It was Thursday morning, about a week after Narasaka’s birthday party.
I woke up, got changed, and headed straight to the bathroom to wash up.
These days, the soles of my feet felt cold against the floor if I was only wearing socks. I stepped in place as I washed my face, shaved, and slapped on some lotion. I also used some wax to casually style my hair—just enough to smooth down my bed head.
This had become my morning routine ever since the cultural festival. I was following Ayase’s lead, but once I started, I realized I was the only member of our family who hadn’t been taking care of his skin.
“To think that this bottle of Dad’s was actually skin lotion,” I mumbled to myself, looking at the translucent, blue-tinted bottle.
Now that I thought of it, I realized it had been there by the sink since before he met Akiko.
I recalled Dad saying he had previously been a salesman. I had to hand it to him. And at the same time, I couldn’t believe how oblivious I was to things that didn’t interest me.
I was beginning to realize that I didn’t spend enough time thinking about others. Or to be more precise, I didn’t have the drive to convey my goodwill to other people.
Ayase said I didn’t need to change, but I didn’t want to compromise when it came to how I felt about her. I wanted to make as much effort as I could, while still going at my own pace.
Not all the items lined up by the bathroom mirror belonged to Dad. Lotions and creams belonging to Akiko and Ayase had joined them, reminding me that our family had grown.
It made sense that doubling the number of people would double the number of items in the bathroom. Still, it was refreshing, if a little odd, to see the kind of things you’d never find in a male household. (I was shocked when Ayase told me she kept most of her makeup in her room. How many more products could she be using?)
After finishing breakfast, Ayase left first, as usual, and I headed out a little later.
As I rode my bike through the streets of Shibuya, a chill wind hit my body. What had been refreshing earlier in the year was now bracing. In a month, it would be legitimately cold.
I parked my bike in the usual spot at school and reached my classroom five minutes before the bell, as always. Soon, Maru came thumping in from morning practice and plopped down in front of me.
“Good morning, Maru. Tired from practice?” I asked.
“Hey there. And not at all.”
“Good for you.”
“It just takes getting used to. Practice becomes tough when you consider it a special workout. Make it routine, and it won’t bother you.”
His words sounded wise, but I didn’t think just anyone could make that kind of exertion into a routine.
Shortly after, our teacher walked in and began homeroom. It was then that something out of the ordinary occurred.
The teacher started handing out printouts with CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS written at the top. They appeared to be looking for anyone interested in picking up garbage the day after Halloween.
“Shibuya’s Halloween celebrations are famous,” said Maru, “but the garbage left behind the next morning is terrible.”
I nodded. We heard about it every year. It was great that the local community was thriving, but it was sad to hear about the mess.
And the garbage was only the beginning. Masses of crows would show up, and plump rats, their bellies full, would wander across the streets. The smell was awful.
“They say Shibuya’s an exemplary city, but the morning after an event like that, it’s a real garbage heap,” he said. “It’s appalling.”
“Have you seen it yourself?”
“I have morning practice.”
The sight must have left a pretty bad impression on him. Maru furrowed his brows and said he’d indeed been through Shibuya the morning after Halloween.
The teacher told us to volunteer if we were interested, then stepped out of the classroom.
“The time on this is pretty early. What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Why do we have to clean up strangers’ garbage?”
“Yeah, you’ve got a point.”
This little oddity reminded me both that Halloween was approaching and that it wasn’t all about fun and parties.
I had prep school after classes that day.
I’d been going regularly ever since summer break, and my grades had improved significantly since the spring. As it turned out, slow and steady was the way to go, and I felt increasingly motivated to study.
Until a little while ago, I’d been doing my schoolwork with no particular goal in mind. My only thought about college was that I should probably try to get into a good school. But now my aims were clearer.
I wasn’t just trying to get into a good school—I wanted to get a well-paying job at a good company. To do that, I needed to get the grades to enter a top-class university, either public or private.
No one had told me to do this, and I hadn’t shared my goal with anyone yet. It was personal and something I’d decided on my own.
I hadn’t even told Ayase. I couldn’t.
To tell the truth, this was my way of balancing out our uneven relationship. She was making my meals every day, and I hadn’t found her a high-paying part-time job to help her become independent.
Since I couldn’t do that, I’d started thinking of a way I could provide for the Asamura family so that she would be free to live however she wanted.
I hadn’t told her about it because she hadn’t asked me to do any of this, and citing her as my reason would probably make it sound like I expected her to be grateful.
Just as I arrived at prep school, I received a text message from Ayase.