by Yoru Sumino
Kyōko-san’s eyes water, and she pleads, “Stop.”
“I will not. I have to tell you this, Kyōko-san. She wrote in this book that you’re the most important person to her. That’s why I want you to listen now. She was sick. If she hadn’t been killed, she would have died within six months. I’m telling you the truth.”
Kyōko-san weakly shakes her head.
I slide the book toward her. “Read it,” I say. “She liked pranking people, but you know she would never hurt you as a joke.”
I decide not to say more.
I’m a little worried she won’t read the book, but after a little while, Kyōko-san reaches out her hand and dispels my concern.
Hesitantly, she takes the book and opens its pages.
“It’s really her handwriting,” she says.
“I swear to you, it’s genuine.”
Eyebrows furrowed, Kyōko-san begins slowly reading the first page. I focus on waiting for her.
The girl told me once, before she died, that her friend didn’t read very often. Kyōko-san would need time to read. Of course, her reading speed alone won’t be the only reason she might take a long time.
At first, Kyōko-san seems to have trouble believing her eyes, as she reads and re-reads the same pages several times. Sometimes, I think I see her mouthing, It’s not true. Then a connection is made, her reading pace slows, and like a switch has flipped, she begins crying.
I don’t feel the slightest impatience when Kyōko-san starts to cry—just relief. If she had refused to believe the book, this meeting would have been for nothing. The girl’s goodbye wouldn’t have reached her, and my other goal would have failed.
While Kyōko-san reads, I finish two cups of coffee. I order her an orange juice, and she drinks from the glass without a word.
As I wait, I don’t think of the girl. Instead, I think about what I can do with what she gave me. Since I’m only used to thinking about myself in isolation, it doesn’t come easy, and time passes quickly as I try.
At some point, I notice the daylight has begun to fade. I haven’t found any more concrete answers than I had the night before. Things that come naturally to other people are difficult for me.
Kyōko-san’s face is a teary mess, and a pile of damp tissues sits on the table. She is about halfway through the book when she starts to close it. I do the same thing as the girl’s mother did yesterday.
“There’s more,” I say.
Kyōko-san already looks tired from crying, but she reads through the end before closing the book, this time for real. She begins weeping, loudly, oblivious to the people around us, and I stay with her, as the mother did for me. Kyōko-san calls out her friend’s name, Sakura, Sakura, over and over.
She cries even longer than I did the day before, and before she’s stopped, she looks up at me, her eyes every bit as hostile as before.
“Why?” she says with a raspy voice. “Why keep it from me?”
“It’s like she said, she—”
“Not her. You! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Taken aback by her anger, I can’t find any response. Any words I might possibly say wither away beneath her messy, yet deadly-sharp glare.
“If you’d told me… If you’d only said something, I could have had more time with her. I would have quit volleyball. I would have quit school! I could have been with her…”
Now I understand the source of her anger.
“I’ll never forgive you,” she says. “I don’t care how important you were to her, or how much she needed you, or even if she loved you. I’ll never forgive you.”
She hides her face again and her tears begin falling to the floor. In this moment, a tiny part of me is ready to accept her hating me, just as I would have before. She can hate me, I don’t mind. But I shake my head. No. That’s not who I need to be.
I resolve myself to speak, even as her head hangs low.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I would like you to forgive me, even if it takes a long time.”
Kyōko-san says nothing.
I push aside my nervousness and somehow continue.
“And…if it’s all right with you…I…”
She isn’t looking at me.
My throat tightens, and my heart seems to stop as I say something I’ve never said to anyone before.
“I would like to be your friend.”
I try steadying my breath. The effort takes all of my focus, leaving me no way to gauge her reaction.
She’s still silent.
“I’m not asking because she wanted me to. This is my choice. I want us to get along. I want to get along with you.”
Nothing.
“Or is that…just not possible?”
I don’t know how else to ask. So now, I stay quiet. Silence falls between us.
I’ve never felt so nervous waiting for another person’s answer. All my thoughts remain on myself, selfishly so, as I wait for her to respond. Eventually, still looking down, she shakes her head several times, stands, and leaves without looking at me.
As I watch her leave, it’s my turn to hang my head.
I failed.
My bill has come due, I realize. I’ve spent my entire life never trying to interact with other people, and this is the cost.
I mutter to myself, “This is hard.”
Or maybe not to myself—to the girl.
I pick up the book from the table, put it back in my bag, and clean up the accumulated trash before stepping outside into the darkness.
What should I do next? I feel as if I’m trapped in a maze with no exit. From the maze, I can look up and see the sky. I can see there’s an outside, but I can’t get there.
What a tangled problem. How amazing that other people can navigate and solve these kinds of issues on a daily basis.
I ride my bicycle back home.
Summer vacation is almost over.
This is one assignment I know I won’t be finishing before school starts again.
Ten
With the end of summer school yesterday, my summer vacation truly begins today. Spurred onward by the cicadas ceaselessly droning at my backside, I climb the stone steps.
The day is exceptionally hot, with the sun blazing, its light assaulting me from above and reflecting off the rocks to attack from below. My T-shirt is already drenched.
No, I’m not punishing myself out of some self-inflicted penance.
A girl walking ahead looks over her shoulder at me and grins. I’m drenched in sweat and out of breath.
She says, “Do you always gotta be such a wuss?”
The remark annoys me, and I consider making a rebuttal, but I decide to wait until I have my breath back. For now, I focus on getting up these stairs as quickly as I can.
Having no trouble herself, she claps twice and says, “C’mon, you can do it.” From her expression, I can’t tell if she’s cheering me on or taunting me.
When we finally reach the top, I wipe myself down with a towel and mount my defense.
“I’m different from you,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re a guy. If you can’t keep up with me, that’s sad.”
“Look, we of noble birth have no need to exert ourselves.”
“I’m sure the nobles can do just fine.”
I take a plastic tea bottle from my backpack and gulp the liquid down. The girl keeps briskly walking ahead. I follow her, and after a little while the hillside trees fall away to reveal a beautiful view over our city.
She spreads her arms and says, “This feels great!”
Between the view and the wind, it does feel great. As the breeze dries my sweat, I take another drink of tea to fortify myself.
I say, “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”
“That’s the spirit! Here, I’ll reward you with some candy.”
“Do you two think I exist solely on candy and gum?”
I’m reminded of my other friend, the guy who keeps offering me gum in school.
She says, “I
can’t help it if I happen to carry some candy in my pocket. Just take it.”
Grumbling, I accept the candy and put it in my pocket, where it joins several of its companions.
She hums a tune as she walks with lively steps, and I trudge along behind her, until I suddenly feel conscious of our imbalance of strength. I force my head high and my shoulders back.
Square stones replace the dirt path, and we arrive at our destination. Among the rows of stone monuments, we find the one we seek.
She says, “Okay, you’re on water duty, Haruki. Go bring us some, would you?”
“Two points. First, what duty are you on, and second, why don’t we just go together?”
“Quit whining. I gave you candy, didn’t I?”
I can’t believe her nerve, but I also know any further protests will be useless. I quietly set down my things and walk to a nearby water spigot, where wooden buckets and ladles are ready. I take one of each and fill the bucket from the tap. When I return to the girl’s side, she’s looking up at the sky.
“Thanks,” she says, adding archly, “That must have been hard.”
“If you think so, then you should have helped.”
“I would have, but you see, I’m of noble birth, so…”
“Yeah, yeah. Here you go, m’lady.”
I hand her the bucket and ladle. She respectfully takes them and roughly flings the purifying waters onto the Yamauchi’s family grave. Droplets splash off the stone and splatter on my cheek. The gravestone, shiny with water, reflects the sunlight and takes on a sacred quality.
She shouts, “Hey, Sakura, wake up!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you’re supposed to do…any of that.”
Not paying any attention to what I said, she continues splashing the water onto the gravestone until the last drop is gone. She looks like she’s feeling good, working up a sweat, and for a moment, I wonder if this is some sort of sport I’d never heard of.
She asks, “When you put your hands together in front of a grave, are you supposed to, like, clap?”
“Normally, no. But for her, I think we should.”
We stand in front of her grave and clap our hands once. Getting along together, we close our eyes and pray for her to hear our thoughts.
After a long prayer, we open our eyes at almost the same time and place our offerings.
She asks, “Should we go to her house now?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Fair warning—her mother and I are going to lecture the crap out of you today.”
“What?” I say incredulously. “I can’t think of a single reason why.”
“There’s so many reasons, I hardly know where to start.” She holds up a finger. “Oh, how about how it’s summer of your senior year and you’re just coasting, too cocky to study at all.”
“Hey, I’m smart, I don’t need to study.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
Her wisecrack disappears into the blue summer sky, while my thoughts are on the last time I went to the Yamauchi’s house. The last time I was there, I met her older brother, and he shared stories with me.
Returning from my memories, I say, “This will be my first time going over there with someone else.”
“Yeah, you’re going to be hearing about that, too.”
We exchange a pointless but fun back-and-forth, and this time, we return the bucket and ladle together. We return to the gravesite, and I announce, “We’re going over to your house,” and start back the way we came. I’m not thrilled by the idea of walking that path again, but all that’s left to do here is exchange a pointless but fun back-and-forth, and that just wouldn’t be productive.
On the way back, as on the way here, I follow after Kyōko-san.
***
I put my hands together and close my eyes.
My thoughts are my own, and I send them to you.
Forgive me for my thoughts now. For my prayers.
I’m going to start with a complaint, because that’s what I do.
This hasn’t been easy. This isn’t as easy as you said; as it was for you.
Interacting with other people isn’t easy.
It’s hard. It really is.
That’s why this has taken me a year, although I admit I’m partly to blame.
But I made my choices, and I’ve come this far now. I hope that you’ll approve.
One year ago, I made a choice to become a person like you—a person who could get to know others; someone capable of love.
I don’t know if I’m there yet, but at least I made that choice.
After this, I’m going to your house together with your best friend—my first friend.
I wish it was the three of us going, but that’s not possible now. I’ll just do what I can. We’ll have to save that get-together for heaven.
If you’re wondering why your best friend and I are going to your house when you’re not there, I’m fulfilling a promise I made to your mother almost a year ago.
What took me so long, you ask? That’s what Kyōko-san said to me, too.
I have an excuse. The life I’ve led left me unequipped with the knowledge of certain things, like at what point you can call someone your friend.
And I believed taking Kyōko-san to your house wouldn’t count until we had become friends.
The only other relationship I could measure against was the one you and I shared.
After Kyōko-san told me she would never forgive me, we walked the path toward friendship one step at a time. The path was new to me, and even though she’s not a patient person, she patiently waited for me despite my faltering footsteps. I’m deeply thankful for her. She’s my best friend, although of course I’d never tell her that.
That’s where things stood when I took her to the place you and I went a year ago—although Kyōko-san and I didn’t stay overnight. That’s when I told her about the promise I made to your mother, and she got mad at me for not telling her sooner.
My friend does have a temper.
I’m leaving you a present I bought on that trip.
You’ll recognize it—it’s made from plums near the god of education’s home.
You’re still only eighteen, but I’ll look the other way. I tried a little—just a taste test—and it’s good stuff.
I hope you like it.
Kyōko-san is doing well. I guess you probably know that.
I am, too. So much better than before I met you.
After you died, I thought I’d been born to meet you.
But I didn’t believe your life’s purpose was to be needed by me.
Now, I think about us differently.
I believe our lives brought us to be together.
We weren’t enough on our own.
Our purpose was to provide what the other was missing.
At least, that’s how I’ve been thinking lately.
And now that you’re gone, I need to learn how to stand on my own.
That’s what I can do to honor the complete person we became together.
I’ll come back to visit you again. I don’t know what happens to people’s souls when they die, so I’ll repeat all this to your photograph in your house. If you don’t hear me either time, I’ll tell you in heaven.
Bye for now.
…
Oh, one more thing. I almost forgot. There’s something I never admitted to you.
I told you a lie.
In your book, you admitted how you cried, what you felt about me, and the lies you told. In the interest of fairness, I’ve decided I’d admit something to you.
Are you ready?
Do you remember how I told you about my first crush? That was a lie.
The girl who added “-san” to everything? I made her up.
I was going to tell you, but you seemed so moved by my story, I couldn’t do it.
Maybe I’ll tell you the real answer the next time we meet.
And if another girl like my true first crush
comes into my life again…
Maybe that time, I’ll eat her pancreas.
***
We descend the staircase, its white stone steps glittering under the harsh light of the relentless sun.
Ahead of me, Kyōko-san hums a song as her gym bag swings from her shoulder.
I catch up to my happy friend. Walking beside her, I name the song.
She looks embarrassed and thwaps me on the shoulder.
I laugh, then I look to the sky and say a thought just as it enters my mind.
“Let’s be happy.”
“Is that your way of confessing your love for me? On the way back from Sakura’s grave? Tacky.”
“Certainly not. I’m talking about in a bigger sense.” I grin. Taunting the girl who forgave me when others never could have, I add, “Besides, unlike some other guy, I’m into the quieter types.”
I immediately realize my mistake. But immediately is too late, and Kyōko-san tilts her head with suspicion. I swear I can see the question mark appear above her.
“Unlike what other guy?”
“Um, nope. Never mind that. I didn’t say anything.”
She watches me as I go through the rare experience of being flustered, and she thinks for a moment. Then the edges of her lips curl up, and she claps her hands. The clap makes a pleasant echo off the rocks, even if her smile is anything but.
I shake my head and plead, “Listen, I really didn’t mean to say that, so if you could just not tell him…”
“If you had more friends, I might not have known who it was. But really, him? Huh. I thought he was more into the quiet types.”
I thought so, too. After all, he’d told me so himself. I don’t know if his tastes changed, or if he’d been lying in the first place. It doesn’t really matter which, but for now I send him my sincere apologies. Sorry; next time, I’ll give you the gum.
Meanwhile, Kyōko-san is still smirking and muttering the occasional, “Huh,” and “Hmmm.”
I ask, “Are you glad?”
“Well, you know, it doesn’t feel bad to be liked by someone.”
“That’s good,” I say, for everyone involved, including my blundering self.
