Epilogue:
Things Yet to Come
I DIDN’T HAVE CLASS TODAY until my second-hour seminar.
After locking the door to the apartment, I hopped up onto my bike and took the three-minute detour over to the nearby riverbank. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, so I preferred to ride along the narrow embankment when I had time to spare, even if it was more of a roundabout way to the university.
As petals fluttered down before my eyes, I lifted my gaze, but I had to squint at the bright rays of sunlight pouring through the gaps in the soft-pink canopies. It was a very nice day—and surprisingly warm for the middle of April. So warm, in fact, that by the end of my commute, I was already regretting that I’d worn a Uniqlo HeatTech undershirt.
Shifting down a gear, I swerved through the main gate onto campus. After parking my bike, I headed straight for my building, passing by only a scattered handful of other stragglers as I went. When I stepped into class, I found that most of the seats were, as ever, already filled by my fellow classmates: college students of all ages and from all across the country, their chattering voices echoing through the spacious lecture hall. It was my second year of university, yet I still didn’t feel like I was truly one of them.
Taking my usual seat at the very back of the classroom, I pulled out my notebook. A few moments later, a girl came over and sat down in the lone empty seat left beside mine. Her bleached blonde hair was tied off in a long ponytail in the back, and her shiny, manicured nails were painted a bright shade of cerulean blue. It was Arisa Nishizono.
“Morning,” I said, thinking it would be awkward to ignore her.
“Hey,” she mumbled back, not sparing me so much as a glance.
Yeah, great. Glad I bothered. Thanks for the whole one syllable, I guess. To be fair, I’d been half expecting the cold shoulder, so perhaps I should’ve considered myself lucky.
While this was obviously an unintended coincidence, she and I had somehow ended up enrolling at the same university in Tokyo. At first, I’d made an effort to steer clear of her for no real reason, but now we were on decent enough terms that we even spoke to each other occasionally. Though it had been Nishizono who first broke the ice.
“So how’s Ushio doing?”
These were the first words she’d spoken to me since we’d graduated from high school. I couldn’t help but chuckle; this was over six months into our first year of college, mind you—and I was pretty certain she wouldn’t be caught dead talking to a guy like me if she could help it, so she must have been pretty damn curious. Since then, we’d had brief, sporadic interactions, which typically also revolved around Ushio.
“I see you’ve got your hair in a ponytail today,” I noted.
“Yeah, because it’s hot out,” said Nishizono. “You got a problem with that?”
“I mean, no. Just found it interesting, since you usually wear it down nowadays.”
Nishizono let out an indignant hmph. She was being awfully curt, but hey—at least she was engaging in the conversation to some degree.
“Think you’ll ever bring back the pigtails?”
“Never.”
“How come?”
“Too childish.”
“You think? I mean, yeah, I guess you don’t see very many college students walking around campus with pigtails, come to think of it…”
I kind of liked the pigtail look, honestly—not on Nishizono specifically, but in general. They usually told you something about the wearer’s personality, bratty or otherwise, and it was just plain fun to watch them sway back and forth with every step. No other hairstyle I’d seen on Nishizono fit her quite as well.
“You know,” I went on, “Ushio wore her hair in pigtails the other day.”
“Wait, for real?” replied Nishizono, immediately taking the bait.
“Mm-hmm. Wanna see a photo?”
Nishizono eyed me suspiciously.
Then, after a long, long pause, she said, “Yes.”
“Sorry, I lied.”
Nishizono kicked me under the table—a sharp low kick right in the shin, with a windup and everything, despite the awkward angle. I writhed in agony.
“Don’t just make stuff up just to screw with me,” said Nishizono. “Next time you pull something like that, I’m gonna sock you right in the nose.”
“Well, damn. All right, duly noted…”
Knowing Nishizono’s history, I wouldn’t put it past her. While she’d mellowed out a lot since high school, she still had a pretty short fuse and was far from someone you’d want to mess with.
“But, man…you sure were quick to take the bait as soon as I mentioned Ushio’s name. Hey, no! Stop! Don’t brandish your pen at me! That’s dangerous!”
Okay, I think that’s enough teasing for one day.
Once she’d calmed down, I tried to bring the conversation back to Ushio. “Y’know, if you’re so curious about her, you could always pay her a visit.”
A hint of weakness flashed across her prickly, irritable expression. “Like hell I could,” she said. “I wouldn’t even know what to say… And I guarantee she still hates my guts.”
“You think? I dunno, I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well, I am. People don’t just forgive and forget when it comes to those who treated them like dirt when they were going through a hard time in their lives.”
There was a gravity to her tone that suggested she was absolutely certain of this. Since she clearly realized the severity of her crimes now, I felt like she might just have a shot—but maybe she was right. Maybe Ushio did still hate her guts. And yet…as selfish as it was for me to say, I would’ve liked to see them make amends someday.
“I don’t see why it would hurt to try, if you’re really that remorseful,” I said. “You’re more than welcome to drop in on her at work. Though she’s very popular lately.”
“Eh,” said Nishizono. “Maybe if I’m feeling bold one day, I’ll consider it.”
We all had to share and live in this same world, so you never knew when you might have a chance encounter with someone from your past. Better to make peace and try to coexist in harmony with people than hold hateful grudges against them for the rest of your life, I’d say—even if I knew this was overly idealistic.
“…So hey,” said Nishizono. “About the Ushio wearing pigtails thing.”
“Hm? Yeah, what about it?” I asked.
“Was that all a lie? Or do you just not have a photo of it?”
I cracked a mischievous grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“God, I hate you…”
Once my seminar was over, it was officially lunchtime.
The weather was extremely nice, so I decided to eat outside for a change. I swung by the campus market and bought a BLT, then grabbed a seat out on the terrace. As I sat there making short work of my sandwich, my phone buzzed on the tabletop.
“Long time no talk, dude. Whatchu up to right now?”
It was a text message from Hasumi—probably the first one I’d gotten from him in two, maybe three months now. After graduation, he’d gone off to a university in Kyoto, so we didn’t really have any opportunities to meet up anymore, but we still made an effort to keep in touch from time to time. We never talked about anything of actual import, though, so there was no real structure or point to these interactions. They just happened when they happened. We had about the same rapport we’d had in high school.