When she talked about us like we were Beauty and the Beast, she made it sound like I didn’t fall under the beauty category at all. That was fine, though. The highest I’d ever been rated was third place. And Adachi’s compliments were so dramatic, they were in a league of their own.
“We’re on vacation. I’m guessing this is…your career? Not a side hustle?”
“Correct. I didn’t feel like there was a place for me at home anymore, so once I graduated high school, I was outta there. Luckily, I found some money, and one thing led to another, and now I’m a rickshaw driver.”
“Found some money…?”
Playfully, she spread her arms wide as if to flaunt her dark indigo happi coat. The sunshine seemed to glide down each strand of golden blonde. It reminded me of the days when I bleached my hair…and how much everyone in my life hated it.
Our basketball team was neither skilled nor passionate, but Senpai played in pretty much every game. As for me and my bad attitude, I never played in a single one all three years.
“Hey, Shimamura. Seeing as fate reunited us here, why not take a ride?”
She jerked her thumb at the passenger seat, and judging from the grin playing at her lips, I suspected she was hoping I’d feel too awkward to say no to an old acquaintance. I was split fifty-fifty between no thanks, have a good life and since you’re offering, sure. Thus, I decided to check with Adachi next to me. “What do you think? Wanna try it?”
“Your senpai…”
That wasn’t an answer, and the look in her eyes was rapidly going cold. She may have seemed more stable these days, but deep down, she was still the same girl. Did she really need to be jealous of my senpai, of all people? From my perspective, Adachi was getting way more attention, and I was…well, I wasn’t bothered much at all. But only because I knew what she was like.
“We’re friends! Best friends! Come be besties with us!” Senpai reached out affably, her fingers wiggling like tentacles. But when Adachi shot her a look, she stopped dead. Reading between the lines, she began to backtrack: “On second thought, we’re not friends. I don’t even know her. Kouhai who?” Like trying to flip a fried egg only to throw the whole frying pan instead.
“I guess we don’t know each other, then. We’ll be going now.”
“C’mooon, isn’t it obvious? I wanna show my kouhai what I do for a living!”
Am I your kouhai or not? I gave her a summary of all my thoughts thus far: “You’ve really changed, you know that?”
At this, she combed the hair out of her face and grinned. The look in her eyes had a wistful sparkle, as if to suggest I hadn’t changed much at all. “Yeah, well, I wanted to reinvent myself.” Laughing to herself, she headed back to the rickshaw like she’d decided we were getting in.
Reinvent herself?
While it was an amusing prospect to blithely ignore her and head to the bus stop, I could already imagine her chasing after us, dragging the entire rickshaw with her. “Eh, what the heck. Let’s give it a try.”
“Sure, but…I’m gonna be sitting next to you.”
“Huh? Yeah, I meant both of us… Oh, good grief, my dear Adachi-chan. I haven’t forgotten about you, silly.”
Quit giving her all your attention, she was trying to say. I heard it loud and clear. Taking her by the hand, I headed for the rickshaw.
“Here’s a parasol for you. Sorry we don’t have a roof on this thing. And I hope you brought your own refreshments.”
Senpai reached into the back seat, grabbed a purple paper parasol, and handed it to me. The dry smell of the washi paper wafted up to my nose. As I took it and stepped closer, I realized there was a faint scar on her brow that wasn’t there before. It looked like a cut, and I could only imagine how it got there, but I kept my curiosity to myself.
Hand in hand with Adachi, we settled into the red seats with some assistance from Senpai. Once we were secure, she ran around to the front. From behind, I could see her arms tense up and her waist muscles harden.
“We’re ready to depart, ladies. Now where am I taking you? Got somewhere in mind? Or would you like the guided tour?”
I exchanged a glance with Adachi, then answered, “The tour.”
“You got it!”
It was a bit unnerving to look down at the ground from a higher vantage point than I was used to. Then, as I was watching the scenery go by, I realized belatedly: I had no business expecting Senpai to remember my name, because as it turned out, I couldn’t remember hers, either. What was it…? I could vaguely recall that it was something unique, but nothing more concrete than that.
“I gotta say, Shimamura, you’re pretty careless.”
“I’m sorry?”
Facing forward with her hands on the shafts, she chuckled. “You really shouldn’t get in without asking what it costs first. Eee hee hee!” She sounded like a little kid who just pulled a prank.
“Well, how much is it?”
“Three thousand yen for fifteen minutes.”
“Rip-off!” Fifteen minutes? We’d barely make it down the street!
“Good thing the two of you can split the cost. How does that saying go again? Joy shared is joy doubled; sorrow shared is fifty percent off?”
“Not sure that’s correct, but I get what you’re saying.”
I opened the parasol and adjusted its position so a shadow would be cast over both of us. It dyed our skin as if soaked by purple rain. Most likely it didn’t deflect the heat in the slightest, but the purple made it look colder, at least.
“I kind of like it,” I remarked, and Adachi smiled gently, her face painted in purple shadow—soft, pale, peaceful. All the things the old Adachi never had.
“Okay, folks, first up: here we have some ojizo statues.”
Within moments, a…tourist attraction?…had appeared right next to the rickshaw’s big wheels: six statues wearing red caps and bibs. “Those are ojizo statues, all right.”
“Yep.” The rickshaw moved past without even stopping.
“Uhhh…don’t you have any anecdotes or trivia about them…?”
“No? I’m not from here, remember?”
“…Oooookay.”
“If you want all the nitty-gritty details, I can refer you to a different rickshaw after we’re done.”
“Great sales ethics.”
“Let me ask the pretty lady: Would you rather hear about the local places of interest, or stories about Shimamura in junior high?”
“Let’s not, actually!”
“Shimamura in junior high,” Adachi answered, leaning forward eagerly.
“Stooop,” I whined, shaking her by the shoulder. “Forget the past—let’s talk about the future, Adachi!”
“It was the spring of her first year, and a teammate was yelling at her to ‘pass the damn ball.’ In response, young Shimamura What’s-Her-Name said, ‘Okay, how’s this?’ and flung it directly—”
“STOOOOPPPP!” How could she remember that trivial moment when she didn’t even remember what I looked like?
Incidentally, it had taken place during our first training camp, and in response the girl kicked me, at which point it became an all-out catfight. Some teammate I turned out to be. I wanted nothing more than to take bitter little junior high Shima-chan, bury her in a ditch, and put a popsicle stick in place of a headstone. Problem was, judging from the look in her eyes, Adachi wanted to grab the brat’s hand and rescue her.
“Adachi, seriously, do you really want to hear about that?”
“I’m torn… Part of me wants to know, but part of me is scared that once I find out, I’ll feel bad that I wasn’t there for you.” She pressed a hand to her chest as she confessed to this contradiction. I could understand the feeling, but…
“You don’t need to know about it, and frankly, I’m glad you weren’t there. I wasn’t a nice person by any stretch of the imagination.” If we’d met back then, we probably would have given each other bad vibes and a wide berth.
“Oh? So now you’re a nice person?” Senpai cut in.
I pursed my lips slightly, giving it some thought. “Well, I’m making an effort.”
“Hey, that’s awesome!” Her face lit up like it was exactly what she was hoping to hear. “And yet the pretty lady’s got struggle written all over her.”
“Excuse me?” The impolite observation turned Adachi’s blank expression to ice.
Ooh, is this the rumored Frigid Adachi? Should have known Senpai would have the power to lure her out. I’m definitely not that brave.
“I love people like you.”
“Excuse me?” Adachi repeated, her voice growing barbed.
But Senpai kept on smiling like she wasn’t worried. At the same time, her cheeks were stiff from summoning the strength to pull the rickshaw. Her face was multitasking. Still, I was grateful to her for changing the subject away from junior high.