I had shown up at the butt-crack of dawn at least partially in order to be alone. Seriously, what was she doing here? I could feel her gaze pinned to my back, and no amount of dribbling could cut through my unease. Trying but failing to focus, I attempted another shot.
But when I jumped, my upper and lower halves of my body were completely out of sync, and I knew before I even took the shot that I wouldn’t make it in. The ball slipped impotently out of my grasp and barely managed to hit the corner of the backboard. I jogged after it as it rolled, then rubbed my palm against its surface like I was trying to distract myself with its texture.
“How cool.”
I nearly leapt out of my skin. The voice was so close, it practically stroked my hair. Twisting my body away in recoil, I turned to find the kimono lady standing directly behind me. Intimidated by the height difference, I took another step back.
“Good morning!”
“…Good…morning…?” I replied, on the off chance she was in fact someone I forgot I already met. But I was confident she wasn’t. Even a space cadet like me would surely remember someone who looked like her, and not just because of her exotic fashion.
Her light brown hair fell to her shoulders. Glossy lips sparkled atop skin so pale, I didn’t dare imagine touching it, lest I tarnish it somehow. Her gentle smile disintegrated my glare on contact, and her scent was soft and unobtrusive, possibly floral. But most of all, I was drawn to those pale olive eyes—so beautiful, they threatened to whisk me away to a distant land.
“You’re in junior high, right?”
“…Yes…?”
She smirked at the confirmation. She seemed placid at first blush, but when she smiled, it became obvious just how much she was enjoying herself. “Third year?”
“…Wh…? And who are you?”
I wasn’t even wearing the one thing that functioned like a business card for kids our age: my uniform. With each correct guess, it felt like she was tugging on my loose threads, trying to unravel me, and it wasn’t pleasant.
“Oh, I’m just a college student.”
“…Right.” With those clothes, and those eyes, I already knew she wasn’t “just” anything. I could feel it as I craned my neck up at her full, grown-up height.
“Woke up early for basketball practice? I see someone’s starting the day off right.”
“Yeah…”
I still had no answer for my most pressing question: why was she talking to me? When she held out her hand, I paused for a moment, then set my basketball on her palm. A stunning beauty…playing basketball…in a kimono. Wait, no, her beauty has nothing to do with it. Who the heck would wear formal Japanese attire in a backwater town like ours, anyway? Was she part of the family who lived in that bougie mansion?
“I can’t even remember the last time I touched a basketball.”
As if following my lead, she dribbled the ball with an untrained hand for a few bounces, then got into position. When she raised her arms, I watched idly as the sleeves of her kimono hitched on her elbows as they slid down, exposing her biceps.
“Imagine you’re on a date, and you see a ball lying forgotten at a basketball court. You pick it up…and casually make a three-pointer mid-conversation.”
“What?”
She threw the ball in a straight line; it slammed into the backboard and bounced back. Hastily, she crouched and caught it right in front of her face. Then, without moving a muscle, she smiled. “Wouldn’t it be so cool?”
“…If you were trying to be cool just now, you failed.”
Honestly, if this chick wanted attention, all she had to do was walk around town holding the ball. Her smallest gestures gave shape to something worth watching, and in a world as shallow as ours, I suspected she could get whatever she wanted purely by virtue of being pretty.
“Haaah…”
“What are you sighing about?” And why are you looking at me?
“Oh, just lamenting the fact that friendship is the most I can offer a junior high schooler.”
“…What’s that supposed to mean…?”
“But hey, friendship’s not so bad, right?” She tossed the ball back to me, and her newly vacated hands spread wide like her smile. “Next time we meet, I want you to teach me to play basketball so I can be cool.”
She gave me a modest wave—a mature gesture, yet shockingly adorable at the same time—and oddly enough, my first thought was: I didn’t know you could be both at once. With that, she strolled off briskly, with flawless posture and light steps, as if she couldn’t even feel summer’s curtain. Dazedly, I watched her go.
Well, that was weird. Am I supposed to stop her…? No, I’m sure it’s fine…right? Who even is she, anyway?
Looking at it logically, there wasn’t going to be a “next time.” I didn’t come here every day, nor did I always show up at the same time. Even if she staked the place out, I could simply decide never to return. Without at least one of us making a conscious effort, there would be no second coincidence. And yet she left such a deep impression on me that I found myself suspecting it might just happen.
We hadn’t spoken for long, but the words she said packed a punch. And in addition to her good looks, her flowery scent seemed to be toying with my brain, filling my skull with imaginary petals. I glanced at the empty bench. Would she come back?
Her clothes, her eyes, her smile—she was full of treasures I would never have.