At the rental shop, Sakuta began by apologizing for not picking up the car at his reservation time.
“Sorry, my girlfriend showed up late,” he said, using Miori as an excuse.
She was waiting outside the shop, and when she saw him looking, she smiled and waved. She couldn’t hear a word of this, yet she played his “girlfriend” perfectly.
He showed his license, ran through the standard explanations, and came away with the keys. A nimble little compact was waiting for them.
Sakuta got in the driver’s seat, and Miori took the passenger side.
They pulled out of the rental lot and drove off down Ofuna Nishi-Kamakura Road. The Shonan Monorail ran overhead, and every now and then, they’d chase or pass each other. Sometimes it was pretty neck and neck, giving this drive an added thrill.
Even Miori said, “Wow, the monorail’s right next to us!”
“You do much driving since you got your license?”
“Nope. Don’t feel like it.”
“Because your friend got hit by a car?”
“……”
Miori didn’t answer. She just kept looking away from him, out the window.
For a while, they matched pace with the monorail.
The rain had stopped.
“Touko was always asking me the same thing.”
“……”
“‘Miori, I want you to sing the songs I write.’”
The car stopped at a red light.
The engine noise faded, leaving just the two of them in silence.
“But I always said no,” she whispered.
“……”
Sakuta kept his eyes on the traffic light, saying nothing.
“She asked so much we had a fight about it.”
“……”
“We didn’t speak to each other for a full week. That was the first time something like that ever happened.”
“……”
The light turned green.
Sakuta pulled out.
The scenery swept by on either side. Oncoming traffic zipped by.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Miori staring out the passenger window. From the driver’s seat, he couldn’t see the look on her face.
“We were supposed to make up that day.”
“The day she died?”
“Yeah. Christmas Eve. Split a curry bun and be friends again.”
Miori made a sound that was sort of like a laugh, sort of like a sigh.
She’d said too little for him to read the emotions behind it.
It might have been regret. Might have been grief. There was no way he could know for sure. The state of Miori’s mind was unfathomable. He couldn’t peer into those depths. Whatever truth lay within was beyond Sakuta’s reach.
It even seemed like there might be no emotions here.
And that’s why Sakuta couldn’t figure out what to say.
Hands on the steering wheel, he found his lips moving on their own.
“Well, you could split a curry bun with me today.”
He glanced over at her.
“I’m pretty hungry,” she said, dodging him. “I could easily eat two.”
“Then we’ll buy four and split them. That still counts as splitting, right?” he said, not skipping a beat.
“Oh, you are obnoxious,” Miori cackled.
No matter how much laughter filled the car, the distance between them never shrank. The more fun Miori seemed to be having, the more obvious that was to Sakuta. It was almost painfully clear.