When I arrived at the basketball court early the next morning, a certain someone else had beaten me there. Almost as if we had both wanted a “next time.”
Not me, I growled at myself silently. I just so happened to wake up unusually early, and everyone else in the house was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake them by being loud, so I left the house with my basketball and decided to go find a place to use it. For the second day in a row.
“Oh…”
When she turned, and I came face to face with that refreshing smile, it felt as though the boiling summer heat flickered off for a moment. She was a cool person in more ways than one. Airy, you could say. Or perhaps simply full of holes.
And so the kimono lady, whose name I had yet to learn, walked over carrying a basketball of her very own. “Check it out! I bought it yesterday!”
“I didn’t ask.” She was so aggressively friendly, it put me on guard instead.
“I’m going to get a great workout from the elbows up!”
What about the rest? I thought, scanning up her body from her feet to her shoulders. Ah. Never mind. “You could exercise in different clothes, you know.”
“Nothing I can do about my clothes, sadly. Circumstances beyond my control,” she explained, pinching her sleeve. “I’m obligated to come here dressed like this. Not that I mind formal wear, but…I’d prefer something with fewer layers, like a yukata.”
“Huh.”
“Anyway, good morning,” she continued warmly, seemingly unbothered by my disinterest.
“…Good morning.”
Other adults, like my teachers or passersby on the street—they all seemed so…you know…distant, like buildings on the horizon. They’d been around for years before me, so they were just part of the scenery, like…a permanent fixture, I guess? I couldn’t explain it. Basically, they were beyond my reach.
But her? She was just one step ahead…like a neighbor, in a way. She was an adult who still felt real, like an evolution of the older students on the basketball team.
“Now, then, teach me how to shoot hoops.”
Grinning brightly, she held up her ball like a trophy. She switched from grown-up to child so easily, it drew my attention like a magnet. Whether she was merely expressive or outright emotionally unstable, I couldn’t decide.
“Not sure I have much to teach. I just kinda throw it.”
“Okay, then, maybe I’ll start by watching you throw.”
She gracefully stepped back, gesturing for me to take the stage. I never agreed to teach her in the first place, yet I found myself walking forward, gazing up at the hoop. The more I told myself to play like normal, however, the more it slipped away from me. Biting back the urge to scream in frustration, I jumped into the air and took the shot.
Before my stiff arms could extend all the way, the ball left my grip, unsurprisingly missing the hoop and hitting the backboard. Great, I have to fetch it too? I grumbled silently as I ran after it.
“It seems the key is to keep your elbows high and your feet shoulder-width apart.”
That’s what she was watching? For some reason, picturing her gaze made me feel weird. When I returned with my ball, she grinned in greeting, holding hers at the ready.
“Anything else I should know, Sensei?”
This term of address tickled my side, and I rubbed the itchy spot with the heel of my hand. “The only other thing I can think of is…try to visualize a metal pole running down the center of your body. It makes it easier to jump. For me, anyway.”
The goal was to keep that metal pole straight when you jumped. Any deviation and you’d lose strength in your arms—like what happened to me just now.
“You got it, Sensei.”
“I’m not your sensei.”
“Roger that, junior high schooler!”
I get the feeling you were way too eager to switch to that.
Kimono Lady widened her stance, revealing her zouri sandals—the world’s least-athletic footwear. But with a basketball at the ready, she did at least look cool. I found myself captivated by the porcelain elbows that peeked out as her sleeves fell. Even without touching it, her skin looked smooth and faintly cold.
Then those elbows bent to form a crease, and the ball went flying.
Its trajectory had improved since yesterday, but it hit the front of the hoop and bounced off with a clang. As her hair and sleeves billowed in midair, that floral scent washed over me in full force, nearly making me choke.
“I hit the hoop!” she exclaimed.
“Uh, yep,” I replied somewhat meekly, overpowered by her sheer glee.
She ran off, arms swinging, to fetch her ball—so rambunctious, so dynamic, it caught me off guard. Once she retrieved it, she walked it over to the bench and set it down like she was scoring a try in rugby. Swinging her legs wide, she plopped down next to it.
“Why don’t we chat for a bit?”
“Chat…about what?”
“If you don’t have any ideas, I’ll think of something.”
I’m so cool, she mouthed to herself playfully. At her prompting, I walked up next to her holding my basketball. But I didn’t want to sit on that nasty bench, so instead I walked in slow laps around her, orbiting her like a moon.
“Okay, well, let me ask you this. Why’d you start talking to me?” I asked.
“Hm? When I talk to a girl, I never have much motive outside of the ulterior,” she declared loftily, scraping the edge of her sandal against the ground.
“Ulterior…?”
“But you have no ulterior motive whatsoever. Innocence personified.”
“Uhhh… Either this conversation is too stupid for me, or I’m too stupid for this conversation.” I genuinely couldn’t decide. Meanwhile, Kimono Lady gobbled up my confusion like it was her favorite dessert.
“Well, the thing about me is: I love high school girls. Nice to meet you.”
She placed a hand to her chest and introduced herself in the same tone you’d use to offer a business card. The only aspect that wasn’t professional was her word choice.
“You love high school girls?” I repeated.
“Yes, and I have absolutely no interest in anyone younger. It’s the way I’m wired, and it’s not changing anytime soon.”
Why was she acting so proud about this? A stunning beauty…who loved teenage girls…who wore a kimono…who smelled of flowers…whose voice was soft…whose everything was soft… There was so much going on with her, I couldn’t keep it straight.
“There’s something special about girls in high school. You’ll understand what I mean when you get there next year.”
“No, I don’t think I will…”
As for what exactly she meant by loving high school girls, I could hazard a guess, but I couldn’t relate. Would my peers suddenly seem “magical” to me the moment I set foot on that campus? Fat chance.
Granted, I was the kind of girl who preferred to fill the gaps in my knowledge. But in this case, I didn’t dare ask her to clarify, lest I take a wrong step somewhere. For that matter, was this really something she should be shouting from the rooftops? Did she have no grasp of common sense?
“Uhhh, okay, so that’s…your type, I guess…?”
I had no clue how to phrase it. At face value, “loving high school girls” had dangerous connotations. Or was I just closed-minded? I wasn’t trying to judge her…but then again, maybe I was right to.
“That’s right! High school girls are my field of expertise.”
“Hm.” Apparently, there was an entire field. My brain was more than happy to note down this new information that I would most likely never use for the rest of my life.
“But apart from that, there’s something about talking to girls that makes me feel complete, you know?”
She looked at me for confirmation, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to that, and my gaze wandered. If only each person came with a basketball hoop. Maybe then I wouldn’t struggle so hard trying to figure out how to score points that I inevitably flopped down on the floor in defeat.
“You’re a cute girl. I’m sure you’ll attract lots of people and attention in the coming years. Maybe one of those people will be me! But your life will get a lot easier once you figure out how to absorb the nutrients you need from them. In that sense, I don’t limit myself strictly to high schoolers.”
All I knew for certain was that she really wasn’t supposed to say that last part with her eyes sparkling wistfully. More importantly, however—she just offhandedly called me cute. That was the deepest cut. I could almost feel a phantom breeze against my cheek, and it set me on edge.
“From here, the goal seems so high above us, doesn’t it? So far away…”
She pressed a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun. I followed her gaze, mildly surprised to learn that someone taller than me would feel the same way I did.
“But hey, that’s what makes it a worthy ambition to pursue. Now, then!”
She pushed herself up off the bench and grabbed her ball. Then she turned—not to the hoop, but to the city—and I realized she was leaving. Already? I thought, followed by confusion at myself that rendered me speechless. Where had that come from?
Meanwhile, Kimono Lady crossed her arms with a grin and a sidelong glance, as if she could see right through me. “I’m just glad I got to see you.”
“What…? What?”
“Exactly the reaction I was hoping to get.” I could see her smiling, but I couldn’t picture what my own face must have looked like. “I’ll be sure to practice on my own, so let’s have a competition sometime soon.”
“A competition?” I repeated.
“What’s it called again? Free throws? Something like that. I’ll see you again.”
She didn’t waste much time saying goodbye. Reeling from the thud of her dribbling ball, I stood there in a daze and watched her cheerfully stroll away. Had you told me it was all a dream, I would have believed you. Every inch of her was just so otherworldly.
“…Again…?”
Part of me was skeptical, but it was hard to discount the fact that it had already happened twice. If I showed up here tomorrow, could I see her again? She was so kind—even to a complete stranger. What emotions shaped that kindness? Part of me wanted to investigate the source, but I was afraid the abyss would gaze back at me. Curiosity and fear passed the ball back and forth over my head.
I could feel something building at the joints of my fingers, and I didn’t like it.