Surprisingly few childhood friendships continued into adulthood. The company one kept remained relatively unchanged throughout elementary and middle school. Students usually attended nearby institutions up to that point, so they pretty much had the same friends. But that wasn’t the case in high school. Unless kids chose to enroll in a very local high school, there would be a significant change in the faces they frequently saw. They met new people and devoted themselves to study and club activities, and opportunities to spend time with their elementary school friends would almost entirely disappear. And that became even more true once they graduated. Some people went to college, others joined the workforce; social circles and daily rhythms transformed entirely based on the paths people walked. Then, before they even realized it, their childhood friendships were so far behind them that they couldn’t even remember what those friends looked like. That was probably the norm. Most people parted ways with their childhoods just like that. Sometimes, Kenji Sasakura wondered why—in spite of all that—one of his childhood friendships had lasted into his midthirties. “There’s somewhere I want to go on my next day off, and if it lines up with your schedule, I want you to come with me. Also, I bought that wine you like, so come over if you want to drink it.” On a rare day when Kenji had finished work early and was about to go home, he received that text message from an old friend. That friend had a totally different job and workplace than Kenji, but he sent those kinds of texts often. “I’ll head over now.” He fired off that response and got one back—“Okay”—almost immediately. Of the friends Kenji had when he was little, this was the only one he still regularly saw. Kenji felt like their relationship could best be described as an obligation on his side, since quite frankly, given the particular experiences his friend had as a child, it simply hadn’t been possible for Kenji to walk away from him. His friend was rather immature in many ways, and Kenji, who often ended up taking care of him, had been called his personal babysitter more than once. Still, Kenji didn’t think it was especially bad at his age to have an old friend who casually invited him over for drinks…even if that friend did cause him no shortage of trouble. From the very beginning, the way they met had been strange. It happened in their first year of elementary school, in the spring. On a Sunday, he thought. At the time, Kenji’s grandfather was a kendo instructor at a local dojo. Kenji had been attending classes at the dojo since he was in preschool and would also receive lessons in the garden on his days off, if his grandfather felt like giving them. Kenji liked kendo. It made him feel like a sword-wielding character in a manga or an anime, which he thought was cool, even if cinematic swordfights were actually pretty different. The win-or-lose element was interesting, too. Grandpa was out on some errand or other that day, and his parents were inside. With nothing to do, Kenji went out to the garden alone to practice. Slightly worn out, he took a short break from swinging his bamboo sword around… …and made direct eye contact with someone who was peering at him through a gap in the garden shrubbery. “Whoa,” Kenji exclaimed without meaning to. There was a kid he didn’t know there. He thought they were probably around the same age, but he had no memory of seeing her at school. A kid with a face like that—soft, fluffy light-brown hair and big, bright eyes—would definitely have stood out to him. Noticing Kenji’s attention, she leaned forward, shoving her unreasonably cute face into the space where the greenery had thinned out. “That’s so cool! I wanna try, too!” Oh, Kenji thought, hearing the other child speak, he’s a boy? He glanced down at the bamboo sword he was holding. “This…? You want to try it?” “Yeah! Hey, can I come in there?” the boy asked in his high voice. Wordlessly, Kenji pointed toward the porch, which the path into the garden ran alongside. Right away, the boy pulled back from the shrubbery and ran in through the entrance Kenji had indicated. He was dressed in a bright-white shirt and navy-blue shorts and was a little shorter than Kenji. He reached Kenji on agile feet, then put both hands on his little round kneecaps and bowed once quickly. “Hello, sorry to bother you.” “…Okay.” Feeling nervous for some reason, Kenji nodded at him. As Kenji grew, people would often tell him he had a “frightening face” or “looked like he worked in the mafia,” but the truth was he had always looked that way, even as a kid. He had never had any youthful charm, and he wasn’t particularly good at chatting. Even within groups of kids his own age, he was more likely to be met with fear and avoidance at the beginning. He felt like this was the first time another child had ever come right up to him with a smile. “Say, d’you think I could try that, too?” The other boy’s big, round eyes were gleaming. He accepted the sword with delight when Kenji held it out and immediately started waving it around. “…No. That’s not how you hold a bamboo sword.” “Huh? Then how?” “Put your right hand like this. The left one goes farther down.” “Like this?” “Yeah. Straighten your arms more.” Imitating his grandfather, Kenji taught the boy how to grip and wield the bamboo sword. Picking up the techniques in no time, the boy swung the sword with much enthusiasm. But before long, he looked over at Kenji with a somewhat anxious expression. “Hey, do you have another one of these?” “Huh?” “This. I took it from you, so now you can’t do it, too. I’m not supposed to hog things all to myself. It’s rude. Or maybe we could take turns using it?” Kenji was pretty sure they had a spare bamboo sword in the storeroom. With two swords, they could do a pretend match, and that would definitely be more fun. “…We have one. I’ll go get it!” Just as he was about to head for the storeroom, Kenji suddenly realized something. He had forgotten to ask the other boy’s name. “Hey. What’s your name?” The boy stopped swinging the sword in his hands. “Me? My name? It’s Akira!” He introduced himself just like that, with a smile like a friendly puppy. “I’m Akira Takatsuki! What about you?” “…Kenji. Kenji Sasakura.” “Oh? Then I’ll call you KenKen! Hey, KenKen, how old are you?” “Six.” “Me too! That means we’re the same age!” Then the boy held one small, pale hand out toward Kenji. At the time, Kenji didn’t know a thing about fancy customs like handshakes. Seemingly unperturbed by his bewilderment, the boy grabbed Kenji’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake. His smile was radiant. “Nice to meet you, KenKen!” And that was Kenji’s first encounter with his childhood friend Akira Takatsuki. Very soon after that, the adults arrived on the scene. “Ah, Akira! Thank goodness I found you; what are you doing in a place like this?!” A voice came from over the other side of the shrubbery, and a woman stuck her face through the gap just as Akira had done before. Crying out a little in surprise, Akira darted to hide behind Kenji. But at almost the exact same time, Kenji’s mother poked her head out of the house. “Oh, Kenji, you have a friend over? What’s your name?” “Ah, excuse me! Are you the lady of the house?! I’m so sorry, but could I come into your garden for a minute? My employer’s son is in there!” The woman with her face in the greenery called out frantically. Startled, Kenji’s mother looked between the two boys. Kenji, also totally at a loss to explain, kept standing in front of Akira to shield him. Meanwhile, the other woman managed to find the entrance to the garden and was staggering toward them, saying “Akira! I’ve been looking for you!” in a tearful voice. She was a kind-looking, slightly chubby woman wearing an apron. Apparently realizing there was nowhere to run, Akira peeked timidly out from behind Kenji. “…I’m sorry, Ms. Katayama…” “Dear me, you have your mother worried sick, too! You know you can’t just leave the house without saying anything! Let’s go home right away, Akira!” The woman—Ms. Katayama—threw her arms around Akira immediately. Kenji’s mother had hurried out into the garden to ask what was going on. Holding on to Akira’s hand as if she never intended to let go of him again, Ms. Katayama began to explain the situation. Akira, it seemed, lived in a big house just down the road. The house had only been built the year before, if memory served. Kenji’s family knew the people who lived there had a child, but he went to a private elementary school and was driven around by car every day, so no one had gotten a good look at his face. Ms. Katayama told them that she worked as a helper around the Takatsuki residence. “Akira was supposed to go to a ballet lesson this afternoon, but I realized suddenly that I couldn’t find him anywhere… Oh my, you’ve got everyone all in a tizzy. Thank goodness nothing happened to you!” “My, my, that does sound stressful. I apologize; I just thought my son had a friend over, so I was rather oblivious.” “It’s fine; it looks like they had a nice time playing together, so that’s good at least!” While the two women were talking, Kenji whispered to Akira, “…You ran away?” “Yeah.” One hand still clutched in Ms. Katayama’s, Akira nodded. “How come?” “…Because.” Akira’s brow furrowed as he pouted. “Because I have to wear white tights in ballet.” “Tights?” “Yeah. White ones.” “You don’t like white tights?” “No, that’s not it… It’s just, at ballet class, another kid’s mom saw me in my white tights and said, ‘You look like a cute little girl.’ People already think I’m a girl all the time! I don’t like it. I’m a boy. That’s why I’d rather do sword fighting.” “It’s not sword fighting. It’s kendo.” “Kendo?” “Yeah. You write it like ‘the way of the sword.’” Akira looked at the bamboo sword he was still holding as Kenji spoke. Then, realizing that he had yet to let go of it, he gave the sword back to Kenji and leaned in close. “Hey. Is it okay if I come play again?” “Huh?” “I wanna do kendo! I’ll tell my mom I like it more than ballet! So can I come over again?” Even though he had just gotten in trouble for running away, Akira didn’t seem to have learned his lesson at all, Kenji thought. But somehow, looking into those excitedly sparkling eyes made Kenji feel happy, too. And so he replied, “Yeah… It’s okay. Come over anytime.” Despite saying that, Kenji wondered if he and Akira would actually see each other again. Even though they were both first-years in elementary school, he more or less understood that they were from two totally different worlds. Akira lived in a big house and had a maid. He wore pristine, unwrinkled shirts. He went to a different school, and after all, he was the kind of rich young lad who was used to wearing white tights and taking ballet classes. Everything about him set him apart from the average people in the neighborhood, who appeared almost dingy in comparison. And yet. “KenKen! I came to do kendo!” The following Sunday, Akira visited the Sasakura home once more, this time accompanied by Ms. Katayama. “So guess what? I told them! My mom and dad! I told them I wanna do kendo instead of ballet! My mom said, ‘You can’t, it’s dangerous,’ but my dad, and my grandfather, too—they said it was okay! They told me it’s good for a boy to be healthy and strong! So that means I get to do kendo!” Akira delivered that news with so much enthusiasm he seemed liable to soar into the sky. Ms. Katayama explained to Kenji’s wide-eyed parents, wearing a wry smile. “I apologize. Akira wanted to come here to play again so badly we didn’t even ask if it was okay… He said he wants to learn kendo and even went to talk directly to his grandfather about it. I think he probably doesn’t have any friends in the area, so he’s a bit lonely… Oh, but if it’s a bother, I’ll take him home.” “Oh no, not at all. No bother whatsoever,” Kenji’s mother replied, flustered by the expensive-looking packaging on the sweets Ms. Katayama had brought for them. Just then, Kenji’s grandfather suddenly poked his head into the room. “What’s this? A friend of Kenji’s?” His grandfather, a seventh-level ranked kendo practitioner, looked like a warrior. He had keen eyes, spoke little, and still stood quite tall for someone his age. The children who came to the dojo were often afraid of him. For a moment, with a man like that staring down at him, even Akira stiffened up and stopped talking. Unsmiling, Grandpa asked, “You want to practice kendo?” Akira blinked. Then he stood up tall and replied, “Yes! I want to!” “Then come to the garden. You too, Kenji.” With that, he withdrew deeper into the house, likely heading for the garden through the back. Eyes huge with excitement, Akira looked back and forth between Kenji and his grandfather’s retreating form. Kenji stuffed his feet into his shoes, grabbed Akira’s hand, and pulled him out the front door. Together, they entered the garden through the path by the porch. Grandpa was already there waiting with a bamboo sword in hand. Two smaller, child-size swords lay nearby. Swinging his sword through the air once with a swoosh, Kenji’s grandfather declared, “I’m not going to go easy on you, as your teacher. I’ll train you hard, so keep that in mind.” “Yes!” “Yes.” For some reason, Kenji also straightened his posture and responded. He and Akira looked at each other and smiled. At that point, neither of them was thinking about how different their lives were. They were simply enjoying spending time with another child their own age. After that, Akira visited the Sasakura family every Sunday. Children’s classes were held at the dojo on Mondays and Wednesdays, but apparently, Akira had other lessons on both days. Kenji’s grandfather readily agreed to teach him on Sundays in the garden outside the house. Although, he wasn’t available to teach every week, plus there were days when it rained. Akira came over anyway. Even when Grandpa wasn’t home, he and Kenji played in the garden if the weather was nice—or in Kenji’s room when it wasn’t. At first, Ms. Katayama would stay the entire time to keep an eye on them, but before long, she merely dropped Akira off and returned later to collect him. It seemed the Takatsuki family had decided to place their trust in the Sasakura household. Akira was a bit of a strange child. Kenji noticed the way Akira gaped at the children’s manga lying around his bedroom. When he asked about it, Akira told him he had never read manga before—or even really watched any anime. Kenji hadn’t known such children existed, but Akira’s parents had evidently forbidden him from reading or watching any of it. “They told me I’m not allowed because that stuff isn’t very good… But y’know, I kinda wanna try reading it… Hey, could it be our secret?” “Sure. I won’t tell.” At Kenji’s nod, Akira gingerly picked up a manga, his cheeks reddening as if simultaneously enjoying the guilt and pleasure that came from committing his first disobedient act. In no time, he was obsessed. He flipped through the pages with his eyes alight, almost unreasonably happy, as Kenji watched from beside him. He had read this manga many times over, but he was surprised at how much more fun it was to read it with someone else. “KenKen, this is amazing! It’s so funny!” “…I have the next one, too.” “There’s another?!” “Yeah.” Kenji took the next volume down off his shelf, and Akira pounced on it with glee. After that, they pulled out manga after manga, reading each one with their shoulders pressed together. Of course, before Ms. Katayama arrived to pick up Akira, they put back every volume they had taken down, completely erasing any evidence of Akira’s wrongdoing. Ms. Katayama regarded her charge’s overly satisfied face with mild suspicion, but Kenji kept his mouth shut. After all, he had promised it would be their secret. Akira was also a very intelligent child. Sometimes, he helped Kenji with his homework. When he did, instead of just giving Kenji the correct answers, Akira taught him how to approach the problems to arrive at the answers himself. “So when you do addition, it’s good to start with easy stuff. When you have eight plus seven, the answer is going to be bigger than ten, right? So first, think about how many you have to add to eight to make ten.” “Um… Two?” “Yep. Eight plus two is ten. So now, since you already used up two, you have to take that many away from seven. If you subtract two from seven, what do you get?” “…Five.” “Yeah. You get five. So now you add that to the ten we made earlier. And you get?” “…Fifteen.” “Yeah, that’s right! See? You did it!” Akira said, clapping. “…Hey. Are you really the same age as me?” “Huh, why?” “Because. You sound like a teacher.” “I do…? Is that bad?” “No. It’s good. You make it easy to understand.” “Oh, okay.” Smiling wide, Akira stuffed a snack cake in his mouth. It wasn’t until Kenji was a little older that he realized the only times his mother served them slightly fancier snacks were the days Akira came over. Kenji was also invited to Akira’s house on several occasions. To Kenji, the residence was so grand—like the mansions he only ever saw in manga—that it looked like a castle. It had a spacious, grass-covered lawn, a chandelier made from countless crystal beads, and a large, circular window fitted with stained glass. It was also where Kenji learned for the first time that houses with fireplaces existed in Japan, too. He was certain that when Santa Claus went to Akira’s house, he would go down the chimney and come out the fireplace just like in picture books. As he had been leaving his own house, his mother had told him very seriously to be on his best behavior, so the first time Kenji set foot in Akira’s home, he was utterly stiff with nerves. Whether he noticed Kenji’s demeanor or not, Akira took his hand and brought him to the living room, where his parents were. “My, so you’re KenKen! Thank you so much for always getting along so well with our son! I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, because you’re all he ever talks about on Sundays. I hope you can keep being his friend from now on.” As soon as she saw his face, Akira’s mother knelt down and pulled Kenji into her slender arms. A sweet scent wafted from her long light-brown hair, making Kenji’s heart skip a beat. Akira’s parents made him take all kinds of lessons and had banned him from looking at manga and anime, so Kenji thought they would be frightfully strict and awful. But when he actually met them, that wasn’t the case at all. Akira’s mother was very beautiful. She looked like a doll with her delicate face, long limbs, and kind features. His father, a slim and handsome man, looked at Kenji with a smile and said, “Thank you for teaching Akira kendo.” They seemed like the appropriate owners of such an elegant house, and it was obvious that they both loved their son very much. Pictures of Akira’s mother in a white outfit adorned surfaces all over the house. She had done ballet for many years before getting married, even winning awards for it overseas. “So pretty,” Kenji said, looking at one of the photographs. Akira smiled happily. “My mom was a famous prima ballerina! I’ve seen her dance in videos, and she was so, so beautiful!” “I guess that’s why she wanted you to do ballet, too.” “…Yeah, but…I hate wearing tights.” “…Yeah.” If Kenji had been in that situation, he, too, would have infinitely preferred kendo over ballet. He didn’t think he would be able to tolerate the white tights. But if Akira hadn’t run away to avoid ballet class that one day, Kenji wouldn’t have met him. When he thought about it that way, Kenji was kind of grateful to Akira’s parents for trying to make him learn ballet. That was how much Akira’s friendship meant to Kenji. A few hours every Sunday—that was all the time they got together. They both had good friends at their respective schools, and their everyday lives were probably nothing alike. Nevertheless, the time they spent playing together was special. Neither of them had the slightest clue what would happen in the future. They had no worries at all. They just ran about in high spirits, like a pair of frolicking puppies. Looking back on those days later on, Kenji had the same thought over and over… It may have been the happiest period of their lives. Starting during their second year of elementary school, the Takatsuki family invited Kenji to join them at their vacation home for summer break. They owned a villa in Karuizawa and were planning on spending a week there that year. Somehow, Kenji managed to get his parents’ approval, so one day in August he found himself being driven to the Takatsuki family villa by Ms. Katayama. Stowed in the trunk at Akira and Kenji’s request, along with a bag filled with clothes and summer homework, there were two child-size bamboo swords. As Grandpa always said—one should never forget to practice. To Kenji, the days spent at the villa were packed with excitement. After waking up, the boys trained with their swords for an hour, then made progress on their summer homework as promised until lunch. Then they were free. Shoving Ms. Katayama’s delicious cooking into their mouths like it was a competition, the boys stood up in unison and announced, “We’re going outside!” The villa, notably, was surrounded by a large forest. Forests meant adventure. They even took the time to prepare necessary adventuring equipment: a butterfly net and insect cage for when they encountered bugs not yet known to humankind, squirt guns in case they ran into any adversaries, opera glasses that could be used for both reconnaissance and bird-watching. Even if they slipped and scraped their knees, they felt no pain. There were far more momentous tasks to attend to—like running and yelling among the trees. For two small boys, the world was endlessly vast and full of charm. The sunlight filtering through the greenery. Gorgeous butterfly species they had never seen before flying calmly by on graceful wings. Stag and rhinoceros beetles that weren’t store-bought creeping over tree trunks. Every single thing caught their attention and fascinated them. At night, they barbecued outside and played with sparklers. Exhausted by all the fun, the boys did lie down that night but decided they didn’t feel like sleeping. They had a contest to see who could stay awake longer, which ultimately devolved into a pillow fight. Ms. Katayama scolded them when she popped her head into the room, telling them to hurry up and go to bed. It was probably the first time in Kenji’s life that he got to play as much as he wanted, all day, every day. The same seemed true for Akira, as well. In the middle of one of their midday adventures, the boys got thirsty and returned to the villa temporarily, where Akira’s mother served them cold lemonade. “I’m so glad you came with us, KenKen,” she said then, earnestly. “I’ve never seen Akira play like this, running around with such energy.” “Yes, indeed,” Akira’s father chimed in. “I’ve been thinking how much more subdued he was.” He was settled in a nearby chair reading a complicated-looking book, but he turned his attention to Kenji and continued speaking. “Akira had no other children to play with last year, so he even seemed bored out here at the villa. As expected, boys should be full of spirit, even if they come home a little muddy.” “That’s true, but as for overly rough play… Listen up, you two. Climbing trees is dangerous, so don’t do it, okay? And don’t go too deep into the woods. Stay where there are actual paths; don’t wander off into the trees. You mustn’t get lost, understand?” Akira’s mother patted their heads as she spoke. His father chuckled and called her a worrywart, which she answered with a pout and a protest that she was just concerned for their safety. Her sulking face was adorable, even from Akira’s and Kenji’s points of view. On their last day of adventuring, the day before they were scheduled to go home, it happened. As Akira was scouting through the forest with the opera glasses, he found a great purple emperor. “I saw one! I actually saw one! Just like in the field guide! That was a great purple emperor just now!” “What’s a great purple emperor?” “It’s Japan’s national butterfly! Um, it’s special for our country! Like, if there was a national team for butterflies, it would be the captain! That was my first time seeing one in real life!” Akira explained, brimming with excitement. Hearing him call it the captain of the butterfly national team made Kenji picture a truly awesome bug. He had to see it. “Where did you find it?” “Over there! Flying between those two trees!” “Let’s go!” They scrambled off the path and pushed through the foliage, butterfly net held at the ready. Stepping over thick, protruding roots to make their way ever farther into the woods, the boys felt more and more like explorers. Unfamiliar birdsong rang out. A big spangle butterfly flew right under their noses as if trying to lure them away. Looking up, they saw the sun shimmering through a ceiling of overlapping green leaves. The forest—concealing the fabled great purple emperor somewhere within—was unendingly deep. They lost track of how long they had been walking. Akira, following closely behind Kenji, suddenly spoke up in an anxious voice. “Hey, KenKen? We’ve gone awfully far. We should turn back soon.” “Aw, but…” Kenji still hadn’t seen the butterfly they were searching for. They were going home tomorrow. This was his only chance. If they only went a little farther… Without slowing his pace, he looked over his shoulder to tell Akira as much. And all at once, the ground under Kenji’s feet fell away. “—Ah!” He had no idea what had happened. The entire world started tumbling round and round without warning, so that Kenji couldn’t even tell the sky from the soil. When the spinning finally stopped, there was a dull ache all over his body. Thoroughly stunned, Kenji blinked a few times, not even able to cry. After several seconds, he realized he was lying face down in the dirt but still didn’t understand how he had gotten there—or where he even was. Kenji looked around in a panic but could not find Akira anywhere. Abruptly thrown into somewhere totally unfamiliar all by himself, he felt helpless. His heart squeezed tight in his chest. “—KenKen!” Suddenly, he heard Akira’s voice. His scratch-riddled arms and legs stung as he scrambled to his feet. “KenKen, are you okay?!” “…Akira.” Kenji was standing at the base of a tall, steep, grass-covered slope. A swath of the grass—leading in a straight line to the bottom—had been crushed by something. At last, Kenji’s brain made sense of the fact that he had tumbled down the slope by accident. He could see Akira’s face peering at him from the very top. Kenji shuddered—he seemed hopelessly far away. It felt like he would never be able to get back up to the place he had fallen from. “Hold on, KenKen! I’m coming down for you!” “—No, don’t!” By the time Kenji’s frantic reply left his mouth, it was too late. Attempting to navigate his way down the slope, Akira lost his footing immediately and came rolling down the same way Kenji had. “Akira! You idiot, why did you do that?!” “KenKen, are you hurt?!” Akira jumped up right away and threw himself at Kenji. Momentarily cowed by his much-too-anxious expression, Kenji just shook his head in silence. “…Good. I’m so glad.” Akira let go of him, relief clear on his face. Embarrassed somehow, Kenji asked, “What about you? Are you hurt?” “…Oh.” As if only just remembering he had fallen, too, Akira looked down at himself. Just like Kenji, he had scrapes and dirt all over his body. “Urgh.” Kenji watched as Akira’s eyes filled with tears. Panicked, he asked, “Does it hurt?!” “…It, h-huuurts…” “Where?!” “Here and h-here, everywhere…!” “Let me see!” Kenji looked Akira over as the other boy started to wail. He had cuts and scratches and bumps and bruises, but nothing that was bleeding heavily or appeared to be broken. “Akira, you’re okay! Stuff like this will get better in no time!” “B-but it hurts…” “Once we get back and have someone take care of you, you’ll be fine, okay? So come on, hurry—” Let’s go home, Kenji was about to say. Then he remembered. He gazed up at the top of the slope. The way home was up there. It did not look like something they would be able to climb on their own. That was when Kenji finally noticed—it was getting dark. The sun had started to set. He hadn’t been paying any attention while they were walking earlier. The voice of Akira’s mother—telling them “don’t go too deep into the woods”—echoed in his head. Don’t wander off into the trees, she had said. She was worried about them getting lost. …What do we do now? Kenji wondered. Lost was exactly what they were. At any rate, there was nothing to do but walk. Scaling the slope was impossible, but even if they couldn’t go up, there had to be another path somewhere. As long as that path led them to someplace people were, it didn’t matter if that place wasn’t the Takatsuki family villa. Whether it was somebody else’s house, or even a highway, all they needed was to get out of the woods and find some sign of civilization. Kenji grabbed Akira’s hand—the other boy was still crying—and started walking. Both the butterfly net and insect cage had been lost somewhere on the slope. The opera glasses, too, had cracked and were no longer functional. The only surviving pieces of equipment were the water pistols in their pockets. His legs and arms hurt all over, and what Kenji really wanted was to stay crouched in that spot and start crying, too. But they had to get Akira back to the villa as soon as possible, so somehow, he forced himself to move. After all, Akira’s parents and Ms. Katayama must be worried. Kenji needed to get his friend home right away to have his injuries tended to. But they walked on and on for ages without encountering a single house or road. If anything, the forest had only grown thicker and darker. The woods at night were unimaginably terrifying. It was so dark. There was no light anywhere. The star-strewn sky floating far above their heads seemed infinitely brighter than the surroundings they half crawled through. Kenji picked up a broken tree branch along the way, sweeping it out in front of them to stop them from walking into any trees or tall grasses and feeling for twisted, snakelike roots with his feet. Every time a piece of undergrowth brushed against his ankle, he shivered. A hoarse cry resounded somewhere, and he wondered if it came from a bird. Or perhaps it was the sound of something shrieking as it died? The grass ahead of them seemed to be rustling, as if some creature had just passed them by. After all, they weren’t the only ones in the forest. There might be snakes. Or bears. Or something even scarier. …What was scarier than that? “KenKen. KenKen, wait. Stop.” Akira tugged on Kenji’s hand. Kenji turned around, but even though Akira was right there, he could hardly see him. “Where are we going?” “…If we find somewhere with people, they can help us.” “I don’t think it’s a good idea to wander around randomly. We could get even more lost or fall again.” “But—” “It’s so dark… It’s probably better not to walk too much, I think.” His voice still trembled a little, but Akira didn’t sound like he was crying anymore. He suggested they sit down, so Kenji did, setting the branch he had been clutching right beside his leg so he could reach it whenever he needed to. Akira sat down next to him. “I bet everyone is looking for us. As soon as it gets lighter out, I’m sure they’ll find us right away… So until then, we have to be safe.” “…Yeah.” Kenji nodded. Akira was smarter than him, and he seemed to have calmed down, so Kenji felt like it was safer to let him take the lead. But sitting there in the dark only made the fear worse. The sound of the grass shaking in the wind seemed unreasonably loud in Kenji’s ears. He felt like something that was big enough to swallow them both whole was going to emerge from the underbrush at any moment. He couldn’t see a single thing, after all. How would they know if some awful beast was approaching? If Kenji had to choose one good part of the dark, it would be that Akira could not see the way his face looked right then. “…KenKen,” Akira said. “Can I get a little closer?” Without waiting for a response, he pushed himself up against Kenji’s side even more. He was shivering, Kenji realized. “Are you cold?” “No… I’m scared,” Akira answered. “I hate the dark. It’s scary.” “…I don’t like it, either. The dark.” “Hey, what are we gonna do if a monster shows up?” “Th-there’s no monsters!” “There are. Ms. Katayama told me last year. She said, ‘Monsters appear in the woods at night, so you absolutely must not go there.’” That was just something adults made up to stop kids from going into the forest alone after dark. There weren’t actually any monsters. Adults just said there were. For some reason, even though that was what Kenji wanted to say, the words got stuck in his throat. Kenji groped for the branch he had set down and pulled it closer, gripping it as hard as he could. It wasn’t a bamboo sword, but Kenji felt just a little stronger with something long and wooden in his grasp. That’s right, he thought. If any monsters show up, I just have to fight them with this. But as he stared into immediate darkness, his courage grew brittle and crumbled to pieces. He hated the dark. He hated being afraid. Despite his best efforts, he could feel himself losing hope. What if they never made it out of the forest? The possibility made Kenji want to cry. “…I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Akira piped up. “Sorry for what?” “Well, because it’s my fault… I’m the one who said I saw a great purple emperor.” Kenji could hear in Akira’s voice that he was on the verge of tears again. “KenKen, I’m so sorry… If we can’t go home, it’s my fault.” “You’re wrong!” Slamming his shoulder into Akira’s with a thump, Kenji talked over the other boy’s sniffling. “I’m the one who fell down first. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.” “Yeah, but—” “Anyway, I wanted to see the great purple emperor, too,” he said, rooting around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for. Kenji pulled out the squirt gun and held it near Akira’s face. “Akira, here.” “Huh? What is it?” “Water. Drink some. You’ll feel a little better.” Akira opened his mouth, and Kenji poured a bit of liquid into it. The toy pistols were now their precious source of drinking water. “…It’s good. You have some, too,” Akira said, letting Kenji drink from his own squirt gun. Wiping at a trickle of water that had escaped from his mouth, Kenji felt Akira searching his own pockets again. “—Ah, found ’em! KenKen, I have some caramels!” “Huh?” “Ms. Katayama gave them to me! She said they were snacks for us to share!” The crinkling sound of paper was followed by Akira dropping a single piece of caramel into Kenji’s hand. Kenji unwrapped it and popped the candy into his mouth, feeling the sweetness melt over his tongue. The caramel stuck fast to his teeth the second he tried biting into it, but as he licked at it little by little, Kenji’s emotions gradually settled. “…Akira.” “What?” “The great purple emperor. Was it pretty?” “…Yeah. So pretty. Even better than the pictures.” “Oh. I wish I could have seen it, too.” “…Mm-hmm.” “Let’s look for it together next year, too.” “Huh…?” Kenji could feel Akira’s eyes on him. Still sucking away at the caramel, he continued, “I mean, we’re going home tomorrow. So let’s look for it again next year.” “—Yeah!” It was too dark to tell, but Kenji had a feeling Akira was smiling like he always did. Then— A short distance ahead, there was a flicker of something whitish. Kenji squinted into the darkness, wondering what it was. Then, without meaning to, he let out a small yelp in surprise. It was a person. A person was standing there. It was a woman in a white shirt. She was looking at them and waving. She wasn’t someone Kenji knew, but she was undoubtedly beckoning in their direction. Maybe the local residents had been informed of there being two lost kids in the area, and everyone was out aiding in the search. “…Akira. Help is here.” “Huh?” “Look, can’t you see?! Over there!” “What, where? I really can’t see anything.” “Come on, this way!” Grabbing Akira’s hand, Kenji headed toward the woman. Seeing them running after her, the woman started walking. She probably wanted to get them home quickly because everyone was so worried. Faster than Kenji and Akira could keep up, the woman moved at a brisk pace through the woods. But every so often, she looked over her shoulder, confirmed that they were still following, and nodded a little as if to reassure them. It was impossible to get a good look at her face in the dark, and she didn’t say a word, but Kenji felt that the woman had a kind atmosphere about her. Something told him that as long as they followed her sure-footed form through the dense forest, they would absolutely make it out. That turned out to be correct. Eventually, a white light came into view—the glow of a streetlamp. At long last, they had managed to emerge from the forest, coming out next to a road. “Akira, it’s okay now! We’re safe—” Kenji turned to Akira, who he had been pulling along by the hand the entire way. What? he thought. The woman, in front of them until only a moment ago, was somehow standing just behind Akira. Inexplicably, the atmosphere surrounding her—which Kenji had thought of as gentle while she was guiding them through the woods—had done a complete about-face. Now, the woman’s presence was a little frightening. With the woman now standing so close, Kenji could see her clearly. She was wearing a white shirt and black pants and looked to be around the same age as Kenji’s mother. Her hair was a bit unkempt. Neither her pale face nor colorless mouth betrayed any hint of an expression. She was staring directly down at Akira—her eyes were pitch-black. “KenKen, we did it! We got out of the forest! We get to go home!” Akira exclaimed, delighted. Just then, as if to respond to something Akira had said, the woman’s lips moved. Kenji did not remember hearing her voice. But he understood what she said nevertheless. My boy. Those words. The woman gazed at Akira, and those were the words she spoke. “…No!” Instinctively, Kenji shouted. He yanked on Akira’s arm, pulling him away from her. The woman lifted her face. Her black eyes—two spheres of rabid, condensed obsession—shifted to fix on Kenji, and ever so slowly, she raised one thin white hand out toward him. Again, her lips moved. That’s my boy. I’m taking him with me. “You’re wrong!” Still holding on to his broken tree branch, Kenji moved to brandish it like a kendo sword. “He already has a mom! He’s not yours!” With a yell, he swung the branch. The woman recoiled from him. Taking advantage of the opening, Kenji grabbed Akira and ran for the road. When he felt the ground under his feet change from dirt into asphalt, he glanced back. The woman was still standing among the trees. She stared intently in their direction but didn’t appear to be following them. It was too soon to let their guard down, though. She was an adult. If she chased them in earnest, she might catch them. “KenKen?! KenKen, what’s wrong?” “Don’t worry about it; just run!” Kenji took off down the streetlamp-lined road at full speed, never letting go of Akira’s hand. Before long, they saw flashlight beams up ahead. There were two adults walking toward them. “Akira?! Kenji!” “Ohh, thank goodness, we found you! We’ve been looking everywhere!” The two adults were Akira’s father and Ms. Katayama. Spotting the boys, they rushed over frantically. “Father! Ms. Katayama!” Akira let go of Kenji’s hand, jumped into his father’s arms, and started crying all over again. His father picked him up and held him close, tearfully whispering over and over, “Thank goodness. Thank goodness.” Watching them, Kenji felt relieved. He was so, so glad he had managed to bring Akira home to his parents. “Oh dear, thank goodness you’re safe, Kenji!” Ms. Katayama said then, wrapping him up in a hug. The moment he found himself enclosed in the softness and warmth of those arms, something inside of Kenji that had been stretched taut for hours snapped. Ms. Katayama stroked Kenji’s head countless times as he suddenly began to sob. He heard her say repeatedly, “You did it. You’re safe,” and Kenji looked over his shoulder one last time. The dark forest remained, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Back at the villa, the boys washed the dirt from their bodies in the bath and had their injuries treated by Ms. Katayama. They were certain there would be a dreadful scolding in store. But as neither Akira nor Kenji could stop crying, and Akira’s mother, waiting for them at the vacation home, was so overwhelmed with worry and relief that the tears kept pouring from her eyes, too, they got off without a lecture that night. According to Ms. Katayama, however, Kenji’s parents had already been informed of their going missing and safe recovery over the phone. “I believe they’re planning on giving you a talking-to once you’re home, so that’s what you can expect!” she said. Kenji would probably suffer his mother’s wrath the minute he stepped through the door. “…My mom is scary when she’s angry…,” Kenji muttered unintentionally, and Akira smiled at him. “But you get to go home. Isn’t that great?” You can say that again, Kenji thought. If they hadn’t made it out of that forest, he would never have seen his mother again. Ushering them into the children’s room, Ms. Katayama told them it was time to sleep. The room contained one bed—for Akira—and one futon, for Kenji. But that night, instead of climbing into the bed, Akira carried his pillow over to Kenji’s futon and got under the covers. “Let’s sleep together, since it’s the last night.” “…Okay.” They were leaving the next day. There was a skylight in the children’s room. For a little while, the two of them stared up at the night sky through the glass, not saying a word. Eventually, Akira squirmed around until he was facing Kenji. “…Hey, KenKen?” “What?” “Um, well… Earlier, who were you talking to?” “Huh?” Turning so they were looking at each other, Kenji blinked at Akira in confusion. Staring back at him intently, Akira continued, “When we made it out of the forest. You said ‘You’re wrong!’ to somebody. Who was it?” “You…don’t know?” “I mean, besides us, there was no one there.” “…What?” Kenji blinked again. Akira had to be playing a joke on him. That woman had been there. The one who showed them the way through the woods. But Akira gazed at him with his big, round eyes and said, “No one else was there. Nobody.” Then…that woman was… A terrible chill ran down Kenji’s spine. “…!” Kenji pulled the light summer sheets over his head and curled into a little ball. He didn’t like the thought of his head or any of his limbs poking out from under the futon. In retrospect, several aspects of the woman had been odd. How she made no noise at all. How she suddenly appeared behind them when she should have been in front. And above all, how she had moved confidently through the dark forest without so much as a flashlight. “KenKen. KenKen! Hey.” “…I’m going to sleep!” Kenji replied from under the covers. “You too, go to bed already!” He heard Akira grumbling about something for a little while, but it wasn’t long before the other boy snuggled up to Kenji and fell asleep. Kenji couldn’t sleep at all. He wondered why the room had a skylight. What if he stuck his head out of the futon in the middle of the night and looked up, and the woman was there staring down at him through the glass? On the verge of tears, Kenji stayed curled in on himself under the blankets and waited for morning to arrive. He envied Akira’s peaceful, even breathing. The other boy didn’t stir an inch even when Kenji gave his cheek an experimental pinch. Akira really was a lucky guy. Even now, as an adult, Kenji didn’t know who that woman in the woods had been. He couldn’t write off what he had seen that night as a dream or an illusion. The reality was, that woman had helped them. Without her guidance, it was quite possible the two of them would have ended up in serious danger. But why had her demeanor changed so dramatically at the last second? Did the image of a child trying to walk away from her bring her own child to mind? Or had Akira just resembled the woman’s son coincidentally? Kenji had considered trying to find out if people had died in those woods—and if so, had any of them been mothers? Ultimately, however, he abandoned the idea. He had a feeling it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Kenji was invited back to the villa several times after that summer, but he was strictly forbidden from going into the forest, and he never saw that woman ever again. He also hadn’t encountered anything similar to her since, nor did he want to. If he had his way, he wouldn’t have to see things like that for the rest of his life. Yet for all that… “Ah, KenKen, come in! You must have worked hard today! I was just watching a TV special about ghosts that I recorded a while back. Want to join me?” “Are you trying to piss me off?!” His childhood friend greeted him like that the moment he opened the door to his condo, and Kenji whacked him over the head without a second thought. The friend Kenji had wandered the forest with that night had become an academic who studied spirits and urban legends—the stuff Kenji hated. He couldn’t say for sure how that had happened. This friend, after all, had been through all kinds of things… Truly, his experiences were many. Nevertheless, this childhood friend was still at Kenji’s side, laughing as if nothing had changed since the old days. Kenji had a feeling they would probably carry on spending their time together like this for one reason or another. He was fine with that possibility—liked it, even. Childhood friendships rarely lasted into adulthood. But since theirs had already survived for so long, Kenji didn’t mind if they kept it going—even if they stayed like this forever.
Chapter 8
41 min read