When I was little, I could keep my eyes open underwater.
I could see everything around me clearly, even without goggles or a swim mask. Right before my eyes, bubbles large and small rushed this way and that, then burst softly. It was as if I were watching a silent fireworks display.
I believed that if I could hold my breath long enough, I’d be able to pass through the water into another world.
But the tightness in my chest would always force me up. My face would break through the water’s surface, and I’d be met with bright-blue sky and white clouds. My world of silence would be gone, and I’d be thrust once again into deafening reality, with its school bells and screaming cicadas.
There’s only one world, after all.
Obviously.
But that summer…
I’m certain I experienced another… No, it wasn’t just one.
I spent time in several worlds with her—wishing worlds.
I remember the propellers of the wind turbines, the beam of the lighthouse, the train track running along the coast, and the pool with its painted walls peeling…
I remember the rusted metal door screeching as it swung open, the age-old beech tree that stood at the fork in the road, and the classroom filled with excited chatter…
Lingering across every one of those scenes is her image.
I see her from behind, as she stares into the ocean, her face as she turns around in the classroom, her practiced form as she swims through the pool—and I remember that moment when she stood in her yukata with the setting sun behind her and her eyes transfixed on mine…
I remember her sobbing pleas.
“Norimichi!!”
✦ ✦ ✦
And I seem to remember distorted scenes, warped sounds, and skewed voices among the wishing worlds I visited that summer.
Her name was Nazuna.
If only… That summer… If only I’d… If only she’d… If only…we could go back to that moment…