“Weren’t we going to go (just about) anywhere, my dear Adachi-chan?”
“I’d rather stay right here today.” The mumbled reply came from an almost suffocating proximity. She was sitting between my legs, facing forward, her hair brushing against my cheek.
“I see.” Well, if that’s what she wants.
That Sunday, we hadn’t yet set foot outside our condo. We were cuddled up on the couch, whiling away the time. And when I asked her what she wanted to do, her answer was that she wanted to make me her personal recliner.
I glanced at the empty spot next to us. This couch was more than big enough for two people to sit side by side, so with both of us cuddling in one seat, it seemed downright oversized…or perhaps we were simply being space-efficient. When we first sat down, Adachi had hunched to avoid crushing me, but now she was so exhausted that she entrusted me with her full weight, and I pressed my lips against her shoulder.
There was plenty of time left in the day; the sun had barely risen into the sky. For some strange reason, that thought filled me with warmth. The downside, however, was that the May weather was warm enough on its own, so in a way I felt like I was being smothered by an affectionate Labrador. If I said that aloud, would Adachi get mad at me?
“Like a dog…” The words slipped out unconsciously. Oops. I had a bad habit of speaking without thinking.
“What?”
“I said, um…I like dogs. They’re cute.”
“Oh…uh…yeah.”
She didn’t sound very enthused, which came as no surprise. Was having only one interest in the entire world easier? Or was it miserable? Either way, I had the power to shape Adachi’s entire life, and it was a big responsibility.
There wasn’t much else to say about dogs, so I just sat there and zoned out—that is, until Adachi attempted to continue the conversation.
“Do you ever think about getting a dog?”
“Mmm…” Before I could stop it, the ghost of an old friend appeared before me. I waited until he turned to look at me, then gently closed my eyes. “This place doesn’t allow pets.”
“Okay, but what if it did?”
“Even then, I don’t think I’d want one. It’s too hard to say goodbye.” In the past, I would’ve done anything to avoid answering this question, but with Adachi, I was honest. “Nothing is forever, and it sucks.” That was why I fought so hard to ensure that things always ended on a high note—even if it meant straight-up lying to myself.
I combed through Adachi’s hair, the faintly chilly strands gliding between my fingers.
“But if everything always stayed the same”—Adachi’s head swayed slightly—“I never would’ve known that saying goodbye could be hard at all.”
She turned to look at me.
“No matter what, I’m glad I met you, Shimamura,” she declared as her cheeks began to flush, her face like a pitcher slowly filling with scarlet liquid. “I…I love you.”
There was something beautiful in the way she self-destructed. At this point, it was like an art form unto itself.
“Th-thanks?”
Did she think I wouldn’t get flustered, considering that we were close enough for strands of our hair to intertwine? Then again, with her power, she could fluster me from any distance. She stared at me, waiting patiently for me to carry out her unsaid order, and as I met her gaze, I did so:
“I love you too. The same as I always have.” As usual, I chose to conclude with the poetry of forever.
However, Adachi wasn’t satisfied. “Just ‘the same’?”
“What?”
“Well…I kind of wish you loved me more than before.”
“Greedy girl, aren’t you, Adachi-chan?”
But maybe that was what made our life together worthwhile. After all, if I wanted to stay in the same place perpetually, that was what memories were for.
“Going forward, I pledge to do better.” To think more of you…and the road ahead of us. “Sound good?”
“Yeah.” She seemed pleased, despite my flippant tone.
When I saw that serious look in her eyes, though, I felt the urge to make it silly. “Plus, I mean…one dog is enough for a lifetime, don’t you think?” If we got another, she’d get jealous! Ha!
“Wait…are you talking about me?” Adachi asked. She pointed at herself, eyes wide with confusion.
“Ha ha ha!”
She pouted in annoyance at my laugh. “I’m nothing like a dog.”
At one time, I’d always imagined her with a wagging tail. Even now, I could sometimes picture her with droopy ears. “You were so cute back then…”
“What about now?”
Caught off-guard, I very nearly blurted out the thought I’d just had about her droopy ears. “Huh?”
“Am I not…cute anymore?”
When I looked down at the sad puppy dog in question and saw her gazing back anxiously, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re adorable.”
As I stroked her hair, she closed her eyes and accepted it in silence. Given her personality, it felt so wrong for her to be taller than me, yet there was something cozy about the contrast.
“This is kind of nice.”
We already had a pet mooch, and believe it or not, I was fairly content with that. After all—though I couldn’t prove it—I was reasonably confident that Yashiro wouldn’t die before I did, and that thought put me at ease. I needed at least one person to outlive me so that, after time’s long, winding river wore away everything else in my life, I wouldn’t have to feel alone. Again, there was no proof that I’d live longer than everyone else. Since I slept more than most, though, I suspected that it was a possibility.
I waited for Adachi to face forward, then spoke. “Sometimes I feel like…the point of meeting someone is to try to make something of it. And I’m not just talking about you and me.”
Every now and then, I found myself gripped with stone-cold conviction that sent shivers down my spine, urging me to leave my mark on the world.
✦ ✦ ✦
✦ ✦ ✦
“Uhhh…”
I knew I needed to say something more. For her part, Adachi offered nothing but plain puzzlement. To be fair, the desire I’d voiced probably didn’t make sense to someone who only ever lived in the moment. Still, that was something I dearly admired about her.
“On second thought, never mind.”
Shrugging it off, I went back to burying my face in Adachi’s shoulder, eyes squinting in the sunlight. Outside our window, the skies were still clear and blue.
✦ ✦ ✦
“What’ll it be today…?”
Later that evening, I stood at the fridge with my arms folded, pondering aloud. As I did, I heard…
“How about some nice, cold hiyamugi noodles?”
“You again?” And this time, she’d manifested out of thin air onto my shoulders. But I hadn’t even noticed that she was there until she spoke. “You sure love noodles, hm?”
“I love all food.”
“Good. That makes things easy.”
Sky-blue motes wafted like spores from her weightless body. When I caught one on my finger, it melted, perhaps from my body heat. Is her whole body made of these? I had yet to witness the vast reaches of the universe and surely never would, but for a moment I paused to reflect on it.
“For lunch today, I partook of an apple.”
“Didn’t ask.”
She shimmied down my body to the floor, then looked back up at me, her eyes more sparkly than ever. “Oh ho! It seems that you have decided.”
Were those eyes all-seeing, or was I simply this obvious? I nodded. “I want to make something Adachi might like.”
Giving her more things to love—more things to think of whenever she thought of me—was my goal from now on.
“Yay!” Yashiro raised both hands into the air. She seemed to do so purely on reflex; still, something about it felt a tiny bit encouraging.