Chapter 8:
Remember22
IT WAS the day we first traveled farther than our legs could possibly reach in a single step. I couldn’t recall the last time I rode a bullet train, but it was faster and more fun than I was expecting.
“Right?” I asked Adachi beside me, even though there was no possible way she could have known what I was thinking.
At first her eyes widened, but then she nodded. “Right.”
It was nice to have someone validate me, even when she didn’t understand.
My twenty-second summer was rapidly accelerating like it was trying to catch up to something. As I watched the scenery blur together outside the window, I thought of all the other summers I’d let pass me by. First there were the grade school summers where all I did was smile, followed by junior high summers where all I did was stress, and then there were high school summers where all I did was meet Adachi.
With each new summer, the season regained a bit of its lost sparkle. The sun ripened both the things I needed to remember and the things I wanted to forget, making it easy to look back. For someone who struggled with names and faces, when it came to myself, I suddenly had a photographic memory. Perhaps I was actually a lot more self-obsessed than I realized.
Likewise, Adachi was also twenty-two now, and her hair was longer than it used to be in high school—like the nurtured roots of a sapling that had grown into a tall tree. Before I knew it, she suddenly looked right at home with a soft smile. Someone once told me they thought she was frigid, but I still hadn’t met that version of her. Admittedly, it was probably for the best.
Our travel destination was a city known for its tourist attractions, and in summer, I expected it to be crowded with swarms of other visitors. So why would I still choose to go there, when the thought of summer crowds made me feel all blegh? Because it was a step closer to my long-term goal: a trip abroad. In terms of distance, anyway. Perhaps it was an uncommonly simple reason for someone to travel east.
Plus, this particular city was located close to the ocean, and since my hometown was landlocked, I was hoping the sea breeze might make me feel like I’d come a long way.
“Shimamura, look.”
When I turned in response to Adachi’s voice, I found an origami crane. Apparently the wrapper from our train meal had been given new life. Either she was bored, or she wanted to show off her skills, because she held it up with a hint of pride. And as I gazed down at the bird spreading its wings in her palm, I felt nothing but joy.
After the bullet train carried us across the country, we transitioned to a smaller local train. Unlike the bullet train, this one was packed, and there was nowhere for us to sit. Thus we stood beside the door, shoulder to shoulder, waiting firmly for our destination. While Adachi barely had any luggage, I was carrying a fairly big backpack, and it felt indicative of something—our personalities, maybe. I contemplated this as I swayed with the motions of the train.
And so, at long last, we arrived at our destination, all without taking a single step. I was feeling oddly inspired by the power of technology.
“Thoughts, now that we’ve arrived?” I asked Adachi on a whim as we walked down the station stairs.
She paused to think for a moment, gazing into the distance. “Uhhh…well…crap, I don’t have an opinion yet.”
“What a coincidence! We match.”
At this, her face lit up with relief, and she smiled. No longer was emoting a struggle for her.
We passed through the turnstiles out into the sparkling sunshine, where a rickshaw was waiting like a taxi at the curb. Yep, this is a tourist trap, all right. “First time I’ve ever seen one of those in real life,” I murmured, pointing subtly.
Adachi turned to look. “I bet it’d be hot and miserable riding one of those right now,” she mused, and indeed, there was no roof. But if it was waiting here, then surely there had to be a market for it.
Standing next to the rickshaw was, presumably, the driver: a young woman with blonde hair, dressed in a happi coat. Behind her, the deep blue sky was such a stark contrast, it was like she was carrying it on her back. Driving a rickshaw seemed like hard labor to me, but if women her age could do it, then maybe not.
As I stood there, lost in thought and staring absently, the woman suddenly turned, and our eyes met. Instantly, we both froze.
Hard to say which one of us was the first to realize, but…
“Senpai?”
“Welcome, welcome! Step right up for a summer memory like no other! So what if there are taxis right there? So what if the bus is cheaper? This is a rickshaw! Oh, and the heat—great weather we’re having, isn’t it? This season may feel like hell on the best of days but hop on in and it’ll brighten up your vacation real quick! We’re on fire, folks! But one day you’ll look back on it—yes, it’ll be the first thing you remember about your life as you lie on your deathbed! So why not skip the hassle and burn more than fireworks into your—Senpai, you say?”
Instead of a two-sided conversation, she rattled off a slew of words in my direction, only to belatedly react with confusion to my question. Wait, is this really her? I was starting to think maybe I had the wrong person.
But no, it was my senpai from junior high basketball. She was a year older than me, and the last time I saw her was probably at some point at the start of high school, so it had been quite a while. Nevertheless, I recognized her on sight, probably thanks to that bright blonde hair.
I amend my previous statement: apparently, I was the first to realize.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my kouhai!” I could hear hesitation at the edges of her voice.
“Can you remember my name?”
She froze, which made me think the answer was no. But after a pause, or perhaps a loading screen, she spoke up: “It’s Shimamura, right?”
Well done. “Took you long enough.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha! What can I say? I’m married to the job.”
She laughed wholeheartedly, without a trace of guilt. But the version of her that I once knew had never laughed like that. Or much at all, really.
“It’s been what—six, seven years since I last saw you? If you met a kid when they were in kindergarten and they showed back up on your doorstep in sixth grade, wouldn’t you be like, ‘¿Dónde estás?’ or something”
“I mean, yeah, probably.” Pretty sure your Spanish is wrong, though.
“Just look at you now, too old to play with dolls…”
“Okay, you haven’t known me that long.”
“For that matter, I never dreamed I’d encounter you here of all places, Shimamura What’s-Your-Name.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. I wasn’t expecting to find you here either, Senpai.”
Her entire existence had been erased from my mind. Thankfully her golden hair was so memorable, it all came rushing back in seconds flat. Seriously, how could I have bumped into an acquaintance so soon when we were this far from our hometown? Did the bullet train actually go straight, or just loop around in a circle when I wasn’t looking? Then again, our town didn’t have rickshaws…
“Shimamura?”
Adachi tugged at my elbow. Times like these, why did she always pinch my elbow skin? There’s no fat there!
“We were on the basketball team together in junior high,” I explained briefly. Well…actually, that was pretty much the whole story. Not a lot else I could say about her.
“Hmm…” Adachi offered her a tiny nod of acknowledgment.
“Whoa, it’s a pretty lady!” Senpai exclaimed. “So pretty, in fact, I’d love to have you as my kouhai, too.”
“Right,” Adachi replied dully.
At this, Senpai let out a creepy little cackle—like the sort of laugh when you just remembered something. I would sometimes burst out laughing like that when I thought back to old memories. Though in my case, I was more subtle about it.
Anyway, it was starting to sink in just how beautiful Adachi was to anyone who saw her. Gazing up at her, I decided to play along. “Whoa, it’s a pretty lady.”
“Hweh?” Her face crumpled, and I experienced the mysterious phenomenon of the stunning beauty who could transform into an adorable creature at will.
“It’s not a competition,” Senpai scoffed. “Wait, are you jealous, mayhap?”
“…Indeed I am.” Truth be told, it wasn’t that deep; I just wanted to try it out myself. Now I was starting to see how simple-minded I really was.
“So, do you and the pretty lady live around here? No, that can’t be it. You don’t have the smell of the city.”