6
And so Yui Yuigahama disappears into the throng.
Now and then you’ll hear people commenting, There’s no sense of regional community anymore or Nobody connects with their neighborhoods these days. And that is indeed true. This is coming from a guy who doesn’t even connect at school, much less the neighborhood, so you can be sure it’s true.
I don’t really know enough about how it used to be to talk about the good old days, but personally, at least, I’ve never really felt like part of a regional community. I guess it’s because every time I hear about some regional thing, I have no idea who the hell people are talking about. When people bring up the head of the neighborhood association or the mayor or whoever, I can’t even call their face to mind. This one time in middle school, they came up with this slogan, “Let’s pick up garbage for the community!” and scheduled our entire afternoon block with clean-up activities. But of course, it was hard to give a damn in service of some randos, so I ended up spending the afternoon on a plain old walk.
But there are times we can just barely sense the existence of this “regional community.” Days like this one. All afternoon, I had been hearing far-off popping sounds. And then, as if waking from a long sleep, the town reverberated faintly.
When I left the house, I could sense a restlessness and agitation on my skin that seemed to be in cahoots with the strong rays of the summer sun. Walking down toward the station, I saw a lot of people moving in the same direction as I was. The women in yukata stood out in particular among the crowd.
On the train, I found myself at the center of clingy couples and families carrying cooler boxes. I stuck my earbuds in and zoned out as I stood there, but I was soon overwhelmed, chased into the corners of the train. It was only a matter of time before my spiritual pressure would disappear.
For the next few minutes, I breathed quietly so as to avoid notice. The train rolled through a few stops, and then finally, my destination would be the next one. When the doors slid open, I was the only one who stepped out of the train—there were far more people going in. After the voice-over announced “The door is closing!” I watched the doors roll away and then dragged myself to the ticket gate.
Good grief… I had this staggering feeling that this was a pointless trip. Just imagining getting on that crowded train again was draining my patience. Once I see her, I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind, I thought, nourishing my seed of disgruntlement as I passed through the ticket gate against the flow of the crowd. It was only one minute past our meeting time.
I had assumed she would already be there, but…looking around the area, I couldn’t catch a sign of that slowpoke anywhere. I didn’t see any Bulbasaurs or Squirtles, either. As I leaned on a pillar in the concourse, I recognized a few passersby from school. Of course, I didn’t really know them, so I didn’t say anything, and they didn’t, either. They were all wearing traditional clothes. As I watched the high school kids, I caught sight of a girl emerging from the north exit, clip-clopping along in her wooden geta sandals.
Little flowers bloomed here and there all over her pale-pink yukata, which was decorated with a vibrant crimson obi sash. Her pinkish hair was not in her usual bun but rather pulled up tightly in an updo. She seemed unused to wearing geta. Her footsteps were particularly unsteady as she instinctively took two, three hurried steps forward. “Oh, Hikki! I was in a bit of a rush, and…now I’m late…” Her smile was shy, apologetic, and sort of embarrassed.
“No, it’s fine.” We were facing each other, but for some reason, we both fell silent. Yuigahama lowered her eyes, smoothing her hair over her head. Are you Hamtaro or what? “Well, um…your yukata is nice,” I said.
Why am I complimenting her yukata? You’re supposed to compliment what’s inside it.
But Yuigahama seemed to get the idea before I could correct myself. Her eyes darted all around as she replied, “Um…th-thank you.”
Silence again. What am I supposed to do here? The only thing I can think of that’s this silent is Seagal. In an attempt to rescue us from deadlock, I spoke. “…So…let’s get going.”
“…Yeah.” I began to walk, and she clip-clopped behind me.
We passed through the ticket gates and waited for the train coming from Tokyo. Yuigahama was looking at her feet the entire time, not saying a single word. I’m not the type to be bothered by silence. But Yuigahama is. She gets particular over such trivial stuff, and that got me anxious because maybe if I didn’t say anything, she’d get angry. I figured I’d just say something, anything, to get things going. “Hey, so why did you want to meet at a random halfway point instead of just meeting up there?”
“Because…it’s hard to meet up when there’s so many people.”
“You have a phone, don’t you?”
“It’s hard to hear, though.”
Oh yeah. Now that she mentioned it, I’d heard it’s hard to hear your phone when you’re in a crowded place. I’ve never used a cell phone in a crowd, so I thought that was an urban legend. Not that I use my phone very much in less crowded places, either, though.
“Besides, meeting up there would just be…bland,” she said.
“Why would you need it to be flavorful? It’s not seaweed.”
“Wh-who cares! Do you have a problem with it?”
“No, ma’am.” She got mad at me…
And so silence fell again. Though it was still completely bright out, we were groping through the darkness, sensing nothing but each other’s presence.
“So this fireworks show…”
“About the fireworks show—” We started at the same time.
Flustered, Yuigahama gestured for me to go ahead.
“…So this fireworks show,” I asked, “do you usually go?”
“Oh yeah. I go every year with friends.” Right as she replied, the train came.
“Huh.”
A lot of the people on the train were probably headed out to see the fireworks. Not only were they wearing yukata—some were carrying vinyl picnic blankets and parasols. It was pretty packed. But it was just one stop. We stood beside the door. The doors rattled shut, and then the train began to move.
“Were you going to say something before?” I asked.
“Yeah. Um…I was gonna ask…have you ever been to the fireworks?”
What a blindingly trivial question. “Oh, we were thinking the same thing!” Stop it. Stop that shy little smile. It’s catching. It’s gonna be a real pandemic.
I averted my eyes and checked my watch. Still only four, huh…? “I went once before when I was in elementary school, with my family.”
“Really?” And the conversation cut off again. Our conversation had been cut in so many places, it was practically a tuna. The train continued on. Right about when I caught a glimpse of Port Tower in the distance, we began to brake.
“Eek!” Yuigahama yelped, and I heard the sound of geta clacking as a sweet scent wafted into my nose. A soft weight pressed into my shoulder. Yuigahama had lost her balance—probably because of those sandals she wasn’t used to—and had fallen over on me. I caught her automatically.
“…”
“…”
Our faces were incredibly close. She blushed red and quickly backed away. “S-sorry…”
“Hmm. Well, it’s crowded…” I turned my head away, pretending to watch the scenery from the window. I breathed a long sigh and hid my face from Yuigahama. Although the moment had passed, I was breaking out in sweat.
M-man, that made me nervous… Phew, that was close. So close. Moments like that could make a regular guy inadvertently fall for her.
But that wasn’t going to happen here. I’m not having any more misunderstandings, making any more assumptions, or getting the wrong idea ever again. Trying to find meaning in plain coincidence or mere phenomena is the kind of bad habit you see in guys who can’t get girls. When she greets you in the morning, that’s just common politeness.
When she drops her handkerchief in front of you, that’s carelessness. And when a girl at your part-time job gives you her e-mail address, it’s because she wants you to cover her shift. I don’t believe in coincidence, fate, or destiny. All you can believe in are company orders.
I really think you shouldn’t turn into that kind of adult. I don’t wanna get a job…
When we emerged from the station, the area was overflowing with people and abuzz with noise. Port Tower soared over us, reflecting the world below in its mirrored walls and intensifying the light of the sunset. It was as if that light were stirring up the expectations of the crowds even more as they eagerly awaited the start of the show. They were all laughing loudly and exchanging cheery, joyful looks.
There were your standard food stalls like takoyaki and okonomiyaki all along the way, neighborhood convenience stores and liquor stores lining up their goods outside under their awnings, and restaurants announcing that you could see the fireworks from their shop as they enthusiastically reeled in customers. It was summer in Japan. It must be wired into us at a genetic level, because you can’t help but get excited. The Chiba Municipal Fireworks Festival was about to begin.
The station wasn’t too far from the place where they’d be shooting off the fireworks. I’d even say the entire park is adjacent to the station. But the area was jammed with so many people, it was hard going. Normally, the plaza was deserted, giving the area a wide-open feel, but now, even from afar, I could see it was submerged under the waves of people. The air was stuffy, but there was a pleasant sea breeze blowing through.
When I checked the clock, it was still only just after six. I was pretty sure the fireworks were starting around seven thirty. So what to do until then? I turned to Yuigahama beside me and asked, “Looks like we still have some time, so what do you want to do? Go back?”
“I’m not going back! How can you just automatically suggest we go home?!”
That was a bad habit of mine. Whenever I go out, I’m thinking about when I get home. No matter when and where I go, I always prioritize getting back alive—I’d make such a great spy or ninja, it’s worrying. “Then what do you want to do?” I asked. I was just about to add, Go home after all? when Yuigahama pulled her cell phone out of her drawstring coin purse.
“Umm, well, Komachi sent me an e-mail with a list of the stuff she wanted us to buy.” She tapped her phone a few times and then showed it to me. All the sparkling, garish, cumbersome rhinestones on her phone made it an eyesore, but I decided to focus on the screen for the moment.
Komachi’s shopping list
Yakisoba…400 yen.
Cotton candy…500 yen.
Ramune…300 yen.
Takoyaki…500 yen.
Your memories of the fireworks…priceless.
What’s with that last line?
Your big brother is imagining you typing this out with a smug look on your face, Komachi, and he’s a little embarrassed…
Yuigahama seemed to notice my eye-rolling, as she gave me a strained smile and tittered. This is humiliating! Your big brother is so ashamed now!
Man, Komachi strikes again. Nobody asked for your schemes, I thought. Well, I get that she’s trying to be helpful in her own way. I’m not so dense that I can’t figure out an obvious setup like this.
In fact, I’m on the perceptive side. I’m sensitive, I’m oversensitive, and I overreact.
The reason is because about 80 percent of boys in the world harbor feelings about a girl and think, Maybe she likes me? That’s exactly why you have to be the one to bully yourself. You always have to have that calm and cool person inside you who will shoot you that chilly glare: Of course not. I don’t trust other people much, but I trust myself less.
I let out a short sigh and tried to change the mood. “Then let’s just go get these one by one.”
“Okay.” Maybe it was because of Komachi’s lame e-mail, or maybe the cheer of the festival had gotten to her, but Yuigahama had a bounce in her step as she clip-clopped along in her geta. Even amid the noisy throng, I could hear her footsteps and her humming.
People were still flowing into the plaza. The usual food stalls were lined up everywhere, and each one was packed with customers. I knew all the food was mediocre, but seeing the spread in front of me, illuminated by the light of bare light bulbs, it was more appetizing than I had expected. The glistening sauce and oil on the yakisoba made it look exceptionally juicy. So juicy that I thought this was Kabaya.
Yuigahama oohed, too, her eyes sparkling as she tugged at my sleeve. “Hey, hey, what do you want to eat first? Candied apples? How about candied apples?”
“That’s not on the list.” And since when did our goal become eating and not shopping?
Yuigahama eyed the candied apples before reluctantly turning back to me, her phone in hand. “Then what do you want to get first?”
“First, we’ll get the things that aren’t temperature sensitive, I guess. So then that means the cotton ca—”
“Oh, wow! You can win a PS3 here!” Just as I was about to walk away, Yuigahama yanked on my sleeve. Her attention was glued to the treasure fishing booth. There was a PS3 and other generous prizes piled up there.
“Come on, you’re never going to win that…,” I said. “Anyway, just listen to me.”
“Huh? But they’ve got strings attached to them,” she said.
“Yeah, they’re attached somewhere. Who knows where, though.” Each prize had a string attached to it. All the strings were then bunched together before splitting off again in every direction. The customer would have no idea what kind of trick was between the string ends and the prizes. “Listen. Any time they show off all the good stuff like that, it’s a trap. If something looks like it’s gonna work out in your favor, there’s always a catch. That’s common sense.”
“In what world is that common sense? …The criminal underworld?”
Our conversation was earning us a glare from the old guy at the treasure fishing booth, so I quietly hurried toward the next stall to escape.
I figured we’d get the cotton candy first. The machine at the cotton candy stand rumbled and vibrated as it disseminated its sweet scent into the air, spinning fluffy white threads and weaving them together. The cotton candy was then stuffed into bags and hung from the awning. All the bags had anime characters or superheroes printed on them—probably making Toei money.
This stuff is the same in every generation. I think it was like this when I was little, too. Yuigahama apparently shared a similar sense of nostalgia, since she was the same age as I was. She was watching the cotton candy tenderly. “Wow, this stuff really takes me back! Hey, which one do you want?”
I pointed to the pink bag in front of me and paid five hundred yen.
Okay, look—I have absolutely no interest in anime for little girls, and I never even watch that stuff, but since Komachi’s a girl, um, I thought I should get one of those, uh, P-P-Precue-whatevers? Those. Yeah. Not that I’m interested. At all. I give so few shits about that stuff, I can’t even tell Jewelpet and Pretty Rhythm apart.
After we got the cotton candy, we bought the Ramune and then the takoyaki. “We’ll get the yakisoba next, I guess?” suggested Yuigahama.
“Yeah. I think it was over that way…”
I spun around to start toward the next stall, and that’s when I noticed a girl looking our way. She gave us a tiny wave and approached us. “Oh, it’s you, Yui!”
“Oh, Sagamin!” Yuigahama gave her a tiny wave in return and took a few steps toward the other girl. Both of them were doing the exact same thing.
Oh, so this is that mirroring thing, huh? I saw on Tokumei Research that emulating another person’s gestures is a technique to make them sympathize with you easier.
So…who was this girl?
At times like these, it’s best to fade out, to sink into the background. I’ll become a tree!
Man, I could really detect a subtle difference in friendliness in the way they called out to each other. Yuigahama’s greeting was entirely sincere. The other girl—this Sagamin or whoever—wasn’t entirely friendly, but she was like, We’re close enough not to be acting distant, right?
So yeah, anyway, who was this chick?
I guess the girl was thinking the same thing as I was, if her questioning look was any indication. “Um…”
“Oh!” said Yuigahama. “Yeah, of course. This is Hikigaya. He’s in our class. Hikigaya, this is Minami Sagami, also in our class.”
Huh. So we’re in the same class? Now that I think of it, I might’ve seen her before.
Sagami gave a faint, casual bow, and that’s when our eyes met.
It was just a flash.
For a fleeting moment, a smile appeared on her face.
“Oh, really! You guys came together, huh? It’s been an all-girls fireworks show for me. So jealous! I bet you’re having a great time…”
Yuigahama seemed unsure how to respond, but she played along and laughed anyway. “Why are you making it sound like the All-Girls Swimming Show? And it’s really not like that with us.”
But I didn’t feel like laughing at all. I was well acquainted with the smile on Sagami’s face just then. It had been neither a grin nor a guffaw. It had been an undeniable sneer. She’d taken one look at the guy Yui Yuigahama was out with and clearly scoffed.
“Huh? Why not?” said Sagami. “It’s summertime! That sort of thing is nice.” The smile on her lips was unfaltering as she briefly scanned me for an evaluation.
That single act froze my heart so cold it was as if that earlier warmth had never been.
And when my heart cools, so does my head. My thoughts became clear and crisp, as if liquid nitrogen were trickling down my spine. My reason and logic and experience all joined forces and faced off against my emotions. It took no time whatsoever for them to reach their verdict, and I easily wrestled my feelings into submission.
I had been about to make another mistake.
Minami Sagami and I have nothing to do with each other. We don’t really know each other. And what is the fastest way to understand someone you don’t know well?
Label them.
All she has to go on is my social status. And I’m not just talking about Sagami. Everyone does this. Before you get to know someone personally, first you make a guess about them based purely on their associations with certain groups and places and the ranks and titles they hold. It’s very common to judge someone as a person based on their school or your job.
You don’t hear much about it recently, but an extreme example is the plausible rumors of academic-background filters during job-hunting season.
Yuigahama is a border-transgressing individual with strong communication skills, so I’m prone to forgetting that she’s fundamentally a member of the highest caste in our class and our school. I, on the other hand, am at the bottom. Yukinoshita was something else altogether—she was positioned outside the school caste system, but from the perspective of a neutral party, any interaction between Yuigahama and me would seem like nothing more than charity on her part.
I’ve really made things awkward here… I knew all the teens in the neighborhood would be coming out for a big fireworks event like this. I hadn’t thought this through.
You could describe this event as a sort of social networking opportunity for ladies. The boy she brings along could be considered a kind of status symbol, just like how one could measure a girl’s value based on the bag she carries or the brand of clothing she wears. For example, if Yuigahama were here with Hayama instead of me, I bet everyone would be reacting totally differently. She’d be invited to the victory interviews tonight. But coming with me, she was basically getting a court-martial and trial in absentia.
I don’t believe we live in different worlds. This would feel so much easier if we did. We’ve both got one foot in the same world, and that’s what makes it such a pain in the ass.
I’m okay no matter how much people sneer at me, but I’d feel bad turning Yuigahama into an object of ridicule, too. “It looks like there’s a line for the yakisoba. I’m gonna go wait over there.”
“Oh yeah. I’ll be there soon,” Yuigahama replied with a somewhat apologetic smile. She stayed where she was, and I quickly left.
Anything that would earn Yuigahama scorn, however small, should be quickly jettisoned. I could hear Yuigahama and Sagami continuing their conversation behind me, but I wasn’t listening as I walked away.
I found my way to the yakisoba stall, relying only on a brief memory of its location and the scent of sauce. The sight of the stir-fried noodles in the transparent plastic containers held shut by elastic bands and lit by the warm-colored glow of the bare light bulb made me weirdly hungry. I paid for the yakisoba and took a container, and that’s when Yuigahama showed up.
“Sorry,” she said, looking a little awkward.
But she had nothing to apologize for, so I didn’t quite know how to respond. “The candied apples,” I muttered.
“Huh?” Yuigahama blinked.
“You wanted to get one, right?” I reminded her.
“Y-yeah! I do, yeah! I’ll give you half, too!”
“I don’t want any.” Well, um, uh, if you could cut it in half precisely with a knife or something, then I suppose I’d be okay with that, like, you know…
Anyway, now I was fairly sure we had bought everything on the list. It was right about time for the fireworks to start. I didn’t have to look at the clock to tell—the stirring of the crowd told me.
The sun finally sank into Tokyo Bay, and the heavens were filled with indigo-blue darkness. The moon rose high as if eagerly anticipating the fireworks that would be launched toward it. We made our way from the road lined with food stands to the main venue, where the plaza was already overflowing with people. Plastic picnic blankets covered every square inch of ground as people shared preliminary drinks. From far away, I heard a child crying, and immediately afterward, a nearby exchange of angry bellows.
All that meant there was nowhere to sit or go. If I had been alone, I would have been able to manage. I could have sat wherever or gone farther away to watch the fireworks. But with Yuigahama along, it was another matter entirely. We obviously couldn’t be standing for the whole thing, so I decided to look for a place where the two of us could sit. But we didn’t even have any newspapers to sit on, never mind plastic blankets. Yuigahama was in a yukata, so she probably wouldn’t want to sit straight on the ground. Maybe a nearby bench? I thought, but apparently everyone else had been thinking the same thing, as the benches were already occupied.
Oh, hey, we have nowhere to go, just like me at a school event.
“Man, it sure is crowded,” Yuigahama said with an awkward ta-ha-ha.
Yes, indeed. “If I’d known it’d be this crowded, I would’ve at least brought a little plastic sheet,” I said.
“N-ngh… That kinda makes it my fault. Sorry, I should have told you.”
“…That’s not what I meant. I’m just not used to this stuff. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Sorry.” If I had spared it a little more thought, I could have predicted this. I was a little weary of my own carelessness.
A guy who actually gets girls would probably have thoroughly prepared everything and given her the attention she deserves. Gently taking the lead is more important than being good-looking or whatever. You know, sending sincere e-mails, looking up stuff before you go out together, or taking her mind off things with snappy conversation when you have to wait in a long line.
…Man, what the hell? That all sounds really hard. If you have to do all that to get girls, then I’m fine going without, seriously. And, like, why is it always the guy doing all the work? What happened to gender equality? …Hey! Why do they call it being a “player” when it’s actually nothing but work? Wow, that joke was stupid. But my knack for those is one of my favorite things about myself.
Anyway. I think forcing yourself to keep up appearances and putting up this identity that isn’t yours, a mask you don’t wear when you’re alone, is phony. If you have to do all that stuff to get someone to love you, then can you really say they love you and who you really are? Once you change yourself to win affection, to win love, I don’t even know if you can still call you you. If you’ve built your relationship on pretense and lies, it’ll probably fail in some way or another, and if you’ve fundamentally changed yourself, then it’s not really you.
These trivial musings brought a small sigh from my lips. My eyes had been drifting downward, and as I made a conscious effort to raise them again, they met Yuigahama’s as she stood there stupidly with her mouth hanging open. “What…?” I asked.
“…So you can be considerate.”
“Huh? Don’t be stupid. Of course I can. When I sit quietly in the corner so as not to bother anyone, that’s me being considerate.” I don’t talk to people, I walk one step behind others instead of walking abreast, and I never invite anyone out so as not to interfere with their plans. I’m so mindful, I’m practically in a state of permanent meditation.
Yuigahama laughed. “That’s not the kind of thing I mean. Um, I mean, like, you’re nice? Sorta.”
“Oh-ho, so you’ve noticed. Yes indeed, I am nice. It is because though I have suffered many wrongs, I have always turned a blind eye to everyone and everything, renouncing revenge. If I were a regular individual, the world would be over by now. I’m like Jesus, in a way.”
“A regular person can’t destroy the world! And regular people don’t suffer many wrongs!”
Damn, that was a sincere reply. “Well, whatever. Anyway, there might a space over there. Let’s go take a look,” I said.
“Okay.”
We began to proceed, but only moments previously a rush had begun toward the food stands and the bathrooms, so we were forced to swim against the current as we moved forward. I weaved through the spaces between the masses of people jumbled together. It’s a habit of mine to walk without making a sound.
Once I find a gap to squeeze through, a little crowd like this is nothing for me. I’m a star player on par with the Japan National Soccer Team. Ha! I’m an expert at going against the flow. I mean, the world is always leaving me behind, so I’m constantly struggling upstream.
I slipped through the waves of people coming at me like I was dodging wooden men to become a Shaolin monk, eventually coming out to an area where the tide of people began to slow. But then I realized Yuigahama might not have been able to keep up. Oh man, my skills led me too far ahead, huh? I thought and turned back, but it turned out there was no problem.
Yuigahama sprinkled apologies of “Pardon!” and “Sorry!” and “Excuse me!” here and there as she slipped and knifehanded through the crowd.
Whoa, she’s got a knack for keeping tabs on her surroundings…
“What’s wrong?” She caught up to me easily, tilting her head with a questioning noise.
“Nothing.” Now that I think about it, someone who is used to crowds like this would obviously be better at handling them. It was apparently not Stealth Hikki’s game. “It looks like here is less crowded.”
“This is the toll section,” said Yuigahama.
Looking around, I saw that there was indeed a black-and-yellow rope clearly cordoning off the area. The entire clearing was encircled by trees, so normally it would be a bit hard to see the fireworks from there. But the toll area was on the top of a small hill, making the view exceptionally good. They seemed serious about security, too. I could see part-timers loitering and circling the area. If we stayed standing here, they would probably drive us away. “I guess we can look some more,” I said. The traffic was a little milder when we hugged the rope, so I prompted Yuigahama to follow and began walking.
“Huh? Is that you, Hikigaya?”
The blackness of the night made a striking contrast with the dark-blue cloth of her refined-looking yukata; its pattern of giant lilies and autumn grass lent its wearer a chaste appearance.
Sitting there was Haruno Yukinoshita.
The rope drew a literal line between our position and hers in the special section. With the people around her at her beck and call, the chair she sat on was like a throne, and she was the picture of an empress.
At 7:40, ten minutes after the scheduled time, they broadcast an announcement declaring that the fireworks were now to begin. A smattering of applause went up from the crowd, and someone got excited enough to let out a piercing whistle. If he had been nearby, I might have punched him. I get the impression that about 50 percent of the guys who whistle arrogantly like that are actually the quiet type, and it’s only times like these when they cause a racket.
The paid section was on the highest part of the hill within this open area, and it was also directly in front of where they’d be launching the fireworks, so you’d be able to see the show without the trees around obstructing your view. Technically, you had to buy a ticket to get in, but Haruno gestured for us to enter.
“I’m representing my father, you see, so I’ve had to greet so many people. I was getting bored. I’m glad to see you here, Hikigaya!”
“Huh. So you’re the representative. Wow.” I basically ignored the latter half of what she had said as my eyes darted around.
Haruno chuckled. “I guess these are what you call VIP seats. You wouldn’t be able to get in, normally.” She bragged with the innocence of a child. Sometimes unconcealed pride doesn’t come off as arrogant.
Haruno Yukinoshita has such a straightforward nature, and I think that’s part of what makes her so charismatic. All she had to say was “Sorry, my friends were late,” and the people who had clustered around her immediately backed away. What’s more, even when she beckoned us into the VIP area, the part-time guards didn’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary about it. They didn’t come over to check what was going on, not even once. Real VIPs are pretty amazing.
“You’re a celebrity…” Yuigahama breathed a sigh that rode the fine line between admiration and shock.
Haruno giggled. “Well, you know my father’s job, right? He’s got a lot of clout at municipal events like this.”
“Prefectural assembly has clout, even in the city?” I asked.
“Oh, you’re sharp. I’d expect nothing less from you. But I’d say it’s less because of the prefectural assembly and more because of the company.”
I think her family does construction or something. If their business includes some public works stuff, well, I bet they would have clout. There have always been three things that are important to get elected, the so-called 3 F’s: a foundation of public support, a figurehead, and full bags, and I’d say she’s got all three. And for your information, “full bags” basically means cash. You could also call it “for kickback.” And by the way, the three most important bags are plastic bags, the bags under your eyes, and my old bag. Hey, what are you implying about my mom?
While the mayor or whoever it was expounded at length upon his gratitude for all parties concerned and made his congratulations and whatnot, Haruno offered us seats next to her own. Yuigahama and I decided to gratefully take her up on her offer. Bowing to her, we both sat down.
I would have leaned back and relaxed, but with Haruno beside me, I couldn’t. It wasn’t just nervousness because she was a pretty older girl—what I was really scared of was her all-too-perfect outer mask. I got the feeling that something dark was surging within her, and I’m not good at dealing with that sort of thing.
All of a sudden, she leaned right against my ear and whispered into it. “By the way…I’m not impressed to see you playing around with another girl.”
“Um, I’m not playing around…”
Her expression immediately turned frigid. “So then you’re serious about her, huh? That’s even worse.”
“Ow, ow, ow!” She tugged my ear just like Sazae does to Katsuo. I escaped quickly, so she didn’t damage it too badly, but if she had pulled it a little harder, I might have gone and ended up inviting Nakajima to play baseball with me. “We aren’t serious, either…,” I said. What the hell, man, I can’t handle pain. I am not playing the field, nor have I reached any bases with either of them. There will be no home runs but no strikeouts, either. I’m sitting on the bench, thank you very much, so whatever she wants me to say, it’s not gonna happen.
Right as I deflected Haruno’s attack, the bigwig on the loudspeaker finished his announcements, and finally, the first of the fireworks was to be launched. An extralarge cluster bloomed into enormous flowers in the night sky to musical accompaniment. Layer upon layer of red, yellow, and orange lights spread out in the sky without pause, continuously lighting the darkness.
“Ooh…”
The flowering halos were beautifully reflected in the half-mirror glass of the Port Tower, brightening the night. This was to be the beginning of eight thousand shots of continuous technicolor fireworks. They boomed and popped with a do-don-PA! again and again. There were so many dodonpas, I was like, are you Mercenary Tao or what?
Amid the ringing sounds of bursting fireworks, Haruno’s chair creaked as she settled deeper into it.
“U-um…” Yuigahama began to speak to Haruno, with me between the both of them. She’d probably been looking for the right moment.
Haruno blinked her big eyes. “Um…Something-gahama, was it?”
“I-it’s Yuigahama.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry, sorry.” Though I could sense absolutely no malice in her, that flub had definitely been deliberate. Haruno was not the type to forget names so easily. I mean, this was a character who rivaled Yukino Yukinoshita… No, Haruno most likely surpassed her. I couldn’t suppress my suspicion that that little slip of the tongue was meant to accomplish something. When I gave her a long, hard look to try to divine what it might be, she giggled. A shiver went down my spine. It was like her smile was flaunting her ability to read me like a book. It was its beauty that made it scary.
“Yukinon isn’t with you today?” asked Yuigahama.
“I think Yukino-chan’s at home,” said Haruno. “Public appearances are my job, after all. I told you I’m my father’s representative, didn’t I? I didn’t exactly come here for fun.” Haruno jabbed a finger at herself as she gave a jocular grin. “Coming out to occasions like these is my job as the eldest daughter. That’s always been my mother’s policy.”
I seemed to remember that the younger sister had said something similar…that it was Haruno’s role to be the public face, and that she herself was only a substitute. I figured that meant Haruno was their father’s official successor. Well, I feel like it’s extremely reasonable to designate your eldest child as your successor. But that alone was not enough of an explanation.
“Does that mean that Yukinon isn’t allowed to come?” asked Yuigahama.
Sure, it was fine that Haruno was the successor. But that didn’t explain why Yukinoshita couldn’t be here.
Haruno gave something of a troubled smile. “Hmm, well…that’s what our mother wants. Besides, it’s better to keep things nice and clear, right?”
“Well, you two do look alike,” said Yuigahama. “So if only one of you is here, then people wouldn’t get you guys mixed up.”
I didn’t think that was it, though. It was basically an issue of appearances. Doing this to emphasize that there is only one successor prevents unnecessary squabbles. Any apparent disputes between potential successors would most likely be to their disadvantage. Man, it’s like a samurai family.
Haruno put her finger to her cheek and breathed a small, uneasy sigh. “You know, our mother has a strong personality, and she’s scary.”
“Huh?” I said. “You mean scarier than Yukinoshita?”
“Yukino-chan? Scary?” Haruno stared at me and then burst into pleasant laughter. It was melodious in a way her previous chuckles had not been, as if she sincerely found my statement hilarious. Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she let out a satisfied sigh. I guess she was concerned about appearances, though, as she cleared her throat. “Geez, that’s rude, Hikigaya. She’s such a cute girl, and that’s what you think of her?” She giggled for a bit longer and then brought her face right close to mine and whispered into my ear. “Our mother is even scarier than I am.”
“…Is she human?” I asked. To be not only scarier than the younger sister, but also the elder—isn’t that a little crazy? That’s beyond a fortified armor shell; that’s basically a Gundam.
“Our mother is the type of person who will decide everything for you and then try to make you fall in line, so we have no choice but to try to compromise with her, but…Yukino-chan’s skills in that area are rather subpar.”
No, she’s beyond subpar. You need more subs to be extra clear: sub-sub-subpar.
“So I was rather surprised when she said she wanted to live alone once she started high school,” said Haruno.
“So Yukinon moved out when she started high school?” asked Yuigahama.
“Yep, yep. She wasn’t the sort of girl to make many demands, so our dad gladly gave her the apartment building.”
Man, I wonder why it is that dads of the world are easy on their daughters?
“Our mother resisted it to the bitter end, though,” Haruno continued. “She still hasn’t accepted the idea…”
“So Yukinoshita is close to your father, huh?” I said.
“Oh-ho, you have interest in your father-in-law?” Haruno joked.
“Please, we both know interest rates in Japan are at an all-time low,” I replied.
“Hmm…twelve points.”
For someone with such soft features, she sure grades hard.
“It’s not quite that they’re close. I think it’s just that our mother has a strong personality, so our father ends up being the one to patch things up.”
I guess it’s something like good cop/bad cop. Or more simply, like the carrot and the stick, I guess.
“Though both me and Yukino-chan know that, so it all evens out,” she continued.
“What a horrible pair of sisters…,” I said wearily.
But Haruno’s beautiful smile did not falter as she turned to speak to Yuigahama. “So was this a date? If so, I’m sorry for interrupting you.”
“N-no, i-it’s nothing like that,” Yuigahama stuttered.
Haruno’s gaze overlooked nothing as she surveyed Yuigahama. “Hmph… You’re acting suspiciously embarrassed. But if it was a date…” Her tone was teasing. There was a momentary pause in the fireworks, so it was dark all around us, and I couldn’t see Haruno’s eyes. But I was sure there was a glint in them, darker than the night sky.
“…yet again, she wasn’t the one.”
Fireworks roared up, crackling over Haruno’s murmur. The booms continued intermittently, and the sky flickered. The smell of gunpowder wafted toward us, carried on the wind along with the lingering afterimages of lights on the black screen of night. The fireworks occasionally illuminated Haruno’s calm smile.
“Um, did you…?” Yuigahama began to speak just as the fireworks shot up.
Haruno erupted into a particularly animated display of excitement and then spun around to face Yuigahama. “Hmm? What was that?” She grinned as if she had been so engrossed in the fireworks that she hadn’t noticed anything else.
“Uh, oh, um…it’s nothing.” Yuigahama swallowed her words, and the conversation ended there.
I could hear the brief cracking of signal guns ringing out, and then there were lights exploding and sprinkling down through the sky. Haruno clapped her hands lightly in the most innocent-looking gesture. You’d never see her younger sister doing that… I don’t know, maybe Haruno had a natural understanding of how others see that gesture, and that’s why she was doing it.
The two sisters looked alike, but at the core, they were so different. Still, it felt like they were both looking in the same direction. It was a little odd.
“Um, Yukinoshita…” I didn’t know what to call Haruno, so I just called her by her last name. I had no intention of acting familiar with her enough to call her by her first name. But when I did, Haruno smiled broadly.
“Hmm? Oh, you can call me Haruno, okay? Or Big Sis. In fact, I’d like you to call me that.”
“Ha-ha-ha…” A dry laugh slipped out of me. No way in hell. “…Yukinoshita,” I continued.
She laughed. “You’re kind of stubborn. It’s cute.”
Damn it, I really don’t like this woman… The scariest part was that she was just a little bit older. With someone as old as Miss Hiratsuka, I can compartmentalize her as a full-fledged adult and a completely different entity. But with someone who is only two or three years older, there’s a subtly different culture. “You used to go to our school, right, Yukinoshita?” I asked.
“Hmm,” she replied. “Yep, sure did. I’m three years older than you,” she said in an informal tone.
Yuigahama nodded with an interested ooh. “Then are you twenty, Yukinon’s sister?”
“Close. I’m still nineteen. My birthday is superlate in the year. Also, you can call me Haruno… ‘Yukinon’s sister’ is too long. If you want, you can call me Harunon. ”
Harunon? That sounds like a name for one of those disposable adhesive hot pads.
That brought a strained smile from Yuigahama. “S-so then, Haruno…”
The show was already shifting into the next segment. As the music blared, the fireworks launched into heart shapes and stuff, like they were going for a specific idea. The show went on, sometimes energetic, occasionally more subdued, accompanied by classical music and some songs I didn’t know at all, like some recent hits or something.
The pyrotechnicians started firing fewer shots, and it looked like they were going to slow it down for a while. Here and there I caught sight of people getting up to go to the bathroom or to go buy stuff. From where we sat in the paid area, I could hear a multitude of voices engaged in pleasant chatter. There was a light meal prepared for us on the table—just what you’d expect from VIP seating.
Yuigahama and Haruno entertained themselves with conversation as I sat sandwiched between them. “So that means you’re in university, Haruno?” asked Yuigahama.
“Yep. It’s a national tech university in the city.”
“Whoah… You must be so smart… You’re Yukinon’s big sister all right.” Yuigahama sounded surprised and impressed.
“I actually wanted to aim a little higher, but this was what my parents wanted.” Haruno’s smile was a mixture of emotions.
Mm-hmm. So if she wanted to work for the local family business, she’d have to go to a local university—was that the idea?
But man, you know…whenever I’m in a group of three or more and people are talking, it’s like a given that I’m not a part of it. I feel like I haven’t been opening my mouth at all for a while now except to eat. At times like these, the best way to get through it is focus on the food. These noodles are great, really. Yep, this sauce is indeed a boy flavor.
“So, wow, both of you are going for science, huh?” Yuigahama’s comment was brief and nonchalant.
Haruno faltered midgesture. The loud fireworks booming in the background highlighted the odd silence beside me as particularly curious. “Yeah. Yuki wants to go to a national science university…” Something in her smile was almost scornful. Maybe it was just me, since I tend to read too deeply into things when it comes to Haruno Yukinoshita. Maybe Haruno really does feel something warm toward her sister.
Yuigahama was silent, watching that smile.
“It hasn’t changed, all this time…,” said Haruno. “We always match, and she gets the hand-me-downs…” She had a nostalgic, faraway look in her eyes, and her tone was kind. But I was unsettled by how she said it.
I do have a bad habit of reading negativity into everything. But I hadn’t been the only one to pick up on it. Yuigahama’s hands were clenched into fists on her knees, and they were trembling just a little bit. “Um…”
“Yeah?”
Though Yuigahama’s expression made her misgivings clear, Haruno tilted her head in response, utterly composed.
“Do you…not get along with Yukinon?”
“Aw, of course we get along! I love Yukino-chan,” Haruno answered instantly, without even taking the time to think, and then broke into a warm smile. The reply and the expression were both perfectly timed and unfaltering. That was precisely what gave me the impression that she had foreseen that line of attack, and her response was merely a counter. Haruno uncrossed her legs, crossed them again in the other direction, and then continued, unaffected. “She’s my little sister. She’s always been chasing after me. How could she not be cute?”
Always been chasing after me, huh? Should I take that to mean Haruno has continually outdone her sister? There was cruelty in that remark, the cruelty of an absolute winner laughing at a foolish challenger, as if she were dealing with a child.
With no trace of callousness in her perfect, beautiful face, Haruno smiled at Yuigahama. “What about you, Yuigahama? Do you like her?” she inquired.
Yuigahama seemed rather taken aback by the direct question. But still, she did her best to string the words together despite her stammering. “I—I do like her! She’s cool, and sincere, and reliable, but it’s cute when she occasionally does something really stupid, and she just looks adorable when she’s sleepy… And…she’s hard to understand, but she’s nice, um, and…and…ah…ah-ha-ha. I’m really just running my mouth here.” Yuigahama was smiling shyly, the fireworks illuminating her cheeks.
“Oh?” said Haruno. “Well, that’s good to hear.” For the very briefest moment, her expression was something you could call kind. It was an odd look for her. But I should say—and as you could expect—in the next moment, those eyes turned demonic. “Everyone says that at first. Still, in the end, they’re all the same. They get jealous, they reject her, and they ostracize her… I hope you’re different.” Her smile was so pleasant and so lovely as to be lurid and terrifying.
“…I…” Overwhelmed, Yuigahama was briefly unable to speak. “…wouldn’t do that.” She did not avert her eyes, staring hard right back at Haruno.
Haruno shrugged and then glanced at me. “You understand what I’m trying to say, right, Hikigaya?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Of course I get it. I’ve seen it plenty of times already, and not just to Yukinoshita. Exceptional individuals are eliminated from any group. The nail that sticks up does not just get hammered down. It gets pulled out and thrown away. It gets ignored, exposed to the blustering elements, and then it rots away.
“Yeah, you got it. I like that look in your eyes,” said Haruno, and I turned toward her.
Our eyes met, and hers were so cold they made me shiver.
She suddenly giggled. “I really do like you. You have this weird understanding of things, and it’s made you all resigned.”
That didn’t feel like a compliment at all. The implications there were so obvious, and there was no misunderstanding her intent at all. When people make selective compliments, like when people pull out one specific thing to say they like it, you can’t trust what they’re saying. I really like your taste! and I like that. Oh, and your taste… are two completely different things. Source: me in middle school. I’m not going to fall for any descriptive trickery now.
“So what about you, Hikigaya?” Haruno asked. “Do you like Yukino-chan?”
“My mother always said to me, I don’t care if you like it or not—just eat it! So I keep my likes and dislikes to myself,” I replied.
Haruno gave me a pleasant smile.
The night wore on, and we watched the fireworks in silence. Golden curtains fell through the sky. When the shower of colored sparks decorated the final moment of the show, we sent them off with a grand applause.
“Well, it’s over. I’m going to leave before it gets too crowded.” Haruno remarked, standing up. How about you? she silently asked.
Yuigahama took the hint and followed suit, standing and turning to me. “Let’s go, too.”
“Yeah.” Just imagining being caught in the crush of people, unable to move, made every hair on my body stand on end. It was probably a good idea to follow Haruno out and leave as soon as possible.
Without any further comment, the three of us began to walk down the path by the toll section that connected to the parking lot. It looked like we could avoid the crowds if we took this way out.
When we arrived at the parking lot, a black rental limo rolled up toward us. I don’t know if Haruno had called for it or if first-class drivers are just always one step ahead when they show up, but the limo came alongside the sidewalk where we were walking.
“I can take you guys home, if you like,” Haruno offered.
“U-um…” Yuigahama glanced my way, leaving the decision to me.
I didn’t reply as I stared at the limo—at this very familiar vehicle. I doubted I was mistaken.
“You can look all you want, but you can’t see the scratches anymore.”
Haruno giggled. But neither I nor Yuigahama made so much as a twitch of a smile. I guess our silence bewildered Haruno, as her expression tightened as well. “H-huh? So Yukino-chan didn’t tell you? I guess I shouldn’t have said that.” She sounded apologetic. She didn’t seem to be lying, but still, the atmosphere was heavy.
“Then…she really…” Yuigahama’s voice was so quiet, I could barely catch it.
Even I could easily deduce the rest of that sentence. Then she really did know. Yukinoshita did know.
Our reaction must have startled Haruno, as she attempted to smooth things over. “Oh, but don’t misunderstand. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Well, yeah…I know that. Yukinoshita has never done anything wrong. To be always right is to be Yukino Yukinoshita.
“She was just in the car. None of it was her fault. You get that, Hikigaya?” she pressed.
This was the first time I’d even heard all this, but ultimately, that changed nothing. It didn’t matter how Yukinoshita had been involved; the facts of the matter were concrete. “Yeah. Well, she’s not the one who caused the accident, so she had nothing to do with it.” My voice sounded colder than I had thought it would. It was a tropical night, but it felt as if my body temperature had plummeted.
There was a sound of tapping sandals, and I sensed a presence one step closer to me. At the silent urging, I forced myself to be a little warmer. “And it’s all in the past, anyway! Don’t look back—that’s what I always say. I mean, constantly thinking about the past is enough to convince you that life is devoid of hope…” H-hey, the chill came back at the end there! Past trauma is a force to be reckoned with.
“Oh? Well, if it’s all in the past, then all right.” Haruno made an exaggerated show of putting her hand to her chest, relief on her face. Perhaps that was why the air between us softened just a bit.
“…I’m going home, then.”
“Yeah, gotcha,” she replied, making no particular move to stop me. I was easily released.
The driver, sensing the conversation was over, came around to open the door. Haruno gave him a quiet “Thank you” and slid right into the car. “See you later then, Hikigaya.” Her wave was quite cheerful. But I didn’t really want to see her again, if possible.
The driver closed the door and quickly returned to his seat, and the car began to roll out.
Yuigahama and I set forth in silence. Perhaps we both wanted a little more time to put everything into words.
We had left the venue early, but apparently, everyone else had been thinking the exact same thing. The station was pretty crowded. The train arrived at the platform a little late, perhaps because of the fireworks show. When we got on, it was just crowded enough that we couldn’t sit down, so Yuigahama and I stood in front of the doors. It was one stop until the one nearest Yuigahama’s apartment, and three stops until mine—not that far. In less than five minutes, the announcement let us know that the train was arriving at the next station.
We had stayed entirely silent thus far, but then Yuigahama muttered just one word. “…Hey…” When I replied with a glance and a little sigh, she paused for a moment and asked, “Did Yukinon…tell you about it?” It was one of those questions where you already know the answer.
“No, she didn’t.”
“Oh… U-um…oh!” With a jolt, the train’s jostling stopped. The doors opened, and stuffy night air wafted into the train. Yuigahama looked at me and then out the doors, clearly considering what she should do. But immediately the bell rang to announce the closing doors, so she had practically no time to think or deliberate. I sighed and stepped off the train.
Yuigahama exited after me. “Are you okay getting off here?” she asked, a bit surprised.
“It wouldn’t feel right to end the conversation there, would it? Did you time that on purpose or something?”
“N-no! It was just hard to say!” Her panicked defense convinced me…
That schemer. Yuigahama is totally a schemer. “…I’ll walk you back,” I said.
“Thanks…” She murmured her gratitude.
Apparently, Yuigahama’s apartment wasn’t far from the station. But since she wasn’t used to wearing geta, she was walking a little slow. The sound of our leisurely paced footsteps punctuated the quiet night in the town. As the darkness grew deeper, a breeze swept by. Even walking around outside as we were, the heat and humidity didn’t feel so bad.
“Did you hear from her?” I asked, continuing our earlier conversation.
Yuigahama weakly shook her head. “You know, though, I think there are just some things you can’t say. When the right moment’s passed, you just can’t. I was like that, too.”
That was true. It had taken Yuigahama a whole year to mention the accident, and she had only confessed because I had found out about it.
“You think to yourself, ‘I’ll do it once I feel ready,’ ‘I just have to think a little more about it and then I’ll do it,’ and then you just keep putting it off.”
Yeah, I think I kinda understand that. It’s really easy to end up in that situation when you have to say something formal. If it’s an apology or confession of guilt, even more so. The longer you wait to say something that would be difficult to say even in the best of times, the heavier your lips feel. And sometimes there are things you can only say in the moment.
“Besides, maybe the reason Yukinon couldn’t say anything was because of family stuff. Not that I know anything about that. Haruno is just scary…”
I don’t think Yukinoshita was necessarily trying to cover for her family. It’s true that it’d be hard to describe Yukinoshita’s family environment as typical. It’s not just that they were rich and locally famous—there was her sister, and I’d only gotten glimpses of her even more bizarre mother. I figured something must be going on. But, I mean, to me it’s not the place of an outsider to say anything about their family affairs. “I don’t really think you should intrude in their domestic problems, though.”
Yuigahama hmmed and pondered my comment for a bit. “D-domestic?” She struggled with the English word. “Oh, you mean DV!”
“Don’t open your mouth when you only understand fifty percent of what you’re saying. I’ll punch you.”
“You’re gonna DV me?!”
This is not DV at all. This is just V. Visual kei.
“Well, just—just pretend you don’t know anything about the incident or her family.”
These were things Yukinoshita did not make open. Things she did not want touched should be left alone. It’s not possible for people to understand one another, and pretending like you do will only make them angry.
Sometimes, indifference is welcome. Like that one time when it was raining and I was carrying a whole bunch of stuff and I slipped and fell, or when the teacher lectured me in front of the entire class… When things like that happen, you pray, Please, let no one talk to me after this! you know? I think it’s about time everyone realized that talking to someone kindly and gently not only doesn’t help, it actively causes damage. Sometimes, sympathy and compassion can be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
“Is it best to just not know, though…?” Yuigahama seemed unconvinced, hanging her head and staring at her feet. She stopped walking, so I did the same.
“I don’t think ignorance is a bad thing. The more you know, the more trouble comes along with it.” To have information is to undertake risk. There are plenty of things you’d be better off not knowing—a prime example being what everyone is really thinking. Everyone, to a lesser or greater extent, tricks and deceives other people. That’s why the truth always hurts. The truth always shatters someone’s peace.
A few seconds passed in silence. That was how long it took for Yuigahama to arrive at her own answer. “But I’d like to know more about her, you know? I want us to learn more about each other and get closer. If she’s in trouble, I want to help her out.” She began to walk, taking the lead. “Hikki…if Yukinon is in trouble, help her out, okay?”
“…”
I couldn’t find the words to reply to that request. I could never come up with a response like Yuigahama’s, not in those few seconds, not in twice that much time, or ten times that much.
I have no desire to intrude. I never have, and I never will intrude. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” I said, encompassing many meanings at once. Yukinoshita was not going to get in trouble, she wouldn’t want help from me, and I wouldn’t intrude on her life.
Yuigahama looked up at the starry sky. Her sandals clacked as she kicked a pebble at her feet. “You’d still save her.”
“You don’t know that.”
Before I could ask her what her basis was for asserting that, Yuigahama turned to look at me. “You saved me, didn’t you?”
“I told you. That was just a coincidence. I didn’t help you knowing it was you. So I didn’t save you in particular.” That’s why even if she did feel gratitude, trust, or something more, it was all just an illusion, a misunderstanding.
If she was evaluating me based on something that anyone else—not just me—could have done, it didn’t count as a positive reflection on me. Just as you can’t judge someone to be a good person based on a single good act, it would bother me for someone to arbitrarily make any decision about my character based on one event. That was why Yuigahama’s sentimental faith in me was all wrong. “Don’t expect that kind of stuff from me.”
I would surely disappoint her. That was why I wanted her to forgo any expectations from the get-go.
Yuigahama and I walked along, maintaining a fixed distance from each other. The sounds of clip-clops and dragging feet alternated through the night. The mismatched dissonance continued on, neither of us closing that small gap of a single step.
And then suddenly, the distance shrank. Yuigahama stopped suddenly, and I pitched forward, inevitably nearing her. She spun around to face me, illuminated by the soft moonlight. “Even without the accident, you still would have saved me. And I think we would have ended up going to see the fireworks together like this, too, I think.”
“Of course not… There was nothing for me to save you from in the first place.” In life, you don’t get any what-ifs. It’s all about looking back and wondering if things had been different.
But still, Yuigahama slowly shook her head. Her eyes were moist, and I could see the streetlights reflected in the corners. “No, I think there would be. I mean, it’s like you said: Even if the accident hadn’t happened, you would have been alone. You said the accident had nothing to do with it. And I am who I am, you know? I would have eventually had some problem, and the teacher would’ve taken me to the Service Club. And then I’d meet you.”
Her wild speculation on what might have happened had an oddly realistic edge to it, so I couldn’t easily deny or refute it. Maybe if things had begun differently, then Yuigahama, Yukinoshita, and I would have built different relationships.
As I considered this, Yuigahama continued enthusiastically. “And then you’d come up with the same kind of stupid pessimistic solution all over again. I’m sure you’d save me. And…”
I heard a sound.
Maybe it came from me, or maybe it came from her. It sounded like a gulp, or perhaps the pounding of a heart. For just one moment, she was unable to speak. Curious about what she had been about to say, I raised my head, and that’s when my eyes met hers.
“And then, I just know…”
Bzz, bzz. I heard a muffled vibration. It was a phone ringing.
“Oh…” Yuigahama glanced at the drawstring coin purse in her hands but ignored her phone and attempted to continue. “I…”
“Shouldn’t you answer that?” I interrupted, preventing her.
Yuigahama looked down at the coin purse she was squeezing in her hands. But that was only for a second before she pulled it out cheerfully, lifting her head with a shy ta-ha-ha. “…It’s my mom calling. Sorry.” She excused herself, took a couple of steps away, and answered the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m already close to home. Yeah, that’s right. Huh? It’s okay! You don’t have to! I said I’ll be home right away!” She loudly ranted about something or other before hanging up on her mom. She gave her phone a sullen glare and then returned it to the coin purse. “I live right around here, so you don’t have to walk me the rest of the way. Thanks for coming this far… S-see you, then!”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, see you. Night.” She gave a tiny wave good-bye.
I casually raised my hand in return. “See you, then.”
Before I was even done replying, Yuigahama quickly tap-tap-tapped down the road toward her apartment. I was a little concerned that she might trip and fall on her face, but she just disappeared into a nearby apartment building, and I started walking back.
As I passed through downtown on the way home, the fervor of the festival lingered around me. Here and there I saw drunks and groups of young people hanging out and goofing around. I kept to the edge of the road to avoid them and indifferently soldiered on. With each silent step I took, the noise and tumult receded farther into the distance. Pedestrian traffic decreased, the tall buildings became sparser, and the cars were driving faster. The headlights accelerating toward me in the oncoming lane were so horribly bright, I had to stand still and look away.
But just for a moment. My averted eyes would eventually have to turn and face forward once more.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login