There were things in this world he still wanted to see and do. Ryuuji sought for them, using the power of his imagination to soar as high as the stratosphere.
(Food. Anyway, I’m going to eat dinner. Where would I do it? Where would be a good place? In a marble room with a large skylight. It’ll have crimson curtains and a fireplace. No, a nightscape with Tokyo Tower in view…or maybe the Rainbow Bridge? It’d be lit up like a jewel and look so pretty. Under the stars would also be nice. Or maybe even the moon, with Mars or Jupiter in the sky… No, it’s got to be the Earth. I want to see a rainbow… Maybe a big waterfall that’s making a rainbow with its spray. And as for the sky…well, I like the sunset.)
He righted the table he’d upturned, holding it as gently as he could in order to keep from scratching the tatami. He repositioned each of the floor cushions, placing his, Yasuko’s, and Taiga’s on the floor. He put the TV remote on the right side and lined it up with the corner.
(A red sunset. The sun will be golden, and the edges of the ashy clouds will shine like they’re burning. Under those clouds, there’ll be rain coming down. And we’ll have a really big, absolutely huge table set…on the beach… No, it’s got to be on a savanna. On a sunset savanna’s grassy plain, right in the middle. There’ll be a waterfall off in the distance, and it’ll make a rainbow, and rhinos and giraffes will be walking around leisurely.)
He wiped the table down until it was sparkling.
(The tablecloth will be bright white, for sure.)
He whipped the cloth he was wiping with, making it flutter. Ryuuji could see the tablecloth that would puff up with the hot winds. In the distance, the grassy ocean that broke into waves and the cries of the far-off beasts and the fluttering of birds’ wings—on the TV stand, where he could pick them up whenever he felt like it, stood several Takasu sticks. He took one and traced around the bottom of the TV. The small bits of dust that had gathered from the static electricity came away with gusto. Ryuuji grinned.
(Aperitifs. First, we’ll bring out sweet fruit liquor. Plum liquor… No, that’s too normal. Strawberry or something, instead. Maybe fig would be good. And small glasses that let the red light of the sunset shine through.)
Ryuuji crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the TV stand. Like a veteran hunter sighting his prey, his eyes lit up. What he was after was the area around the wall socket where the cables were entwined behind the TV. No matter how carefully he cleaned, dust always accumulated there.
There there there. Ryuuji bared his teeth. He poked around with the Takasu stick and got the dust that was easy to see, but the real challenge was yet to come. Ryuuji yanked all the cords from the outlet in the wall, skillfully reeling them in. The fluffy dust bunnies that had been in hiding tumbled forth, and he quickly wiped them away with his towel.
(And then the soup and hors d’oeuvres. Wait…I can’t just serve them one at a time, though.)
Taiga was sure to pout and would probably complain—there’s mosquitos, it smells like animals, “There’s poop from something over there! I won’t allow this! Ryuuji! Travel back through time and clean it up before I ever see it!”
Minori would be sitting next to her. “But they’re animals, they poop whenever they want to.”
Her eyes would stop on Ryuuji as he got up, and she would leave her seat to come help him. Meanwhile, Ami would have a Chanel bag resting on her knees. Despite her pretty face, she would say something terribly spiteful and twisted.
“Oh deaaar, Minori-chan! You’re! So! Kind! ♥ Isn’t that kind of suspicious? Why, aren’t you the suspicious pair?”
“I got here in time! Sorry for being late! I was so busy with student council work! Oh!”
“It’s fine, Kitamura, just keep your clothes on. Kushieda, don’t make a big deal about the curry and don’t say it looks like poop!” It seemed Haruta really wanted to eat curry. Noto looked somewhat restless—ah, he was worried about Kashii and Kihara, who sat next to Ami. Really, he could just try talking to them.
Dust could even build up between the metal tongs of a plug and then ignite from static electricity. Ryuuji had heard that could cause house fires. Sitting cross-legged by the wall outlet, he held the Takasu stick tight and swept up every last speck of dust with masterful skill.
The wind crossing the savanna would tousle the back of his hair. He would turn and see the infinite, grassy field leading to the two-bedroom apartment.
French? Italian? Chinese or maybe Japanese food? Maybe it would be a large pot filled with boiled taro that would actually get everyone excited. Vapor would rise intensely from the bamboo steamers lined up in a row. He would steam little bits of dim sum to death. There would be pasta rolling with meatballs and gratin with cheese layered so thick that it couldn’t be cut through. Crispy acqua pazza. Bavarian cream that would overflow from the bowl. A cake tower decorated with mimosa flowers. Ryuuji would even make white rice and, after all was said and done, he couldn’t leave out the curry. Haruta would thank him with applause.
There would even be a spot for Kanou Sumire at that huge table. She would arrive with a heavy-looking trunk, and Kitamura would stand up to help her. Their teacher Koigakubo Yuri would show up too, and they’d tease her for being all dressed up. Inko-chan would be perched next to a dish, and even the Takasus’ landlady would be present. Of course, so would Yasuko.
Showing up in a foreign car—or at least pretending to—Aisaka Rikurou would saunter in on foot, accompanied by Yuu, whom he’d never met. Taiga’s mother and her new husband and impending baby would arrive. Yasuko’s mother and father would be there, too. And, with a magazine stuffed in front of his stomach and a glittering Rolex on his wrist, Ryuuji’s dad would be there as well. Even the people he’d parted with in the past and hadn’t seen again—even people he had yet to meet—they would all be there.
Everyone would be at Ryuuji’s table.
Everyone would open their mouths wide and laugh with joy. And because everyone in Ryuuji’s world would be there, Taiga, more beloved to him than anyone, would be laughing, too. And if Taiga were laughing, then Ryuuji would laugh louder than anyone else.
The people Taiga loved—all of them—would be there, and they would be laughing. That was how it had to be. He wanted his and Taiga’s future to be like that. There was only one thing Ryuuji wished for in the world, and it was that.
“Okay!”
He wiped around the wall socket until it was immaculate. He turned over the towel and wiped the TV stand until it squeaked. He went back to the sink and washed out the towel, wrung it out hard, and scrubbed at the sink. He went on his knees and wiped the floor. He washed the towel again and wrung it out.
“I’m doing it!”
Ryuuji got on all fours in the hallway that was so short it was suffocating and put the towel down on the floorboards. Here we go. “Start!” He raced down the hall with the rag. He wiped down the corners of the kitchen, changed direction and backtracked, with his arms outstretched like wipers to swab down the walls as he went.
What was wrong with having dreams? What was so sinful about having hopes? He wouldn’t let a single person fall behind. He wouldn’t give up. The mass destruction he and Taiga feared would absolutely never come. He would show Taiga the world he had seen as he flew through the skies.
But before that could happen, there were things he needed to do.
“Rice…”
Ryuuji picked up the hard grain of rice that had dug into his knee and bit his lip hard. He, Ryuuji, would need to take in all the pain and sorrow here. Could he do that? Would he falter?
Eyes unflinching, he stared at his destination. If he could compare himself to a dragon racing through the heavens, then there was nothing for him to fear.