Abruptly, my ears catch familiar voices. Feeling a bad premonition like a faint ripple, I raise my eyes ever so slightly.
Curses.
I want to explode and take the shrine with me. I knew it: It’s my three flashy “in-crowd” classmates. They’re watching me with smirks on their faces and gleefully gossiping about something. There’s too much distance between us for me to really hear them but I feel as though I’m hearing them loud and clear. Eeeeee, I could never, ever do that! and That’s kinda obscene, and Man, how can she do that in public? Nobody’s ever gonna marry her now.
I make a very, very firm resolution:
When I graduate, I am leaving this town and going far away.
“Cheer up, Sis. Who cares if people from your school saw you? And anyway, what’s got you so shook up?”
“It must be nice being a carefree, prepubescent little kid!”
I glare at Yotsuha. We’ve changed into T-shirts and just left the shrine office entrance.
After the harvest festival, to close out the night, the two of us attended a banquet for the local men and women who helped with the festival. Gran was the hostess, and Yotsuha and I poured sake and made conversation.
“How old are you now, li’l Mitsuha? What?! Seventeen?! I see… Havin’ a sweet young thing like you pour for me makes me feel young again.”
“Yessir, go on and roll the years way back! Here, go ahead—drink some more!”
We entertained almost desperately, wore ourselves out, and they finally turned us loose just now, saying, “You kids can go on home.” Gran and the other adults are still at the shrine office, carrying on with the banquet.
“Yotsuha, do you know what the average age was back there, in the office?”
On the grounds, all the lights on the shrine approach are out, and the cool sounds of insect songs echo all around us.
“I dunno. Sixty?”
“I did the math in the kitchen. It was seventy-eight. Seventy-eight!”
“Huh.”
“Now that we’re gone, it’s ninety-one in there! They’re pushin’ a hundred. They’re in the final stage of life. The underworld might send a reaper for the whole place!”
“Hmm…”
What I’m trying to get at is that we should bail on this town ASAP, but Yotsuha’s response is terse. She seems preoccupied with something else. Well, she’s just a little kid. She wouldn’t understand her big sister’s agony. Giving up, I look at the sky. The vast expanse of it is filled with dazzling bright stars, shining transcendentally, as if human lives on Earth are none of their concern.
“…That’s it!”
As we descend the shrine’s long stone stairway, side by side, Yotsuha suddenly cries out. She’s wearing a triumphant expression, as if having found a cake someone hid from her.
“Sis, why don’t you chew up a whole bunch of that sake and use it to pay your way to Tokyo?!”
For a moment, I’m speechless.
“…You’ve got quite the mind to come up with that.”
“You could send snapshots and ‘makin’ of’ documentary videos with it and call it ‘Shrine Maiden Sake’ or somethin’! I bet that’d sell!”
Should I be worried that my nine-year-old sister sees the world like that? Still, I realize Yotsuha is actually concerned about me, in her own way. Aw, she really is cute, I think, a little more fondly than before. Okay then, maybe I’ll give this sake business idea some serious thought… Wait, can you just sell sake on your own like that?
“Well? What do you think, Sis?”
“Hmm…”
…And that’s all I have to say.
“…Wait, no! It’d be against the liquor laws!”
Wait, was that the problem? I wonder, and when I come back to myself, I’ve broken into a run. All sorts of incidents and feelings and prospects and doubts and despairs are jumbled together inside me, and it feels like my heart’s about to explode. I run down the steps, taking them two at a time, slam on the brakes under the torii gate on the landing, and suck in a huge lungful of chilly night air. Then I expel the cluttered mess in my chest along with it.
“I’m sick of this town! I’m sick of this life! Make me a hot guy in Tokyo in my next life, puhleeeease!”
Eeease. Eeease. Eeease. Eeease…
My wish echoes around the dark mountains, then disappears as though drawn into Itomori Lake below me. The words came out on impulse, and they’re so dumb, my head cools right down, as does my sweat.
Oh, but even so.
Gods, if you’re really there…
Please—
Even if the gods really do exist, I still don’t know what to wish for.
Chapter Three
Days
I don’t recognize that ringtone, I think drowsily.
An alarm? But I’m still sleepy. And you know what, I’m going right back to sleep. Eyes still shut, I grope for the smartphone I know I put beside my futon.
Huh?
I reach farther. Grr, that alarm is so noisy. Where’d I put it?
“—Ow!”
My back hits the floor with an emphatic thud. Apparently, I’ve managed to fall out of bed. Ow, ow, ow, ow… Wait, what? Bed?
I finally open my eyes and sit up.
Huh?
The room is completely unfamiliar.
And I’m in it.
Did I sleep over somewhere last night?
“…Where am I?”
The moment I murmur the words, I notice a strange heaviness in my throat. By reflex, I put a hand to it. The throat my fingers find is hard and angular. “Hmm?” My voice slips out again, and it’s really low. I look down at myself.
…They’re gone.
A T-shirt I’ve never seen before falls flat all the way to my stomach, and they’re not there.
My boobs are gone.
And right in the middle of my freakishly visible lower body, there’s…something. Something asserting its presence strongly enough to overwrite the feeling of wrongness precipitated by my missing boobs.
What is…this?
Slowly, I extend my hand, reaching for that area. All the blood in my body and all the skin over it is being pulled toward that one spot.
…Is this, um…? L-location-wise, it’s…
……………
…………
……
I touch it.
And very nearly pass out.
Who is this guy?
I’m gazing at a strange face in the mirror of a strange bathroom.
His slightly showy hairstyle brushes his eyebrows, apparently aiming for a casual/calculated ratio of about 6:4. The eyebrows are stubborn-looking, but his eyes are on the wide side and make him seem like a bit of a pushover. His chapped lips seem completely unacquainted with the concept of moisturizer, and his neck looks stiff. His cheeks are lean, with clean lines, and for some reason, there’s a big bandage on one of them. When I touch it gingerly, there’s a dull throb.
—But. Even though it hurts, I don’t wake up. My throat is bone-dry. I twist the faucet, fill my hands with tap water, and drink. It’s unpleasantly warm and smells like chemicals, like pool water.
“Taki, are you up?”
Abruptly, a man’s voice calls from somewhere in the distance, and I give a little shriek of alarm. Taki?
“Breakfast was your job today, kid. Remember? You overslept.”
Nervously, I peek into what looks like a living room. As he speaks, a middle-aged man in a suit glances at me, then immediately returns his attention to the dishes.
“I-I’m sorry!”
I apologize out of habit.
“I’m heading out. There’s miso soup—go ahead and finish it off.”
“Um, yessir.”
“And go to school. Even if you’re late.”
On that note, the man briskly piles up the dishes, puts them in the small kitchen, passes by me as I stand petrified in the doorway, goes to the foyer, dons his shoes, opens the door, steps out, and shuts it
behind him. It all happens so fast there’d have been barely enough time for a kite to call once.
“…What a weird dream,” I say out loud.
I take another look around the room. There are photos and design sketches of bridges and buildings and structures all over the walls. The floor is a careless mess of magazines and paper bags and cardboard boxes. Compared to the Miyamizu house, tidy as a venerable old Japanese inn (all thanks to Gran), this place seems wild and lawless. The room is really small—probably a condominium. If this is my dream, I have no idea where it came from, but I’m impressed by how real it seems. I guess I’ve got a pretty good imagination. Maybe I could be some kind of artist when I grow up.
Tweedle!
A text alert echoes from the depths of the hall with such impeccable timing that it seems like a comeback. Eep! I gasp, hastily dashing back to the room where the bed was. The smartphone’s on the floor beside the sheets, and there’s a short message on its screen.
Are you still home? Get over here, run! Tsukasa
Huh? What? What’s this? Who in the world is Tsukasa?!
At any rate, I guess I have to go to school. I scan the room. My eyes stop on a boy’s uniform hanging beside the window, and as I pick it up, I’m suddenly aware of another emergency.
Oh, for the love of…!
I need to pee.
Haaaaaah. I heave a sigh nearly strong enough to deflate my whole body.
What is wrong with guys’ bodies, anyway?!
I managed to do my business somehow, but I’m still shaking with anger. The harder I tried to pee, and the more I tried to aim it with my fingers, the more the thing changed shape and the harder it got to go. What’s up with that?! Are they stupid?! Are they idiots?! Or is this guy weird?! Arrrgh! I’d never even seen one of those before! And excuse me, but I’m technically a shrine maiden!
After I change into the uniform, keeping my head bent from the awful shame and fighting back tears (I can’t actually fight them all back, and a few slip out), I open the condo’s door. Well, for now, I’ll just go, I think, and raise my head.
—And then.
My eyes are riveted.
The view before me leaves me breathless.
I’m standing on the outside corridor of a high-rise condo that’s probably on a hill.
Below lies a generous carpet of greenery, like a large park. The sky is a vivid cerulean blue, without the slightest blemish. On the border between the blue and green, ranks of buildings of all sizes line up neatly, like extra-intricate origami. Each and every one is stamped with minute, exquisite windows like the mesh of a net. Some of the windows reflect blue, others are tinted green, and still others simply glitter in the morning sun. I can see a red tower, tiny with distance, and a silver building whose rounded lines remind me vaguely of a whale, and a shining black building that looks as though it’s been cut from a block of obsidian. I’m sure these buildings and several of the others are famous—even I recognize some of them. Far away, little toy cars flow in neat, orderly lines.
It’s the scenery of the biggest city in Japan, and compared with what I’d imagined, it’s— Actually, come to think of it, I’ve never really tried to visualize what it would be like before, but it’s much, much more beautiful than it looks in the movies and on TV. It hits me hard, right in the chest.
“Tokyo,” I murmur.
This world is far too dazzling. I inhale deeply and squint, as if looking at the sun.
“Hey, where’d you buy this?” “In Nishi-Azabu, on the way home from lessons.” “Guess who’s gonna be opening for their next big concert?” “Yo, wanna skip club today and go catch a movie?” “An agency employee is coming to the mixer tonight.”
Wh-what’s with these conversations? Are these people actually modern Japanese high schoolers? Maybe they’re just reading posts off some celebrity’s Facebook page?
I watch the classroom from where I’m standing, half-hidden behind the door, timing my entrance. I used my smartphone’s GPS to get here, and even then, I got incredibly lost. By the time I found the school, the lunch bell was already chiming away.
Still, this school— Glass windows that take up entire walls, bare concrete, colorful iron doors with round windows… It’s so abnormally fancy, I have to wonder whether it’s a World Expo venue or something. This Taki Tachibana guy, a boy my age, lives in a world like this? I think of his name, which I found in his student handbook, and his smug expression on his ID photo. They annoy me a little.
“Taaaki!”
“—!”
Somebody abruptly throws an arm around my shoulders from behind, and I give a wordless yelp. When I look, a bespectacled CEO-type (only neat and sophisticated) is smiling at me, close enough that our bangs are almost touching. Eeeeeek! ’Scuse me, mister—this is the closest I’ve ever been to a guy in my life!
“Look at you, showing up at noon. Let’s go eat.”
With that, the kid with glasses sets off down the hall, still hugging my shoulders. No, seriously, you’re way too close!
“Ignore my text, will you?” he accuses, but he doesn’t sound mad. Then I figure it out.
“…Excuse me… Wait, Tsukasa?”
“Ha-ha, ‘excuse me’? Do I detect a note of contrition?”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so for the moment, I quietly extricate myself from his arm.
“…You got lost?”
Takagi—a big, good-natured guy—shouts, not bothering to hide his astonishment.
“How the heck did you manage to get lost on the way to school?”
“Um…” I falter. The three of us are sitting in a corner of the wide rooftop. It’s supposed to be lunchtime right now, but there aren’t many people around. Maybe they’re avoiding the summer sun.
“Oh, um, ’scuse me—”
“‘’Scuse me’?”
Takagi and Tsukasa eye each other dubiously. Oops, that’s right: I’m Taki Tachibana now.
“Uh, I mean, um… Oh. Pardon me…?”
“Hunh?”
“Sorry……”
“Say what?”
“……Whatever?”
Uh-huh, they nod, still looking bewildered. I see, so he’s the “whatever” type. Got it!
“I was just enjoyin’ myself a little. Tokyo’s kinda like a festival. Real lively.”
“…What’s with the accent?” asks Takagi.
“Huh?!” I have an accent? I turn red.
“Taki, where’s your lunch?” Tsukasa prods.
“Huh?!!” I didn’t bring one!
As I hunt through my school bag, sweating bullets, they laugh. “Do you have a fever or something?”
“Tsukasa, you got anything?”
“Egg sandwich. Let’s stick that croquette of yours in here.”
Here. The two of them hand me the improvised egg-croquette sandwich. Their kindness touches my heart.
“Thank you…”
They both grin at me wordlessly. To think boys could be so stylish and kind…! No, Mitsuha, don’t do it! Don’t fall for both of them at once! —Well, no, I’m not falling for anybody, but Tokyo is fantastic, anyway!
“So listen, after class today, wanna go to that café again?” Takagi asks, and without thinking, I stare at him as he takes a bite of rice.
“Yeah, good idea,” Tsukasa replies. Taking a swig of water out of a plastic bottle, his throat works smoothly. Huh? What? Where did he say we were going?
“What about you, Taki? You’re coming, right?”
“Huh?!”
“To the café.”
“C-c-caféeeee?!”
The furrows between their eyebrows deepen, but I ignore it. My mood is soaring, and I can’t repress my excitement. This is it! Who’s laughing now, bus stop café?!
Two tiny dogs dressed in pop idol–style outfits are sitting on a wicker chair, watching me with eyes like candy drops and wagging their tails so hard they seem liable to come off. There’s an incredible amount of space between each table, a
nd fully half the customers are foreign. A third are wearing sunglasses, three-fifths are wearing hats, and not one is wearing a suit. There’s no telling what any of them do for a living.
What is this place? Adults go to cafés with their little dogs on weekdays, in broad daylight?!
“I like the timberwork on the ceiling.”
“Yeah. They put serious effort into that.”
Tsukasa and Takagi don’t seem the least bit intimidated by this supremely trendy space. They’re smiling and discussing their impressions of the interior. Apparently, these boys are touring different cafés because they’re interested in architecture. What kind of hobby is that?! Aren’t high school guys into magazines like MU?!
“Taki, do you know what you want?”
Prompted by Tsukasa, I stop dissecting the café and let my eyes fall to the heavy, leather-bound menu.
“…! I—I could live for a month on how much these pancakes cost!”
“What era are you from, again?” Takagi laughs.
“Umm…”
I stress about it for a little while and then remember: Oh. Right. This is a dream. Well, in that case, why not? It’s Taki Tachibana’s money anyway. I’ll just eat whatever I want.
Ahhhh, what a great dream…
The pancakes are the heavyweight kind, a fortress solidly flanked by things like mango and blueberries. After finishing them, I sip cinnamon coffee, deeply satisfied.
Tweedle.
The smartphone in my pocket chirps… Huh. There are an awful lot of angry-vein symbols in this text.
“…Agh! What’ll I do? It says I’m late for work! Somebody who’s probably my boss is mad at me!”
“Wait, you had a shift today?” asks Takagi.
“You better hurry and go, then,” says Tsukasa.
“Right!” I hastily stand. Oh, but…
“What’s up?”
“Umm… Where do I work again?”
“……Say what?”
The two boys have soared past disgust. They seem about ready to snap. Gimme a break. I know absolutely nothing about this guy!
your name. Page 3