Softly, she tossed the ball. It traced a lazy, yet unwavering arc straight through the air toward the hoop. 

CLANG—a loud, fierce noise like the swing of a fist in protest. Alas, it was the sound of failure. 

As she watched the ball bounce backward, Kimono Lady smiled. “I accept my loss, but if you don’t mind, could I keep trying until I make it in?”

“Go for it.” 

The grown woman sauntered after the ball like a little girl. She missed four more shots after that, but on the fifth, the hoop relented. “Sensei, I really like it when the ball goes in!” my pupil reported back gleefully. 

Her form was all over the place, and she’d forgotten basically everything I’d shown her, and she threw the ball like she wasn’t even trying…but her smile was like fireworks, and her forehead glittered with sweat, and she smelled like a bouquet of roses. So I decided to forego all the complaints and see her off. “You pass.”

As she handed the ball back, she beamed from the bottom of her heart, as though my unamused expression meant nothing in the face of her joy. “Well, you still won. Any requests?” 

Just as she wanted nothing from me, I had nothing to ask of her, either. There was no desire between us, yet some form of curiosity had brought us together again…and it was a relationship I actually kind of liked.

“Okay then, um…if you have a little sister, I want you to be nice to her…or something.”

“…What?”

“Picking her up, running around with her… Believe it or not, it’s hard work.” And it’s high time you did some! As I thought back to the way she sat and watched us from the sidelines, I retroactively got a little annoyed. “Oh, and the same applies if it’s a little brother,” I added hastily as the possibility occurred to me. 

Unless something was an immediate part of my life, I tended to forget it existed. And since it was near-impossible to change how my brain worked, my only option was to make sure my life was filled with everything I wanted to remember. At some point—be it sooner or later—she, too, would fade from my mind. So I stared up at her while I still could, cherishing our final moments just a tiny bit. 

“Okay. I promise I will,” she conceded without argument or delay. 

Her smile was no mere decoration, nor was it forced; she was simply wearing her heart on her sleeve. As for how I could have known that, well…most likely, so was I. 

“Anyway, if you don’t have a girlfriend by the time I see you again, we should go on a date. See you!”

Of all the statements to go out on. “Girlfriend?” Not boyfriend? It was such a massive leap in logic, I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

In the end, she and I never even introduced ourselves—but our brief connection never needed it.

I dribbled the ball, ran around the court like I was doing laps, took a shot and, when I inevitably missed, diligently retrieved the ball once more. Tap, tap, tap. I hadn’t jumped, but I could still hear the rhythm through my soles. 

“…Ha ha…” 

Alone, dopey chuckles spilled from my mouth like pebbles. Everything from the shoulders up felt so light. Whatever stress that had pinned my head down was gone now…and I was ready to move on. 

I looked up at the morning sun, soundlessly washing across the town like the tide. Its orange sparkle was fainter than sunset, filling in the gaps between the buildings. Thin clouds trailed like claw marks with puffy thunderheads rising in columns just beyond. The occasional hum of a car traced a spiral along the road. And oddly enough, the scent on the lukewarm breeze was enough to make me smile.

It had been an eternity since I truly saw the dawn for what it was. At last, it sank in: whether I woke up like an early bird or zoned out like a night owl, the day would begin and eventually end. With a more open mind, my heart stopped charging ahead for once. I let the wave of morning rays splash over me without even bothering to wipe my sweat.

I couldn’t explain it, but…life felt fun again, and it was a load off my shoulders. Or maybe it really was just that simple.

The bounce of the ball felt so good. With a flick of my wrist, I added a spin to it. I was frolicking like a child, but hey, it wasn’t so bad. Yeah…it felt kind of nice.

She was impossible to read, but something about her felt genuine deep down inside. Her laughter was crisp, yet ever so faintly cold. And the mysterious feelings that engulfed my heart quietly ushered me into the best possible mood. It was two conflicting states of being—a peaceful thrill not unlike popping bubbles as they rose to the surface. 

As for the answer to that mystery…

By any chance…this wouldn’t happen to be…my first love…?

“Yeah, right.”

As I joked to myself, I slammed the ball down hard once more. When it bounced back up again, I reached out…and in the distance, I saw a girl racing down the bridge on her bike with a bored look on her face. Without so much as a glance, she was gone again—nothing more than a passerby. But for some reason, as I was walking home that day, I caught myself thinking about the trail of dark hair that had flowed behind her.