What do I do now? Why did I let him in here? Was it because I needed a friend?
20
She
Glowed
Under
the
Sun
Lying on her bed, Fumi thought of Ruri, her only friend from childhood, when she had still been living as a boy named Fumio Yanagi.
Fumio was thirteen when he first saw Ruri. They met during the school break.
That day, Fumio was sweeping the backyard. The cold weather had grown milder, and more people were coming to the shrine because of the holiday season. Ruri came out of nowhere, peeping out from the bushes and startling him.
“Visitors need to come in through the main entrance,” he said, pointing to it.
He thought she had gotten lost, but the girl only stared at him in silence. Sighing, he continued to sweep. What a weird girl.
The girl eventually came out from the bushes and squatted near Fumio. He was uncomfortable being stared at, but didn’t say anything out of politeness. Surely the girl’s parents would come to pick her up soon. But by the time he’d finished sweeping the entire yard, she was still there.
The days were short, and the sky was getting dark. A flock of birds fled from the trees, disappearing to the other side of the shrine.
“You should go home soon,” Fumio told the girl. “It’s getting late. Your parents will be anxious.”
She kept quiet. Was she deaf? Even so, she shouldn’t be ignoring him. Fumio walked away, leaving her on her own. At first, he was worried. What if her parents couldn’t find her? But then his mother called him for hot pot dinner, and he quickly forgot about the girl.
The next morning, he saw her again. This time she sat on the staircase at the porch behind the shrine.
“Good morning,” Fumio said, but she still didn’t respond. “I guess you’re deaf and mute?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not deaf or mute.”
“Then why didn’t you answer me yesterday?” He picked up his broom. “And you need to move aside. I need to sweep the staircase.”
The girl stood and jumped down to the backyard. “I was confused. No one has spoken to me in a while.”
He took another look at her. Wearing a white frilly dress, she looked just like any other girl in his class. Her bangs were swept to the left and secured with a flower clip. Her shoes looked worn. She wasn’t wearing any socks, despite the chilly weather. But by all measures, she looked fairly normal.
“I’m Ruri,” the girl said. “Do you want to be my friend?”
“Friend?” Fumio blurted out.
“Yes. Can we be friends?”
He quickly nodded. No one had ever asked him that.
“Good. Now, tell me your name.”
“I’m Fumio Yanagi.”
“Can I call you Fumio?”
He nodded again. He didn’t tell her she was the first person—apart from his family—to call him by his first name.
“Do you live here?” she asked.
Fumio started sweeping. “Yes, my father’s the priest here.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be a priest too?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“You don’t look like you want to.”
“Maybe not.”
Fumio knew he should have given her longer, more interesting answers and perhaps tried to ask some questions in return, but he was too nervous. He wasn’t used to conversations like this.
Ruri continued to ask questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
He paused. “We’re on break now. School is closed.”
“Oh.” She looked down. “I didn’t know.”
“You don’t go to school?”
The girl shook her head. “My parents said I don’t need to. They said I can study anywhere, even at home.”
“You’re so lucky. Mine won’t let me skip school, no matter how much I beg.”
Ruri looked at Fumio as if she was wondering why he would say a thing like that.
“You’re not missing much,” he continued. “Trust me.”
She sighed. “I always wanted to go to school. I want to make friends.”
Fumio tightened his grip on the broom. “School isn’t the place to make friends.”
“You don’t have friends?”
“Not really,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I don’t have many friends at school.” Or rather, any.
“Is that so,” she mumbled, then looked down. “What happened to your arm?”
Looking down, Fumio saw the blue-black marks on his right arm. Flustered, he covered them with his sleeve. “I fell down. Stop being so nosy!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but his voice came out that way.
Ruri’s eyes went wide. “Sorry,” she said.
Fumio felt bad for raising his voice at her, but he didn’t want her to know what had happened to him. Even years later, when Fumi Yanagi thought of those early days at school, a shiver ran down her spine.
At that time, Fumio didn’t know that there were boys like him, ones who felt that they had been born the wrong gender. In his small neighborhood school, he was always alone. Others noticed he was different. They labeled him weird, awkward, incapable of fitting in, and whispered behind his back.
A group of six girls ruled Fumio’s class in high school, led by the skinniest and meanest among them, who always sported a designer bag. They would routinely single out a victim from their class, so all the students knew not to get into trouble with any of the girls.
Last year, they’d focused their energy on a quiet loner, though no one knew why. The group’s constant and vicious intimidation forced the girl out of the school. Rumor was that she had moved to another city after a failed suicide attempt. Everyone was afraid of them from then on.
Though Fumio had never spoken a word to any of these girls, the group soon chose him as their next target.
They bullied him every day, scribbling on his desk or tearing pages from his books during recess. When the skinny girl was in a bad mood, she would call Fumio to the rooftop after school. Armed with brooms and sticks, the six of them would beat him. On the few occasions when Fumio refused to follow the group upstairs, they beat him even harder in front of their classmates outside the school doors.
A few students laughed, though most averted their eyes, pretending not to see anything. No one dared to help. They didn’t want to be the next target.
On the rooftop, the girls often forced Fumio to strip down to his underwear. They hit him and kicked him before writing profanities on his bare skin with permanent markers. They laughed and mocked him until they grew tired, then left him on his own, sprawled on the ground.
After all of them left one day, Fumio slowly got up and gathered his clothes one by one. He prayed that everything would soon be over.
At times like this, he would look up at the clear, blue sky. How nice it would be to go up there. Then he looked down to the field, where the baseball team was playing a game. Not far off from them, the track and field team was doing their daily run.
Fumio grabbed the railing on the edge of the roof. The bar’s metal was warm, baked by the afternoon sun. What would happen if he just . . . jumped? Then he wouldn’t need to endure this pain any longer. But he couldn’t bring himself to make the leap. When he looked down over that railing, he froze, legs rooted to the ground.
Hanging his head, Fumio dragged himself home and slipped into the bathroom. He took his clothes off and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The black marker stood out sharply against his pale skin. He had to rub these off before his family saw.
Turning on the tap, he grabbed a wet sponge and scrubbed his skin so hard, it turned raw and red. His vision blurred with tears.
This will stop soon, he told himself over and over, cl
enching his teeth. They’ll eventually get bored and leave me alone. He wept silently in a wooden bath overflowing with hot water.
Those days, Fumio hated going to school. He really didn’t know what he had ever done to offend those girls.
Their leader, the one who usually initiated the beating, always looked at him with disgust in her eyes. Fumio had never spoken to her prior to the day she had first called him up to the rooftop. He replayed his interactions with the rest of them over and over, wondering what he had done to deserve this treatment, but couldn’t think of an answer.
At least he didn’t need to interact with those girls during the term break, but it was only temporary relief.
“Can you wait here?” Fumio asked Ruri after he’d finished sweeping. “I need to go inside for a while.”
She nodded, and he went into the building. He fetched a pail of water and a washcloth. When he returned, she was leaning against the wooden pillar. Her skin was fair, almost glowing under the sun.
Ruri turned to Fumio. “You’re back.”
He put down his stuff. “I still need to mop the platform.” He dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out. “Do you live around here?”
“Yes, my house is just a few blocks away.” She tilted her head. “Am I disturbing you?”
He shook his head. “No. But aren’t your parents worried? You’ve been away from them for a while.”
“They aren’t,” she said, speaking softly. “They’re used to it already.”
Fumio wondered if Ruri had family issues. Maybe her parents were busy with work and left her alone all the time. He wanted to ask, but he knew better than to meddle in other people’s affairs.
“You should go home soon,” Fumio said, spreading the washcloth. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“I’ll wait until you’re done,” Ruri insisted.
Fumio shrugged. He knelt down and pushed the cloth from one end to the other. Ruri stood in the same spot the whole time, looking at the sky. What was she thinking? But he didn’t ask. Perhaps she wasn’t normal, like him, just better at concealing it.
Fumio Yanagi had never been good at blending in. Each time he was assigned to a new class, he tried his best to engage with his classmates. Act normal. Look normal. Pretend you’re completely ordinary. But somehow, they knew he was putting up a front, and he always ended up alone. At least, until those six girls had turned their attention to him. He would have preferred to remain by himself, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
The wind rustled the trees. The branches swayed, and more dried leaves fell onto the ground. Fumio would have to sweep again in the afternoon. He looked over at Ruri. She was still gazing at the sky, the wind having messed up her hair. Stray strands covered her face, but she didn’t seem bothered by them. She turned to Fumio.
“Can I come back later?” she asked.
He nodded. “The shrine is open to the public every day. Anyone can come in.” What a silly answer, but he’d been unable to think of anything better to say.
They parted ways after Fumio finished his first cleaning shift.
And Ruri did return later that day, and the day after, and the day after that. She came to the shrine every day, standing around as Fumio did his chores. Even though they didn’t talk much, he enjoyed her company. He secretly wished his school break would never end.
Pouring chopped onions into the pan, Fumi heard footsteps behind her. Eiji’s up, she thought, feeling tense.
“That smells good, Fumi-nee,” he said. “What are you making?”
“Just soft-boiled eggs with vegetables,” she said. “Why don’t you wash up? Then we can have breakfast together.”
He yawned. “I’m not hungry. I had a big dinner last night.”
“But I already cooked for you.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t have an appetite.”
She clicked her tongue. “Fine then. I’ll have your portion. Don’t come crawling to me when you get hungry later.”
Fumi took a plate, putting ketchup and mayonnaise on the side. Settling at the dining table, she grazed the steaming soft-boiled eggs with her knife. Their yolk spilled onto the plate.
“I love runny eggs,” Fumi said, scooping up a bite.
Eiji looked over at her from the sofa.
“Are you sure you don’t want breakfast? I never see you eat,” she said.
“I eat when you’re at work,” he said. “I’m not much of a breakfast person, but thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate it.”
Eiji rested his head on the arm of the sofa. Fumi took another good look at him. He was definitely much younger than her, perhaps around Ryu’s age. He wasn’t tan, so he was probably a city kid. He didn’t have an accent, so it was hard to tell which prefecture he came from. He sounded like just about any other Tokyo youth.
“How did you meet Kenji?” Fumi asked.
“He’s a friend of a friend,” Eiji said. “Are you not working today, Fumi-nee?”
She saw right through his attempt to change the topic. “No, I’m free today. Why don’t you tell me a bit about your and Kenji’s mutual friend?”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“No particular reason. I have some time, and you almost never talk about yourself. So tell me your story. I’m listening.”
“Oh, really?” He smiled, showing off his dimples. “Why do I feel like it’s you who wants to say something?”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured at her plate. “You barely ate your breakfast.”
Only then did Fumi realize she had been absentmindedly holding her cutlery above her plate. Putting it down, she looked straight into his eyes.
“The game’s up,” she said. “I know you’re not a friend of Kenji’s.”
There was a swift but tiny change in Eiji’s expression. He hid it well, almost like he’d been expecting it. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve never met Kenji. You didn’t recognize him in one of those photographs yesterday, even when I pointed right at him.”
Eiji went silent for a moment. “The photograph of the orphanage, wasn’t it? He must have been one of the volunteers.”
“You’re quick.” Fumi picked up her spoon and took another scoop of egg. “What should I do now? Kick you out?”
“This is your apartment. The choice is yours.”
“Are you not even going to try to explain yourself?”
He laughed. “What is there to explain? My cover’s blown, that’s all. Yes, I’ve only heard of Kenji. I’ve never met him. You figured it out, Fumi-nee. Have you ever considered a career as a private investigator?”
Fumi was surprised at Eiji’s lack of protest. Or rather, disappointed.
“You shouldn’t confront a man when you’re alone, Fumi-nee,” Eiji said. “What if I reacted violently?”
She lifted her head. “You should know by now that I’m not like other women. I’m not intimidated by you.”
“Yes, you’re right. You’re not the average woman.”
Fumi felt a familiar ache. She thought she’d gotten used to it, but she hadn’t.
“You’re a superwoman, right?” he continued. “You hold two jobs and take care of the house all by yourself. You still have time to keep a pet . . . Wait, two pets.”
She rubbed the nape of her neck.
“You’re an awesome woman, Fumi-nee, and I’m sorry for lying to you and taking advantage of your kindness. But trust me, when I say that I think of you as a friend, I really mean it.”
Hearing those words made Fumi flushed. Her cheeks felt warm. Not wanting Eiji to see her reaction, she stood and grabbed her handbag.
“Where are you going, Fumi-nee?” he asked.
“Work,” she answered without looking at him.
“I thought you said you didn’t have w
ork today?”
Fumi reached for the doorknob. “I changed my mind.”
21
New Love
Is the
Best Cure
for a
Broken
Heart
Fumi stopped in front of a convenience store. Colorful posters advertising promotions covered the glass panels. She pushed open the door. In a daze, she wandered to the sweets aisle. Rows of bubble gum, candies, chocolates, and crackers were lined up neatly on the shelves, some decorated with images of famous cartoon characters. Each package burst with color, vying for her attention.
Why was she here?
A moment ago, she had planned to confront Eiji and kick him out. Instead, she found herself running away. She turned to the refrigerated drinks section, running her fingers along the bottled soda, canned coffee, and boxes of fruit juices. Then she stopped at the milk pudding. Fumi started to chuckle, though she didn’t know why. Get ahold of yourself, Fumi, she thought. But she couldn’t stop. She laughed until she started to tear up.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
The store assistant, a girl who looked like she was still in her teens, stared at her.
“I’m fine,” Fumi said. “Just remembered something silly. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
The girl smiled politely. “Of course not.”
Clearly a lie. She’d been looking at Fumi like she’d lost her mind.
“Would you like a basket for your purchase?” the girl offered.
“No, I just . . .” Fumi reached for two packs of milk pudding. “I’ve got what I want.”
She went to the cashier and paid. Leaving the convenience store, Fumi felt the weight of the pudding in the plastic bag. It swung slightly in her hand with every step she took. She deliberately slowed down her steps, wondering if she should go back home or perhaps to the studio. If she were to stop at the warehouse, she should have brought Tama’s canned food with her. Probably home, then. But she didn’t know what she would do if Eiji was still there.
The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida Page 19