by Hiro Arikawa
‘No can do. My mum is allergic to any animal with fur. What about yours, Satoru?’
‘We’re in company housing and they don’t allow pets.’
Chikako, who was still carping at the police officer, turned around. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘We’ll keep him at ours.’
‘Are you sure you can make that decision right now? Shouldn’t you ask your parents or something?’
Satoru seemed alarmed by her snap decision, but Chikako just glared at him in irritation.
‘Well, we can’t just leave him here!’
Chikako called home from the payphone in the lobby. Almost an hour later, her father pulled up at the station in his small truck. They loaded her bike on to the truck bed, and Chikako got into the passenger seat and held the Shih Tzu on her lap.
‘Okay, see you soon!’ she called. ‘Satoru, if you’re worried about him, you can come and visit him at my place!’
‘Ah – thanks.’
Satoru seemed a bit intimidated by Chikako’s forceful manner.
Then Chikako was gone, like a storm departing, and the boys burst out laughing.
‘That Sakita-san is really something.’
‘She sure is. She’s always had strong views when it comes to animals, ever since she was little.’
‘Have you known her since she was a kid?’ Satoru wanted to know.
‘We’re childhood friends,’ Sugi explained.
‘I get it,’ Satoru said, nodding. ‘So that’s why Sakita-san calls you Shu-chan?’
‘I told her to drop that.’
‘What’s wrong with it? She’s your cute, dependable childhood friend.’
The way he’d casually called her cute startled Sugi. Chikako was spirited, kind and, yes, cute. He’d always known that. Still, Sugi had never spoken about these things out loud.
It made him feel like he’d lost out.
‘But will her family really be okay about taking in an unknown dog without any warning?’ Satoru asked.
‘It’ll be fine. Her family are mad about animals. They have five or six dogs and cats already.’
‘Really? Cats, too?’
‘Chikako’s more of a cat person.’
‘I see,’ Satoru said, smiling. ‘I love cats, too. I wouldn’t mind making sure the Shih Tzu’s okay, but it would be nice to see her cats, too.’
Sugi was hit by another wave of anxiety. It was clear Satoru and Chikako were going to get on well.
That evening, Chikako phoned Sugi. The fact that he had missed taking the exam in order to rescue the dog had made an impression on her.
‘By the way,’ she asked, ‘which one of you found it?’
Sugi wished he’d been the one who’d come across the dog – the thought of saying this had crossed his mind. But if I had, I probably would have just let him be. Perhaps the most I would have done would have been to check on him on the way home.
‘Well, we were both passing at about the same time.’
A little white lie.
‘But I think Satoru actually spotted him first,’ he added hastily.
‘We haven’t spoken much up till now, but Satoru’s a pretty good guy.’
Chikako seemed to like Satoru a lot. He had known she would.
The three of them often talked together after this. And Satoru and Sugi often went to Chikako’s house to see how the Shih Tzu was settling in.
Whenever Sugi went to see Chikako, he’d be put to work helping out in the orchards, as would Satoru. From the way he spoke, Satoru seemed like a real city boy, but he was, surprisingly, used to farm work, and Chikako’s family quickly grew fond of him.
The stray Shih Tzu’s owner never did materialize, so the Sakita family ended up keeping him permanently. Satoru felt badly about it and said he’d try to find somebody to take the dog, but Chikako waved this away.
The younger Shih Tzu they already had got on with the new one – they were like parent and child – and, typically for Chikako, she referred to the latter as ‘the Shih Tzu Miyawaki gave us’.
The cats at the Sakitas’ were friendlier to Satoru than to Sugi. They had, from the start, sensed that Sugi was more of a dog person. Things evened out, though, since the dogs were much friendlier to him than to Satoru. ‘The Shih Tzu Miyawaki gave us’, perhaps remembering how Satoru had been the one to chase him down, was friendlier to Sugi than to Satoru, who had found him.
One day at school, Satoru was leafing through the part-time jobs listings in the newspaper. The end-of-term exams were approaching, and their teachers had joked with them not to pick up any more stray dogs.
‘Are you looking for a holiday job?’ Sugi asked.
‘Yeah … I was wondering if there’re any with a decent hourly rate.’
‘How come? Isn’t your allowance enough?’
‘No, it’s just that I want to take a trip during the summer holiday, and I’d like to go as soon as possible.’
‘Where to?’
‘Kokura.’
Sugi didn’t know the place.
‘It’s in Fukuoka prefecture. Just before Hakata,’ Satoru explained.
Sugi knew exactly where he meant, but couldn’t understand why Satoru would want to go there, instead of to Hakata, which was much larger.
‘I have some distant relatives there,’ Satoru explained. ‘They took in our cat when we couldn’t have him any more. I haven’t been to see him at all since then.’
I see, Sugi thought. It’s not Kokura he wants to visit, but a cat.
‘Why couldn’t you keep it?’
He asked this casually, but Satoru gave a troubled smile. He seemed unsure how to respond, and Sugi was just thinking that maybe he should change the subject when a shadow loomed over them.
‘I heard, I heard.’ Laughing her usual audacious laugh, it was Chikako.
‘Man, you’re always sticking your nose into things, aren’t you?’ Sugi teased her.
‘Shut it,’ she shot back. ‘I know exactly how you feel – wanting to visit your beloved cat. I’ll pitch in and help!’
‘Do you know where I can get work?’ Satoru asked.
‘And where you can begin this very weekend!’ Chikako answered.
‘Really? If there’s a job that good, then tell me about it, too.’ Sugi had been starting to think about finding a summer job himself.
‘Having a part-time job during term time is prohibited, but there is an exception: “This shall not apply to helping out with a family business.” And if it’s helping with a classmate’s family business, if you apply, you can get permission to work just at the weekends. They consider it part of social studies.’
In short, she was telling Satoru he could work in her family’s orchard.
‘The pay isn’t much, but I’ll ask them to pay you weekly, so if you start work now, you should be able to go on your trip at the beginning of August.’
Satoru stood up, so excited he nearly kicked over his chair.
The crop was ready to harvest and a lot of customers were coming to pick fruit in their orchard. Sugi joined them to work there on Sundays, except during exam time. The hourly wages were even less than working in a small supermarket, but by the time the school closing ceremony was over, Satoru had been able to put away about 20,000 yen.
‘What are you going to use your money for, Shu-chan?’ Chikako asked.
‘I haven’t thought about it.’
Which wasn’t exactly true. ‘Hey, do you want to go and see a film?’ he said, trying to make it sound as if he’d just come up with the idea.
‘Your treat?’ As he expected, she leapt at the idea.
‘Okay. I mean, you did get me the job and all.’
‘Great! Maybe I’ll sponge a meal off you as well.’
Only just managing not to physically jump for joy, smiling, Sugi said, ‘Okay, okay.’
‘Great. You weren’t joking, were you? Don’t you dare change your mind later on!’
Chikako, totally thrilled that Sugi would be footing the bi
ll, certainly wasn’t viewing this as a date. But for now that was okay.
There was no need to rush things.
On the first day of the last week of July, Satoru failed to show up for work.
It wasn’t like him – he was always so conscientious – and he hadn’t even been in touch to explain his absence. Sugi wondered what was up.
Satoru turned up an hour late.
‘I’m very sorry I’m late,’ he said, his face pale and stiff.
‘If you don’t feel well, you should take some time off,’ Chikako’s father said, but Satoru insisted he was fine.
At lunchtime, Chikako’s parents told the three of them to come back to the house. Satoru was looking paler than ever.
‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’ they asked. But again, he obstinately insisted it was nothing, and wouldn’t say any more.
Chikako, silently watching, spoke up. ‘Has something happened to your old cat?’
Satoru’s lips tightened. He dropped his head and screwed up his eyes. Finally he allowed the tears to flow.
‘He was hit by a car,’ he muttered, his voice broken, and then he couldn’t say anything more. It seemed he’d just got the news that morning.
‘You were really fond of that cat, weren’t you?’ Chikako said, putting her arm around his shoulders, to which Satoru murmured back, ‘He was family.’
Why had he been forced to give him away? When Sugi had asked him earlier, he hadn’t responded. If the cat had been regarded as part of the family, it was even more puzzling.
If he was this grief-stricken at the news, he shouldn’t have given the cat away in the first place, thought Sugi, somewhat uncharitably. Perhaps he was a bit jealous of the other two and their shared love of cats.
‘He was the cat we had back when my parents were still alive,’ said Satoru, which put Sugi in his place. God was punishing him, he figured, for having entertained a nasty thought about his poor friend.
‘… And you hoped to be in time to see him.’ Chikako’s kind words were so full of warmth.
Why am I such a low, mean person, when all I want is to be the kind of man Chikako won’t be ashamed of? thought Sugi.
He hadn’t realized that Satoru’s parents were dead.
But even if I had known, I would never have been as sympathetic as Chikako.
‘What are you going to do about the job? Will you carry on?’ asked Sugi.
Beside him, Chikako gave him a Really? Now? type of look.
‘There’s no point in going to Kokura now,’ Satoru said, and gave a faint smile.
Chikako interrupted him. ‘You really should go. Save up your money and go over there to say goodbye.’
Satoru blinked in surprise.
‘You have to mourn your cat properly, or you won’t get over it. Don’t just sit here fretting about being too late. Go there and mourn him. Tell him you’re sorry you didn’t make it in time, that you wanted to see him.’
Sugi knew very well how deeply these words resonated with Satoru, because even he, who’d thought those mean things, was starting to tear up.
Satoru smiled, and decided to get back to work.
Towards the end of the summer holidays, Satoru set off on his trip.
When he came back again, he looked like he’d put the past to rest.
He’d brought back some souvenirs for Sugi and Chikako. For Sugi, some Hakata ramen he’d asked for, and for Chikako, for some reason, he brought back some blotting paper and a hand mirror he’d bought in Kyoto.
‘Wow! This paper is Yojiya!’
Apparently, it was some famous cosmetics brand, and Chikako was ecstatic. A friend of hers called her over and she gave a hurried ‘Thank you!’ and rushed off.
‘So you stopped in Kyoto, too?’ Sugi asked, and Satoru nodded.
‘I was on an elementary-school trip to Kyoto when my parents were killed in a car accident. My mother had asked me to buy Yojiya blotting paper as a present for her. I looked all over but never managed to find it. A friend later managed to find some and bought it for me, but I never bought it myself.’
‘What about the hand mirror?’
‘I just thought that I’d like to buy that for Chikako.’
It hurt to hear all this.
Chikako should be the one to hear this. But Sugi didn’t want her to.
He began to wish it had been somebody else who’d run into Satoru the day they rescued the Shih Tzu.
He didn’t tell Chikako what Satoru had told him about Kyoto. He suppressed his guilty conscience by convincing himself that, if Satoru really wanted her to know, he’d tell her himself.
Now, he was constantly worried that he was losing his advantage of being Chikako’s childhood friend.
She was always calling Satoru by his last name, Miyawaki, while she always called Sugi ‘Shu-chan’.
Some time passed before he saw any significance in this.
If Chikako had known Satoru’s feelings, she would, no doubt, have been drawn to him.
Unlike himself, shamefully struggling to be the kind of man Chikako could be proud of, Satoru was already there.
And there was that terrible experience he’d been through as a child.
In spite of losing his parents so young, having his precious cat taken away from him, and now not being in time to see it again, Satoru blamed no one for his troubles, didn’t see any of it as unfair.
If it were him, Sugi would give himself over to the tragedy to make it work in his favour. He would make all sorts of lazy excuses, perhaps even exploit it to attract Chikako’s affections.
How could Satoru be so relaxed and natural? The more Sugi got to know him, the more he felt driven into a corner. Satoru was a rival he would never be able to beat.
He started to feel the lesser man despite his privileged upbringing, and though he had more to be thankful for than Satoru, he began to feel dissatisfied with life. He started arguing with his parents over nothing, saying malicious things, sometimes reducing his mother to tears.
I have everything I need in life, so why am I such a mean, small person? Why can’t I be kinder than Satoru, who has so much less?
Chikako, too, had been brought up like Sugi, never lacking a thing, yet she never felt like this when she was with Satoru. She seemed to naturally enjoy being with him. And this made Sugi feel even more cornered.
If things went on like this, he knew he was going to lose Chikako. And he had loved her for so much longer!
‘I wonder if Satoru has a special girl he likes.’
These words spilled out from Chikako one day when Satoru wasn’t with them.
It was the final blow. Sugi felt crushed.
Later, Sugi found himself saying, ‘I’ve always loved Chikako. Ever since we were kids.’
This confession was directed not at Chikako but at Satoru.
Sugi had expected that when Satoru heard this, he would put a lid on any feelings he himself might have for Chikako. He had deliberately confessed his feelings to Satoru, while pretending to seek his advice.
Satoru’s eyes opened wide in surprise and, after a moment’s silence, he smiled. ‘I get it.’
You do get it, right? You, of all people, should definitely get it.
Thus Sugi neatly stopped Satoru from declaring his feelings to Chikako, and in the end Satoru stepped aside without ever saying a word about them.
In the spring of their last year in high school, Satoru changed schools. His aunt, who was his guardian, often moved around with work.
Sugi was truly sad that his friend was leaving, but all the same felt a rush of relief. At the time, he felt, Now things will be okay.
‘HOW CAN YOU be such a good person when you’ve been so unlucky?’
Sugi was grumbling away before he realized what he was doing. It was the wine they’d opened at dinner. He had thought it was a good opportunity to treat Satoru to some local wine, so he’d bought some Ajiron red. This variety had a sweet fragrance and taste, and if you didn’t watch y
ourself it was easy to overdo it.
Chikako was out of the room having a bath, her absence another reason Sugi had let down his guard.
Satoru smiled wryly. ‘I don’t know if I’m a good person or not. But either way, I wasn’t unlucky.’
‘What are you talking about? Are you denying that life’s treated you unfairly, and trying to make me feel bad by not admitting it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. The wine must have gone to your head. Try sobering up a bit before Chikako finishes her bath.’ Satoru pulled the wine bottle out of Sugi’s reach.
WE CATS GET all limp and squishy when we have catnip; for humans, wine seems to do the trick.
Satoru would occasionally drink alcohol at home. He’d down a few while watching one of those games with balls that humans like – baseball or soccer – and start feeling happy, and soon tumble sideways on to the floor.
If I inadvertently passed near him, he’d grab me and hug me to his face, saying ‘Nana-cha–n’ in a syrupy voice, and I couldn’t stand it. So I tried to keep my distance. Plus he stank of alcohol.
There had been times when he drank away from the house and came back smelling of liquor, but he was always in a good mood. So I used to be convinced that when humans drank it always made them cheerful. Like catnip for cats.
I’d never encountered someone like Sugi, who got all gloomy and moody when he drank. When Chikako went to have a bath, he suddenly started pouting at Satoru, almost like he was cowering before him.
If drinking isn’t fun, then why do it? I was hanging off the top of the TV in the sitting room, eyeing the two men as they talked, until Satoru finally removed the bottle of wine from the table.
By the way, I became really fond of the TV there. Ours at home was thin and flat like a board, but the one there was more of a box, very enticing for a cat. Plus, it was faintly warm, and made my tummy feel toasty. Fantastic in the winter, I imagined.
It’s really old, Momo told me. In the past, all TVs were this shape, apparently. Going from this perfect design to an impractical flat shape is, if you ask me, a step backwards, technology-wise.
Momo told me that you could tell how old a cat was by whether or not they knew about these boxy TVs. In that house, Chikako gave priority to making things comfortable for cats and she dismissed the idea of getting one of the flat TVs. A splendid decision, in my opinion.