“Aren’t your legs getting tired, sitting on that imaginary chair?”
“Of course they are.” I must have been tensing my neck muscles, because the back of my skull felt like it had been sanded down.
“And yet you continue to choose pain. Are you a tragic heroine, perhaps?”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“Yes.”
“…No one’s ever answered ‘yes’ to that before…”
For some reason, her response seeped into me at the perfect temperature—like washing my face with fresh spring water. Finally, I caved and sat down next to her on the bench. At this point, I no longer cared if my clothes got dirty. This was their purpose, I decided: to shield the body from germs.
As I sat, the bench creaked beneath my weight. Quiet, you. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, either. Scarcely different from sitting on the ground, if I had to guess.
“Welcome.”
“What is this, your house?” I let out a weird little laugh.
This was the closest in proximity we’d ever been. Her smile was shining just inches away. And whether it was the yukata or the close-up view, I couldn’t say for sure, but…there was something else I noticed for the first time:
Her boobs were big.
Not that it was relevant in any way, but…once I became aware of it, I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking down and back.
“Aha! You’re looking at my boobs!”
“Excuse me?!” She was completely right, of course, and as I played dumb, my vision went utterly blank.
“Puberty will do that to you. Then again, I still like them, and puberty ended ages ago for me.”
“I don’t…get what you’re saying…”
My panic was so visibly obvious, I wished I could throttle myself. Kimono Lady took this as her cue to thrust out her chest and give it a slap. “Not to ruin the fun of boobs, but there’s something else just as important that we need to talk about.”
“Implying boobs are important…?”
“You seem like you’re perpetually suffering,” she continued, in exactly the same tone—and I felt invisible fingers thrust straight through my ribcage. “Perpetually angry” was something I’d heard before, but no one had ever suggested I was in pain. Until now.
“I look like I’m suffering to you?”
“Very much, I’m afraid.”
Just like that, she had identified the discomfort that gnawed at my heart. Was I really suffering? Over what? What was so painful? What was making me miserable?
The thing I was hiding, that I pretended not to see—somehow the smile of a stranger was enough to cast a light on it. I leaned forward, put my chin in my hand, and closed my eyes. Perhaps it was this posture that helped the blockage come free at last.
“There’s a dog who lives out in the countryside… He’s not doing well.” As a result, I was sad and miserable and stressed and I hated every minute of it. “So I think maybe that’s got me all…depressed or whatever.”
The answer to my frustration was right in front of me—I just had to be willing to see it. But I was afraid. Afraid of what the passage of time would take from me next. Afraid of a world where someone died every time I closed my eyes.
“I see,” she replied curtly.
No surprise there. Obviously she wasn’t going to have much to say about some random kid’s dog. But then her hands grasped my head, and she pulled me close, as if it was something she’d done a thousand times.
How many other people had she subjected to this before me? And how many more would come after me? As I mulled it over, I buried my face in her chest.
It felt like I was lying in a field of flowers.
Resting against someone was reassuring, and warm, but awkward at the same time. I wasn’t used to this, and I felt restless. But my body had given in to gravity, and it refused to budge. Though I wasn’t crying, I couldn’t bring myself to look up at her.
“It’s not easy, but…I suggest you hold space for that pain,” said the person lying on the other side of the flower field. “It’s best not to run from your emotions.”
For the first time, I heard a hint of complexity in her voice. But these were adult concepts, and I couldn’t yet grasp them. After an immeasurable amount of time being held like a basketball…
“Feel better?”
“…Yeah.” Normally, I would have thrown a fit, but right now, I didn’t want to move. It felt like an awful waste to trample the flowers.
“If only you weren’t in junior high right now… What unlucky timing.”
“…Shut up.” If I was in high school, what would she have done instead? And would I have been able to laugh it off?
“Do you feel better now?” she repeated.
“Just peachy,” I replied, more firmly this time. And as if that was her cue, she let go of my head.
“Well then, let’s compete.”
“What?”
“Remember? I said I wanted to compete with you once I got some practice in.”
As she rose to her feet, I followed her away from the bench, dusting off the seat of my pants. Had she come here today solely to tie up loose ends? How very…diligent, maybe.
“Let’s do the thing where the loser has to do whatever the winner says.”
“The what?” There was no such history between us, and frankly, giving this dangerous woman that kind of power over me was tantamount to placing my beating heart in her fist.
“Granted, as I’ve said before, I have no interest in junior high schoolers, so there’s nothing I really want from you.”
Then why had she struck up a conversation with me? Was it just to kill time, or was some part of it a lie? So much was hidden beneath her friendly veneer.
“Wait, you think you’re going to win?” I scoffed back.
But she simply smiled—the most mature response she’d ever given me. “You can go first,” she offered, almost as if she just wanted to watch me score.
With her guidance, I stepped forward, dribbling the ball two or three times to get the rhythm down. Then I dropped into my stance, holding it in front of my face, feeling the pleasant weight on my wrists. I exhaled, then inhaled, enjoying the oxygen running laps through my veins. At the same time, the lingering scent of flowers permeated every inch of my body.
The flower lady.
As my heart began to pound, I summoned my strength. Over months and months of daily practice, I had slowly but surely built up a foothold to bring me closer to the hoop, but in the end, I never got to use it. Now, though? Now I was at my greatest height.
The ball and I jumped as one, without fear, leaping off into the great beyond. The pile of rocks beneath me crumbled soundlessly as my feet cut through empty air. My eyes only saw the ball and its flawless arc, tracing across a cloudy sky still too dark for dawn.
Something ran down my arms that made my elbows tingle: a jolt of pure euphoria.
“Looks like you win.”