CHAPTER TWO Cosmonaut 1 The morning sun hangs just a little above the horizon, striking blinding reflections off the surrounding water. The sky is a flawless blue, the water is warm against my skin, and my body feels practically weightless. Right now, I’m floating in a sea of light, all alone. At times like this, I can believe I’m something really special—and just a little lucky… Even though, right now, I’ve got lots of problems. Maybe I’m too easygoing, and I’m too quick to believe I’m lucky. Maybe that’s where all my problems come from, I think, but still, I cheerfully start paddling toward the next wave. The ocean is so incredibly pretty in the morning: the smooth motion of the wave as it gradually builds, the complex colors I can’t put into words. As I gaze at it, enraptured, I try to make the board I’m riding skim over the face of the roller. I feel myself being buoyed up, and I start to stand, then immediately lose my balance and tumble under the wave. I messed up again. I got a little seawater up my nose, and the backs of my eyes sting. Problem one: In the past six months, I haven’t successfully caught a single wave. At the back of the parking lot (actually just an open space full of weeds) that’s one step up from the beach, screened by some tall plants, I strip off my skintight rash guard, then my swimsuit. Naked, I spray tap water from the hose over my head, briskly dry off, then change into my school uniform. There’s nobody around. The stiff sea wind feels good on my flushed skin. My hair is so short it doesn’t reach my shoulders, and it dries in no time. The morning sun throws strong shadows from the weeds onto my white sailor blouse. I always love the ocean, but mornings in this season are a particular favorite of mine. If this were winter, the moment when I got out of the ocean and changed clothes would be the hardest one. As I’m applying lip balm to soothe the dryness, I hear my big sister drive up in her Honda minivan, and I grab my surfboard and sports bag, heading over to the car. My sister is wearing a red tracksuit as she opens the driver’s side window and calls to me. “How did it go, Kanae?” She’s pretty, with long, perfectly straight hair—she’s calm; she’s smart. She’s also a high school teacher, eight years older than me, and a long time ago, I didn’t like her very much. When I think back and analyze why—if I had to say, it was because I was vague and ordinary, while my big sister was gorgeous. I had a complex about her. I like her now, though. By the time she graduated from college and came back to the island, I genuinely looked up to her. If she wore something cute, instead of a dowdy tracksuit, she’d look much, much prettier. If she was too beautiful, though, she might draw too much attention on a little island like ours. “No luck today, either. The wind was offshore the whole time, but even then.” As I answer, I’m putting my surfboard in the trunk. “Well, just take it slow. Are you coming back again after school?” “Yeah, I want to. Will that work for you, Sis?” “Sure. Make sure you study, too, though.” “I will!” Responding loudly to shut her up, I head over to my bike, which is parked in a corner of the lot. It’s an old, school-designated Honda Super Cub, a hand-me-down from my sister. There aren’t any trains on this island, and not many buses, either, so most high schoolers get their bike licenses as soon as they turn sixteen. Bikes are handy, and riding around the island feels good, but you can’t carry a surfboard on a bike, so when I go to the ocean, my sister always brings the car over for me. From here, we’ll go to school together. I’ll be taking classes, and she’ll be teaching them. As I turn the ignition key, I check my watch. It’s seven forty-five. Yes, it’ll be all right. I’m sure he’s still practicing. I set off on the Cub, following my sister’s car, leaving the coast behind. I started bodyboarding in my freshmen year of high school, due to my sister’s influence, and on the very first day, I completely caught the surfing bug. My sister had been in the surfing club at her university, and the way she surfed was very athletic, as opposed to just following the trends. (For the first three months, all I did was practice the basics that would let me head out to sea. Nothing but “Paddle! Duck dive!” until the sun went down.) Still, heading out into something as unfathomably vast as the ocean was a beautiful experience to me, although I didn’t understand why. Then, one sunny day in my second year of high school, when I was thoroughly used to bodyboarding, I found myself wanting to stand on a wave. To do that, I’d need to ride either a shortboard or a longboard. I was a fad chaser, and I switched to a shortboard on the spot because I believed that was “true” surfing. Back when I started learning, I managed to ride a few waves by accident, but ever since then, I haven’t been able to catch a single one. Shortboards were hard, and I considered throwing in the towel and going back to my bodyboard, but I hated to backtrack on a decision I’d already made. So I hesitated and dragged my feet. While that was going on, I started my third year of high school, and then it was summer. Anyway, not being able to catch a wave on a shortboard is one of my worries. I’m on my way to tackle the second worry right now. Spak! The pleasant sound reaches me faintly through the twittering of early birds. It’s the sound of an arrow punching through a stretched paper target. It’s currently 8:10, and I’m nervously standing in the shadow of the school building. A minute ago, I peeked out around the corner, and as usual, he was the only one on the archery range. He practices archery on his own every morning, which is actually one of the reasons I practice surfing then, too. If he’s devoting himself to something that early in the day, I want to give something my all, too. When he’s focused on drawing his bow, he’s truly a sight for sore eyes. But I’m not shameless enough to stare from close by, so I’ve only ever watched him practice from about a hundred meters away, like I’m doing now. Plus, he doesn’t know I watch. For no particular reason, I brush off my skirt, lightly tug the hem of my sailor blouse to straighten it, and take a deep breath. Okay! Act natural. I start off toward the archery range. “Oh, good morning.” As always, when he sees me, he stops practicing and talks to me. Eeeee! Aw, he really is nice. He has a calm, deep voice, too. Heart thumping, I play it cool and walk slowly. I want it to look as if I just happened to be passing the archery range. I answer him carefully, so that my voice won’t crack. “Morning, Tohno. You’re always here so early.” “You too, Sumida. You’ve already been to the beach, right?” “Uh-huh.” “You’re really putting a lot of work in.” “Huh?” I wasn’t expecting a compliment, and I flinch. Uh-oh. I’m sure I’m blushing all the way to my ears. “I-it’s not really… Eh-heh-heh! Okay, Tohno, I’ll see you later!” Flustered with happiness and embarrassment, I break into a run. “Sure, see you later,” I hear his kind voice say behind me. Problem two: I have a crush on him. I have for five years, to be honest. His name is Takaki Tohno. And the six months before we graduate high school are all the time I have left to spend with him. That brings me to problem three, which is summed up in the piece of paper that’s sitting on my desk. It’s 8:35, and I’m in morning homeroom. Vaguely, I can hear the voice of our homeroom teacher, Mr. Matsuno. “Listen up. You’re gonna need to make up your minds soon. Talk it over with your folks and fill those in.” Et cetera, et cetera. The paper says, THIRD FUTURE COURSE SURVEY. I have absolutely no idea what to write. It’s 12:50. In the classroom, they’re playing classical music during lunch. It’s a piece I’ve heard somewhere before. For some reason, whenever I hear it, it makes me think of skating penguins. What memory is this song linked to for me? I try to remember the name of the piece, promptly give up, and instead eat the rolled omelet from the box lunch my mom made for me. It’s sweet and yummy and full of happiness, spreading through my taste buds to the rest of me. Yukko, Saki, and I have pushed our desks together for lunch. For the past little while, the other two have been talking about future courses. “I hear Sasaki is taking the test for a university in Tokyo.” “Sasaki? You mean Kyouko?” “No, no, the one in Class One.” “Oh, the literature club Sasaki. Yeah, that sounds about right.” At the words Class One, I tense up a little. That’s Tohno’s class. At my high school, there are three classes for each school year. Classes One and Two are general education, and Class One in particular is geared toward students who want to go on to college. Class Three is the trade course; it has lots of students who are planning to go to vocational school or start working after graduation, and the highest percentage of members who’ll be staying on the island. I’m in Class Three. I haven’t heard yet, but I think Tohno’s probably planning to go to college. I can sense that he probably wants to go back to Tokyo. The thought of it takes all the flavor out of my omelet. “What about you, Kanae?” Yukko turns to me unexpectedly, and I don’t know what to say. “You were going to start working, right?” Saki asks. “Um…,” I mumble. The thing is, I have no idea. “You really don’t have anything in mind, do you?” Saki says with a sigh. “Nothing in there except Tohno,” Yukko adds. “I’d bet you anything he has a girlfriend in Tokyo,” says Saki. “Noooooo!” I whine in spite of myself. “Heh-heh!” They both laugh. My secret feelings aren’t much of a secret with them. “Forget it. I’m going to go get a yoghurppe at the co-op,” I say sulkily, getting up. I sound like I’m joking, but the “Takaki Tohno’s Tokyo girlfriend” theory hits me pretty hard. “Huh?! You’re buying more?! That’s your second one.” “Well, I’m thirsty.” “Of course you are, surfer girl.” I ignore their banter and walk down the winding hall by myself. Along the way, I glance at a row of framed pictures on the wall. They’re photos of rockets being launched, spouting great clouds of smoke. H-II ROCKET F4 LAUNCH—AUGUST 17, 1996, 10:53. H-II ROCKET F6 LAUNCH—NOVEMBER 28, 1997, 6:27… There are rumors that every time a launch succeeds, somebody from NASDA stops by and gives us another photo. I’ve seen several launches myself. As the rockets climb into infinity, trailing white smoke, they’re clearly visible from anywhere on the island. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen one in the past few years. Tohno’s only been on the island for five years; has he seen a launch at all? It would be great if we saw one together someday. If it’s his first one, the view will probably be fantastic, and if we watch it together, just the two of us, I bet it would bring us a little closer. Oh, but we only have half a year of high school left. Will there even be a launch between now and then? Actually, will I even figure out how to ride a wave before then? I want Tohno to see me surf someday, but not if I’m gonna look dumb. No way. I always want him to see me at my very best. Just half a year left. No, no, Tohno might stay on the island after graduation; it’s not completely out of the question. If he does, we’ll still have plenty of chances. In that case, my future course is definitely going to be “Find a job on the island.” That said, I really can’t imagine him doing that… Somehow, the island life just doesn’t suit him. Hmm… And that’s how it goes: My worries always revolve around Tohno, taking me in circles. The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t afford to keep worrying forever. That’s why I’ve decided that I need to catch a wave. When I do, I’m going to tell Tohno I like him. 7:10 PM. Just a little while ago, the calls of bear cicadas filled the air, but somewhere in there, a chorus of evening cicadas took their place. Before long, those will probably be replaced by bush crickets. My surroundings are already gloomy, but the light of the evening sun still lingers in the sky, and the high clouds shine golden. When I gaze up at them, I can tell they’re traveling west. I was at the beach until a minute ago, and the wind was blowing onshore—that’s when the wind blows in from the ocean and messes up the shape of the waves—but the waves might be easier to ride now that it’s going the other way. Not that it gives me much more confidence. From the shadow of the school building, I watch the motorbike parking lot. There aren’t many bikes left, and I don’t see any students near the school gate. All clubs are done for the day. Which means I went surfing after class, then came back, and now I’m hiding behind the school and waiting for Tohno to visit the bike parking lot. (When I put it like that, even I think it’s a little creepy.) But he might have gone home already. Maybe I should’ve gotten out of the ocean a little earlier… Still, I decide to wait just a bit longer. The surfing problem, the Tohno problem, and the future course problem: Those are currently my three biggest issues, but of course they’re not the only ones. There’s my tan, for instance. My skin isn’t naturally dark (I don’t think), but no matter how much sunscreen I slather on, I have by far the deepest tan of anybody in my grade. My sister says that’s only natural for a surfer, and Yukko and Saki say it’s healthy and attractive, but I still feel like having a deeper tan than the boy I like doesn’t bode well. Tohno’s skin is pale and pretty. Then there’s my bust, which isn’t growing all that well (my sister’s is big, even though we’ve got the same DNA), my catastrophic math grades, my lack of fashion sense, my strong health (because I feel like it’s cuter to catch a cold sometimes), and all kinds of other things. It’s a whole pile of problems. But there’s no point sitting here counting all the strikes against me. I steal another peek at the bike parking lot. In the distance, I see an unmistakable silhouette walking toward me. Yesss! I’m so glad I waited! Go me! Quickly, I take a deep breath, then casually start toward the parking lot. “Huh? Sumida? You’re heading home now?” His voice is as kind as always. Under the lights of the parking lot, I can see him more and more clearly. His frame is tall and slender; his hair is just a bit too long and gets in his eyes a little, and his footsteps are always so calm. “Uh-huh… You too, Tohno?” I think my voice is trembling somewhat. Argh, for crying out loud, I really wish I’d get used to this already. “Yeah. Want to ride home together, then?” If I had a tail like a dog, I’m sure I’d be wagging up a storm by now. Oh, I’m so glad I’m not a dog. I don’t want him to see everything I’m feeling, I think, and I mean it. I’m frustrated with myself for not being able to have more sophisticated ideas in my head, but I’m still just plain happy to be going home with him. We ride in single file along a narrow road that runs between fields of sugarcane. Tohno is in front, and watching him ahead of me makes me happy. The depths of my chest are hot, and the back of my nose twinges the way it does when I’ve wiped out surfing. I think, without knowing why, that happiness and sadness are similar. From the very beginning, Tohno was a little different from the other boys. He transferred to Tanegashima from Tokyo in the spring of our second year of middle school. I still remember so clearly how he looked on the day of our Year Two opening ceremony. This boy I’d never seen before stood tall in front of the blackboard; he didn’t seem at all daunted or nervous, and there was a tranquil smile on his handsome face. “I’m Takaki Tohno. Due to my father’s work, my family moved here from Tokyo three days ago. I’m used to transferring schools, but I’m not used to this island yet. I’m looking forward to being part of your class.” His voice was calm, and he didn’t speak too fast or too slow or hesitate. His sophisticated standard accent was so lovely it made me tingle. He was like somebody from TV. If I’d been in his shoes—if I’d transferred from a major metropolis to a remote island way out in the sticks or vice versa—I’m sure my face would have been bright red, and my mind would’ve been a pure-white blank. I would’ve been so self-conscious about my unique accent that I wouldn’t have made any sense. How was it that this boy, who was my own age, could speak so clearly and be so nonchalant, as if there wasn’t anybody watching him at all? What had his life been like? What was he like on the inside, behind his black school uniform? I’d never wanted to know anything so badly in my life. In that moment, I’d already fallen in love. It was like destiny. After that, my life changed. It seemed as if he were between me and the town, the school, and reality itself. During class and after school, even when I was walking my dog on the beach, I was always looking for him out of the corner of my eye. Although he’d seemed cool and rather aloof at first glance, he was actually cheerful and friendly, and he made a lot of friends in no time. Not only that, but he was mature enough to make friends with guys and girls, so if I timed things right, I got to talk to him as often as I wanted. In high school, we were in different classes, but it was a miracle we’d ended up at the same school. Not that we had many options on this island. Besides, with his grades, he probably could have gone to any high school he wanted; maybe he just chose the closest one. I still liked him as much as ever. In five years, those feelings hadn’t faded at all; as a matter of fact, they’d grown stronger little by little, day by day. I did want to become special to him, to be his one and only, but honestly, being in love with him was just about all I could handle already. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what my life would be like if we did start going out. Whenever I saw Tohno, at school or in town, I ended up liking him more. It was frightening and painful, but it was fun, too. I was completely helpless. Seven thirty PM. On our way home, we stop at a convenience store called I-Shop. I manage to go home with Tohno about 0.7 times per week—in other words, once a week when I’m lucky, once every two weeks if I’m not—and at some point, we fell into the habit of detouring to I-Shop on the way. Even if it is a convenience store, it also closes at nine PM and sells flower seeds and daikon radishes (with the dirt still on them) that the neighborhood ladies have grown. But it still carries a pretty wide range of snacks and things, too. The cable broadcast is playing J-pop hits. The ranks of fluorescent lights on the ceiling fill the small store with a bright, whitish light. Tohno always buys the same thing—a carton of Daily Coffee. I’m never sure what I should get, and I always hesitate. The fundamental question is: What choice will make me the most attractive? If I got the same coffee as him, it would look like I was intentionally trying to get his attention (which, I mean, I am, but…); milk seems kind of thoughtless to me. Daily Fruits has a cute yellow package, but I don’t really like how it tastes. I’m actually pretty intrigued by Daily Black Vinegar, but it would be a little too out-there. While I’m struggling over the decision, Tohno says, “Hey, Sumida, I’m gonna pay for mine,” and heads over to the register. Argh! I liked having him there next to me. Hastily, I end up grabbing my usual Daily Yoghurppe. How many have I had today? I bought one at the school co-op after second period, then had two at lunch, so this is number four. I wonder if I’m five percent yoghurppe by volume now. When I leave the convenience store and turn the corner, Tohno’s leaning against his bike, texting, and I involuntarily duck into the shadows behind the mailbox. The sky is already dark navy, and only the windswept clouds still carry traces of the red evening sun. It won’t be long until it’s full night on the island. The air is filled with insect songs and the rustling of the swaying sugarcane. I catch the smell of dinner from somebody’s house. It’s dark, and I can’t make out his expression. Only the LCD screen of his phone is clear and bright. Working hard to look cheerful, I walk over to him. Noticing me, he slips his phone back into his pocket, then kindly says, “Welcome back, Sumida. What did you get?” “Mm, it was hard to choose, but I ended up going with yoghurppe. This is actually my fourth one today. Impressed?” “What? Wow, I didn’t know you were such a fan. Come to think of it, you do always get that, don’t you?” As we talk, my attention goes to my own phone, in the sports bag I’m carrying over my shoulder. I wish I were the one Tohno was texting, I think, something I’ve wished thousands of times before… But I’ve never gotten a text from him, so I can’t exactly send him any. No matter who I date later on, I’ll give them my full attention when I’m with them. I won’t look at my stupid phone. I don’t want to make my partners nervous that I might be thinking about somebody else. The thought comes to me with intense emotion. As I talk to the boy I’m hopelessly in love with, under an early night sky with just a few stars, I make a firm resolution while the urge to cry stirs inside me. 2 The waves today are high, and there are lots of them. The wind is a little onshore, though, so most of those waves are crumbly. It’s 5:40 PM. I’ve attacked dozens of wave sets since I got here after school, but I still haven’t managed to ride a single one. Of course, anybody can stand up on soup—the white water that’s left after a wave has broken—but I want to ride one while it peaks and slide down its face like a real surfer. While I desperately paddle out to sea, I’m enchanted by the ocean and the sky. There are thick clouds today, so why does the sky look so high? The sea reflects the depth of the clouds, and its colors change from moment to moment. When I’m paddling, there’s only a few centimeters between the ocean and my eyes, and yet that complex surface changes dramatically. I want to stand up, right this minute. I want to know what the ocean looks like from one hundred fifty-four centimeters up. No artist could capture the ocean I’m seeing now, I think, no matter how good they are. Photos wouldn’t do it justice, either, or videos. In our Information Science class today, we learned that HDTV in the twenty-first century is composed of about 1,900 pixels across. But even that incredibly high definition wouldn’t be up to this at all. A thousand nine hundred times a thousand is just a million pixels and change—it could never capture what I’m seeing. I wonder if the teacher who was talking about it during class, or the people who invented HDTV, or the movie-makers really believe that’s still pretty enough. From a distance, I bet even I’m pretty in this scene, I think. I hope it’s true. I want Tohno to see me. And that thought draws up the memory of school today. During lunch, when I was eating with Yukko and Saki like always, I got summoned over the school PA system: “Kanae Sumida from Year Three, Class Three. Please come to the student guidance office.” I knew what it was about, but I was mostly embarrassed at the thought that Tohno might have heard that. He and my sister. The student guidance office was practically empty. Mr. Itou, the career counselor, was sitting there with a printout in front of him. It was my future course survey; I’d just written my name and turned it in blank. Through the open window, I could hear a raucous chorus of cicadas reminding me it was summer, but the room itself was cool. The clouds were moving at a fast clip, making the sunlight flicker slowly. It was an east wind. Thinking about how many waves there’d be today, I sat down across from the teacher. “Listen, Sumida. You’re the only one in your grade who hasn’t decided yet,” Mr. Itou said with a rather pointed sigh. He seemed annoyed by all this. “I’m sorry…,” I murmured, but I couldn’t think of anything else to add. The teacher fell silent, too. Neither of us said anything for a little while. [Circle the applicable items in Sections 1 through 3.] That’s what the scrawled letters on the rough paper said. With nothing else to do, I stared at them. 1. College (A: Four-year university B: Junior college) 2. Trade school 3. Employment (A: Region B: Occupation category) In the college section, there were the additional options of national, public, and private and then a looong list of department names: medicine, dentistry, pharmacy, science, engineering, farming, fishing, commerce, literature, law, economics, foreign languages, education. The junior college and trade school sections were the same way. Music, art, early childhood education, nutrition, fashion, computer, medical/nursing, cooking, hairdressing, tourism, media, government employee… Just reading the lists made me dizzy. In the employment section, there were regional choices. That list included: on the island, within Kagoshima Prefecture, Kyushu, western Japan, eastern Japan, and other. I looked at the words on the island and eastern Japan in turn. Tokyo, I thought. I’d never been there, and come to think of it, I’d never wanted to go. As far as I was concerned, here in 1999, Tokyo was basically Shibuya. It had gangs (!); high school girls who sold their underwear; rampant crime that kept the city in a constant state of emergency; and ridiculously huge buildings like the Fuji Television building and its mysterious and pointless giant silver ball. Then I visualized Tohno in a blazer, holding hands with a high school girl with loose socks, fair skin, and brown hair, and I hastily shut down my imagination. I heard Mr. Itou sigh heavily again. “Look, I probably shouldn’t be sayin’ this, but there’s no need to fret so much. With your grades, it’ll be either trade school, junior college, or work. If your folks allow, then a trade school or junior college on Kyushu. If they don’t, you can get a job in Kagoshima. That’s all you need to do. What does Ms. Sumida say, anyhow?” “Um…,” I murmured softly, then went silent again. My emotions churned, around and around. Why had he gone out of his way to summon me over the PA system, then brought up my big sister? Why did he have a beard? Why was he wearing sandals? Whatever the answers, I prayed that lunch would be over soon. “Sumidaaa, I can’t read your mind, y’know.” “Yes sir… Um, I’m sorry.” “Talk it over with your sister tonight. I’ll mention it to her, too.” I wondered why, why he managed to only ever do things I hate. As I’m paddling out to sea, I see a fairly big swell right in front of me. The foam-crested wave comes toward me, kicking up spray, almost like a roller. Just before it runs into me, I shove my board underwater, duck under myself, and let the wave go by. There really are a lot of waves today. I duck dive over and over, heading farther out. Not here, I think. Here won’t work. I need to go farther out, much farther. My arms spin desperately. The water is really heavy. Not here, not here— I repeat it in my heart, again and again, like a spell. Then, suddenly, I realize that those words remind me of Tohno. Every so often, I have moments like this. When I’m heading toward a wave, something will suddenly occur to me, like a psychic vision. When Tohno texts somebody by the convenience store after school, and in the deserted motorbike parking lot, and behind the school early in the morning, I can hear those words like a scream: “Not here.” I know that, Tohno. After all, it’s like that for me, too. You’re not the only one who thinks you don’t belong here, Tohno. Tohno, Tohno, Tohno— As I repeat his name in my mind, a wave lifts me up before I’m really ready. I try to stand, but the wave instantly crumbles and pitches me into the sea, headfirst. I accidentally swallow some saltwater, and I scramble to the surface, clinging to my board and coughing. With the snot and tears coming from my nose and eyes, it feels like I really am crying. In the car on the way back to school, my sister doesn’t bring up my future course. Seven forty-five PM. I’m crouched in front of the drink case at the convenience store. I’m alone this time. I waited in front of the motorbike parking lot for a while, but Tohno never showed up. Nothing went my way today. So I just buy another yoghurppe. I lean against my bike, which is parked at the side of the store, and chug the sweet liquid in one go. Then I put on my helmet and straddle the motorbike. There’s still a faint brightness along the western horizon. As I ride along a byway on high ground, I watch it out of the corner of my eye. On my left, the whole town spreads out below me; off in the distance, on the other side of a forest, I can see the coastline, too. On my right, beyond the farm fields, the ground rises into a modest hill. This island is relatively flat, but the view from here is good. It’s also on Tohno’s way home. If I ride slowly, he might catch up to me. Or has he really gone on ahead? My bike’s engine coughs, stalls for just a moment, then goes back to running normally as if nothing had happened. This Cub is an old lady. “You okay, Cub?” I murmur. Just then, up ahead, I see a bike parked by the side of the road. That’s his! Somehow, I just know, and I stop alongside it. Almost on instinct, I begin climbing the slope with the soft summer grass under my feet. Oh shoot. What in the world am I doing? I come to my senses with a jolt. When I take a closer look, I notice that the bike really is Tohno’s, but think: What exactly am I doing, barging in on him like this? It would be better if we didn’t meet this way, obviously. It would certainly be better for me. But my feet keep moving, and when I cross a steep rise in the grass, there he is. He’s sitting on the crest of the hill, with the starry sky at his back. He’s texting again. A gust of wind blows through, stirring my heart, and ruffles my hair and clothes. The sound of whispering grass fills the air. My heart answers by thumping loudly, and I climb the slope noisily on purpose so I won’t have to hear it. “Hey, Tohno!” “Huh? Sumida? What’s the matter? How did you know I was here? I’m impressed.” Tohno seems a little startled; his voice is loud. “Heh-heh-heh… I saw your bike, so I came over! That okay?” I’m still walking toward him quickly. I’m telling myself, This isn’t a big deal. “Oh, I see. I’m glad. I didn’t see you in the parking lot today.” “Same here!” I say as cheerfully as I can. I let my sports bag slip off my shoulder and sit down next to him. He’s happy? Are you really, Tohno? My heart stings a little. That always happens when I go to him. For just a moment, the words Not here flicker across my mind. Before I know it, the western horizon has gone completely dark. The wind steadily picks up, making the sparse lights of the town that sprawls below us twinkle. I can see the school, tiny with distance; a few of its lights are still on. One car drives under the blinking yellow traffic signal on the national highway. The gigantic white wind turbine at the town gymnasium is spinning rapidly. There are so many clouds, and they’re traveling fast; through the gaps, I can see the Milky Way and the Summer Triangle. Vega, Altair, Deneb. The wind coils and whistles by my ear, and the rustle of grass and trees and vinyl greenhouses mingles with a great chorus of insects. The brisk wind gradually calms me down, smelling strongly of green and growing things. Tohno and I sit side by side, gazing at the view. My pulse has mostly settled down, and I’m genuinely happy to be able to feel the height of his shoulders right next to me. “Say, Tohno? Are you taking entrance exams?” “Yeah, I’m going to try for a university in Tokyo.” “Tokyo…I see. That’s what I thought.” “Why?” “Well, you look like you want to go far away.” As I say the words, I’m surprised by how not upset I am. I’d believed that if Tohno told me to my face that he was going to Tokyo, I would blank out. After a little silence, he responds in a gentle voice. “…I see. What about you, Sumida?” “Huh? Me? I don’t even know what tomorrow’s going to be like.” Tohno’s going to roll his eyes, I bet, but I tell him the truth anyway. “I think it’s like that for everybody, probably.” “Huh?! No way! Even you?” “Of course.” “But you know exactly what you want!” “You’ve got to be kidding.” He’s laughing quietly. “I have no idea what I want. I’m just doing whatever I can, however I can. That’s all I can really afford to do.” My heart is pounding. I’m delighted that the boy next to me is considering all these things, and that he’s telling me—only me. My heart is racing. “…Oh. Yeah, I get that.” I steal a glance at his face, but his eyes are locked on the distant lights. He reminds me of a very young, helpless child. I do love him. We’re long past that, but the thought still hits hard. That’s right. This is the most unambiguous, most important thing there is: I like him. That’s why everything he says gives me so much strength. I get an overwhelming urge to thank somebody, somewhere, that he’s part of this world. His parents, maybe, or the gods. Then I take my future course survey out of my sports bag and start to fold it. The wind has calmed, and the rustling of the grass and the insect songs have grown much quieter. “Is that an airplane?” “Yeah!” I launch my finished paper airplane toward the town. It flies astonishingly far and straight, until a sudden gust of wind kicks it upward, and it soars high into the sky, vanishing into the darkness. From the gaps between the layered clouds, the white Milky Way shines through clearly. “What on earth were you doing out there this late? Hurry and get in the bath so you don’t catch a cold!” My sister is very insistent about this, and I splash into the tub for a soak. In the hot water, I rub at my upper arms absently. They’re rock-hard with muscle, and a little—a lot thicker than average. I dream of having upper arms as soft and fluffy as marshmallows. Right now, though, even with my own complex staring me in the face like this, it doesn’t bother me a bit. My emotions are as warm and comfy as my body. That conversation on the hill, Tohno’s calm voice, and the words he said to me when we parted still linger in my ears. The memories send a pleasant shiver through my body. Even I can tell I’m smirking. Even as I think, Geez, I’m going off the deep end, I say, “Tohno” softly but out loud, without meaning to. That name echoes sweetly in the bathroom, dissolving into the steam. This was a really full, fulfilling day, I think, looking back over it happily. On our way home, we came across an enormous trailer that was being driven along slowly. The truck’s tires alone were as tall as I was, and it was hauling a white container that was longer than a swimming pool. The container had the words NASDA/SPACE DEVELOPMENT AGENCY written on it in big, bold letters. There were two of them, with several passenger cars driving behind and in front of them, and people walking along holding red guidance batons. It was a rocket transport. I’d heard of them, but this was the first time I’d ever seen one. If I remembered right, rockets were brought to a port somewhere by ship, and then they transported them like this, carefully and slowly, over the course of a whole night, to the launch site on the island’s southernmost tip. “I hear they travel at five kilometers per hour,” I said. I’d heard the speed of these transports somewhere before. “Oh…,” Tohno said. He sounded almost dazed. We watched the transport for a while in fascination. This had to be a pretty rare sight, and I’d never even dreamed I’d get to see anything like it with Tohno. A little while after that, it started to rain. It was the kind of downpour that’s common in this season, as abrupt as if someone knocked over a bucket above us. We jumped onto our bikes again, hurrying home. Illuminated by my headlight, Tohno’s drenched back felt just a little closer than it had before. My house was on his way home, and just as we always did when we ended up going home together, we said good-bye in front of my gate. “Sumida,” he said, raising the visor on his helmet, when we parted ways. The rain was falling harder and harder, and the faint, yellow light from my house dimly shone on his wet body. His shirt clung to him, and I could see the contours of his torso through it. My heart was racing. He could probably see my body like that, too, which made it all even worse. “I’m sorry about today. You got soaked because of me.” “No, no, no! It wasn’t your fault, Tohno. I just went over there on my own.” “I’m glad we got to talk, though. All right, see you tomorrow. Be careful not to catch a cold. Goodnight.” “Mm-hmm. Goodnight, Tohno.” Goodnight, Tohno, I murmur quietly in the bathtub. After I get out of the bath, dinner is stew and deep-fried parrotfish and amberjack sashimi, and it’s so good I end up asking my mom for a third bowl of rice. “You really are a big eater, aren’t you,” she says, handing my refilled bowl back. “No other high school girl would eat three whole bowls of rice,” my sister says, mildly disapproving. “Well, I’m hungry… Oh, hey, Sis?” I say, putting a piece of parrotfish in my mouth. There’s sauce on the fried meat. Chew, chew. Yum. “Mr. Itou said something to you today, didn’t he?” “Oh, yes, he did,” Mom adds. “Sorry, Sis.” “It’s nothing to apologize for. You can take your time deciding.” “What happened, Kanae? Did you get in trouble?” Mom asks, topping up my sister’s teacup. “It’s nothing important. That teacher tends to make a big deal out of things,” my sister says, as if it really is nothing. I’m so glad she’s my sister. That night, I have a dream about the time I found Cub. Not the Honda motorbike—Cub is the name of our pet Shiba Inu. I found him on the beach when I was in sixth grade. I was jealous of my sister’s bike back then, so I named him Cub. In the dream, though, I’m not a kid. I’m the seventeen-year-old me. I scoop the puppy Cub up in my arms, and we walk along a beach that’s just a little too bright. When I look up, instead of the sun, I see a sky full of dazzling stars. Fixed in place, twinkling red and green and yellow, and a brilliant Milky Way runs through the whole sky like an enormous pillar. I didn’t know something like this could exist, I think. Suddenly, I realize that someone else is walking here, too, far in the distance. Someone I know well. At some point, I’ve turned into a child. In the future, I just know that person will be someone very special to me, I think. And then I’m the same age as my older sister. Once, that person was someone very special to me, I think. When I wake up, I’ve forgotten what I dreamed about. 3 “Sis, when did you get your driver’s license?” “I was a sophomore in college, so maybe nineteen? It was when I was in Fukuoka.” She may be my sister, but she’s sexy when she drives, I think. Her slim fingers on the steering wheel, the long black hair that gleams in the morning sunlight, the way she glances at the rearview mirror, the motion of her hand as she shifts gears. The wind from the open window faintly carries the scent of her hair to me. We use the same shampoo, but I get the feeling her hair smells better than mine. For no particular reason, I tug at my uniform skirt. “Hey, Sis?” I say, watching her profile in the driver’s seat. Her eyelashes are really long. “Several years back, you brought that guy home, remember? What was his name? Kibayashi?” “Oh, Kobayashi.” “What happened to him? You were going out, right?” “Where is this coming from?” She seems a little startled. “We broke up a long time ago.” “Were you planning to get married? To Kobayashi, I mean.” “There was a time when I thought so. We called it off, though.” She’s smiling, as if the memory is a fond one. “Hmm…” Why did you call it off? I swallow that question and ask something else. “Were you sad?” “Well, sure; we’d been going out for years. We’d even lived together.” She makes a left turn onto the narrow road that leads to the coast, and the morning sun shines straight in. It’s a pure-blue sky, without a single cloud. Narrowing her eyes, my sister pulls the sun visor down. Even that gesture seems a little sexy to me. “Looking back, though, I don’t think either of us wanted to get married that badly. We were dating each other, but our feelings had nowhere to go. Like, we didn’t have a common destination in mind.” “Uh-huh.” I don’t really understand, but I nod anyway. “The places you want to go alone aren’t always the places you want to go together. Back then, though, I think we were pretty desperate to make those things match up.” “Uh-huh…” Where I want to go. I repeat the words silently. When I glance at the roadside, it’s covered with wild Easter lilies and marigolds. The brilliant white and yellow match my suit. They’re so pretty. Flowers work really hard, too, I think. “That came out of nowhere. What’s the matter?” my sister says, looking at me. “Um… Nothing’s wrong or anything; it’s just…” Then I ask a question I’ve always wanted to ask. “Sis, did you have a boyfriend in high school?” Apparently, the question is hilarious. “Nope, I sure didn’t. I was just like you,” she answers. “Kanae, you’re exactly like I was in high school.” Two weeks have passed since the rainy day when I rode home with Tohno. During those weeks, a typhoon swept over the island. The wind that bends the sugarcane carries a faint chill now, the sky looks just a little higher, the outlines of the clouds have grown softer, and several of my Cub-riding classmates have begun wearing thin jackets. I didn’t manage to go home with Tohno once in those two weeks, and I still haven’t been able to ride a wave. And yet surfing has been more fun than ever lately. “Um, Sis?” I’m applying nonslip wax to my surfboard, and my sister is in the driver’s seat, reading a book. The car is parked in the usual parking lot by the beach, and I’ve changed into my wetsuit. It’s six thirty AM; there’s an hour left before we need to leave for school, and I’ll be able to spend it all in the ocean. “Hmm?” “About that future course thing.” “Mm-hmm.” The minivan’s doors are open, and I’m sitting on its trunk; my sister and I are talking with our backs to each other. Far out to sea, I can see a gray vessel like a big battleship, lying at anchor. It’s a NASDA ship. “I still don’t know what I should do. That’s okay, though. For now, I’ve made up my mind.” I finish waxing the board, set the soap-like knob of wax down next to me, and keep talking, without waiting for my sister to respond. “I’ll start with what I can do and take it one step at a time. I’ll be back!” With that, I pick up my board and set off running toward the ocean, feeling exhilarated. I’m remembering what Tohno said that day: “I’m just doing whatever I can, however I can.” My thoughts are clear now. That’s really all I can do, and that’s just fine. The sky and the sea are the exact same blue, and I feel as though I’m floating in empty space. As I paddle and duck dive, over and over, making my way farther out to sea, the boundaries between my heart and body—and my body and the ocean—blur. While I paddle farther out, I gauge the shape and distance of oncoming waves almost automatically, and when I decide I can’t handle them, I duck underwater, board and all, and let them roll over me. When I see a promising wave, I turn around and wait for it. Before long, I feel the wave buoy my board up. The thought of what’s about to happen sends a pleasant shiver through me. My board begins to slide across the face of the wave, and I raise my upper body, plant my feet on the board, and lift my center of gravity. I try to stand up. My eye level quickly rises, and for just a moment, the world lets me catch a glimpse of its secret twinkling light. In the next moment, the wave swallows me. No surprises there. I already know this enormous world isn’t rejecting me, though. From a distance—from my sister’s perspective—I’m already part of this shining ocean. So I paddle back out to sea again, over and over. Before long, I’m not thinking at all. And that morning, I rode a wave. It was so abrupt it didn’t feel real—and so perfect there was no room for complaint. Seventeen years may not be very many, but every one of them has existed for this one moment, I thought. I know this melody. It’s a Mozart serenade. My class performed it for a recital during my first year of middle school, and I played the melodica. You play that instrument by putting a hose-like thing in your mouth and blowing into it, and I liked the way it felt as if I was using my own strength to make sound. Back then, Tohno wasn’t part of my life yet. I wasn’t surfing, either. Looking back, that world seems so simple. In Japanese, serenade is written with the characters for little night music. A little night music. What’s a “little night”? I think. But when Tohno and I go home together, the night does feel little, somehow. It’s almost as if they put this music on for the two of us today. I’m getting psyched up now. Tohno. Today, we really do have to go home together. Maybe I’ll just wait for him after school instead of going to the beach. There are only six periods today, and since we have exams coming up, they’ll probably keep clubs short, too. “…nae.” Hmm? “Earth to Kanae.” Saki’s talking to me. It’s 12:55. We’re in the middle of lunch; classical music is playing softly from the classroom speaker. Saki, Yukko, and I have our lunches spread out together, as we always do. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?” “There’s nothing wrong with spacing out, but you froze up with food in your mouth,” Saki says. “And you were sort of smiling,” says Yukko. Hastily, I start chewing the hard-boiled egg I’d put in my mouth. Chew, chew. Yum. Gulp. “Sorry, sorry. What were you talking about?” “Yet another guy confessing his love to Sasaki.” “Ohh. Yeah, she is pretty,” I say, putting a piece of bacon-wrapped asparagus in my mouth. Mom makes really good lunches. “Actually, Kanae, you’ve looked happy all day today,” Saki says. “Yeah. It’s a little scary. If Tohno sees you like that, you’ll turn him right off,” Yukko says. Their banter doesn’t bother me a bit today. “Really?” I say evasively. “What a weirdo.” “Uh-huh… Did something happen with Tohno?” I respond with perfect calm and a pointed chuckle. “To be more accurate, something’s going to happen, later.” “What?! No way!” They both react with shock. Is it really that surprising? Hey, my love isn’t going to stay unrequited forever. Today, the day I rode a wave, I’m finally going to tell him I like him. Yeah. If I don’t tell him on the day I did it, I’m sure I’ll never manage to tell him at all. It’s 4:40 PM. I’m gazing into a mirror in the girls’ bathroom partway down the covered walkway. Sixth period ended at half past three, and I’ve been in the library ever since; I didn’t go to the beach. Of course, studying was impossible. I just braced my elbows on the table, put my chin in my hands, and gazed out the window. It’s silent in the bathroom. Huh. When did my hair grow out? I think, looking at my reflection. It’s long enough at the back that it brushes my shoulders a little. It was a whole lot longer in middle school, but when I started high school, and surfing, I chopped it all off. I’m sure going to a high school where my sister taught was part of it. I’d be embarrassed to be compared to my gorgeous, long-haired sister. I think I may keep growing it out now, though. In the mirror, my face is tanned, and my cheeks are flushed. I wonder how I look to Tohno. The size of my eyes, the shape of my eyebrows, the height of my nose, the luster of my lips—my height, the texture of my hair, the size of my chest. Even with that familiar, faint despair, I examine each of my features closely. I don’t care if it’s the straightness of my teeth or the shape of my fingernails, just…, I wish. Please, just let him like something about me. Five thirty PM. I’m standing in my usual spot behind the school building, on the far side of the motorbike parking lot. The sunlight is pretty low in the west, and the long shadow cast by the school splits the ground neatly in two, dividing it between light and dark. I’m standing at the boundary, just barely in shadow. When I look up, the sky is still bright blue, but it looks just a bit more faded than it did at noon. Up until a little while ago, the voices of bear cicadas filled the trees, but they’ve fallen silent, and now lots of different insect songs are welling up from the long grass at my feet. My pulse is thumping away, practically as loud as the insects. I can feel the blood galloping through my veins. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down a little, but I’m far too nervous, and sometimes I forget to breathe out. I come to with a jolt, exhaling deeply, and the irregularity of my breathing makes my pulse throb extra hard. I’d better be able to tell him today. I have to tell him today. Over and over, almost unconsciously, I peek into the parking lot from my spot by the wall. That’s why, when Tohno calls my name, I don’t feel happy so much as bewildered and anxious. I almost let out a yelp, and I desperately choke it back down. “You’re going home now?” Tohno, who’s noticed me peeking around the corner, walks over from the parking lot, his footsteps as calm as ever. “Uh-huh,” I say, suddenly feeling as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. “I see. Let’s go home together, then,” he says in his usual kind voice. Six PM. We’re standing side by side in front of the drink case at the convenience store, illuminated by the setting sun that’s shining straight in through the west-facing windows. We usually get here after dark, so something about it feels wrong, as if we’re in a different store entirely. The heat of the setting sun warms my left cheek. Guess it wasn’t a little night music. It’s still bright outside. I already know what I’m buying today: the same Daily Coffee as Tohno. As I confidently pick up the carton, Tohno seems startled. “Huh? You’ve already made up your mind?” I say “Uh-huh” without looking at him. I have to tell him I like him—before we get to my house. My heart has been flip-flopping this whole time. I pray that the pop music that’s playing in the store will hide the sound. Outside, the setting sun has divided the world into clear sections of light and shadow. Just outside the automatic doors, we’re in the light. Around the corner of the store, the small parking lot where we’ve left our bikes is in shadow. I watch Tohno’s back as he heads into the world of shadows, paper carton in one hand. Under his white shirt, his back is broader than mine. Just looking at it sends a keen ache through my heart. I want him so much. He’s still walking, and the forty or so centimeters of distance between us grows by another five centimeters. Out of nowhere, I feel desperately lonely. Wait, I think, and on impulse, I reach out and catch the tail of his shirt. Drat. But right now, I’ll tell him I like him. He stops. After a long pause, he slowly turns to face me. Not here, I feel as if I’ve heard him say, and I shudder. “—What’s the matter?” Somewhere deep inside me, I feel another shudder. His voice is quiet, kind, and cold. I gaze steadily at his face. He isn’t smiling. There’s an incredibly powerful determination in his quiet eyes. In the end, I couldn’t say anything. It had been a firm rejection: Don’t say a word. Kitchi-kitchi-kitchi… The cries of the cicadas echo all over the island. From a distant forest, I can hear the faint, shrill calls of birds preparing for nightfall. The sun is still up, just barely, and it dyes us a complicated purple color as we make our way home. Tohno and I are walking down a narrow path between fields of sugarcane and sweet potatoes. We’ve been silent for a little while now, just two sets of regular, hard footfalls. There’s about a step and a half of space between us, and I’m struggling to keep it from widening any farther or getting any smaller. He’s taking long strides. Thinking he might be angry, I steal a glance at him, but he just seems to be looking at the sky, and his expression is normal. I watch the asphalt and the shadows of my own legs on it. Absently, I remember the motorbike I left at the convenience store. I haven’t abandoned it, and yet I feel something like regret for treating it badly. After I swallowed the words I love you, the Cub’s engine refused to start. Like it knew how I felt. I pressed the starter, then tried to get it going with a kick, but it stayed silent. As I straddled the bike in the convenience store parking lot, increasingly flustered, Tohno was as kind to me as ever. I started doubting whether I’d even seen that earlier cold expression, and I got a little confused. “I think the spark plug may be dead,” Tohno said, after giving it a thorough examination. “Is this a hand-me-down?” “Yes, it was my sister’s.” “Did it choke a little when you were accelerating?” “It might have…” Come to think of it, there had been times when the engine hadn’t wanted to start recently. “Ask them if you can leave it here for now, then have someone from your family come and pick it up later. We’ll walk today.” “Huh?! No, I’ll walk on my own! You go ahead and go home, Tohno.” I felt anxious; I didn’t want to cause him trouble. “We’re already pretty close,” he said, kind as ever. “Besides, I’d like to walk a little.” I felt like I was going to cry, although I didn’t understand why. I looked at the two Daily Coffee cartons, sitting side by side on the bench. For a moment, I thought the rejection I’d felt from him might have been a misunderstanding on my part… But it wasn’t. Why had we been walking in silence all this time? Tohno was always the one to suggest we go home together. Why don’t you say anything? Why are you always kind? Why did you walk into my life? Why do I love you so much? Why? Why? The asphalt glitters under the evening sun, and as I drive myself forward over it, the ground gradually blurs. Please, Tohno. Please. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t. Tears spill over. I wipe them away with both hands, again and again, but they keep coming. I have to stop crying before he notices. Frantically, I choke back the sobs. I’m sure he will notice, though. Then he’ll say something kind to me. There, see? “…Sumida! What’s wrong?!” I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s not your fault. I try to say something. Anything. “I’m sorry… It’s nothing. I’m really sorry…” I stop in my tracks, my head still lowered. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop. “Sumida,” I hear Tohno murmur sadly. I’ve never heard so much emotion in his voice before, and the fact that it’s sadness is really upsetting. The calls of the cicadas fill the air, sounding far louder than they did a moment ago. My heart is screaming. Tohno. Tohno. I’m begging you, please. Enough. Don’t be kind to me. Just then, the cicada chorus falls silent, like a tide rolling back. The hush feels like it’s enveloped the whole island. In the next moment, a roar shakes the atmosphere. I look up, startled, and through blurry eyes, I see a ball of fire rising from a distant hill. It’s a rocket launch. The light from the nozzle whites out my vision, dazzlingly bright, as it begins to ascend. As the air over the whole island trembles, the rocket climbs straight up, its flames illuminating the evening clouds more brightly than the sun. A tower of white smoke follows the rising light. It covers the setting sun, dividing the sky into great swaths of light and shadow. Both of them, the light and the tower, seem to grow forever. Every particle of the air is vibrating together, all the way into the far upper atmosphere. Thin, trailing echoes linger, like the screams of the sky as it’s torn apart. I think it’s probably less than a minute before the rocket disappears into the clouds. However, Tohno and I just stand there, gazing up after it without saying a word, until the enormous column of smoke has completely dissolved into the wind. Eventually, slowly, the sounds of birds and insects and wind return, and the next thing I know, the sun has slipped below the horizon. The blue of the sky is growing deeper, and it’s deepest at the zenith. Little by little, the stars begin to twinkle, and I feel the temperature drop slightly. That’s when I realize something very clearly. We’re looking at the same sky, but we’re seeing different things. Tohno doesn’t see me. Tohno is kind. He’s very kind, and he always walks beside me, but he’s never looking at me. His attention is on something beyond me, something far away. I’m sure I’ll never be able to give him what he wants. I know this with such certainty it feels like I’m psychic. I know in my soul that we could never be together. On the way home, a round moon hangs in the night sky, and its pale light illuminates the windswept clouds as brightly as the noonday sun. Our two shadows, Tohno’s and mine, are deep black on the asphalt. When I look up, the power lines cut right across the middle of that full moon. It’s almost like a picture of today. Me before I rode the wave—and then after. Me before I knew what was in Tohno’s heart—and after. Between yesterday and tomorrow, my world has changed completely. Starting tomorrow, I’ll live in a different world from the one I lived in before. But even so. Even so, I think, in my room, with the lights out, curled up on my futon. In the darkness, moonlight streams into the room, pooling on the floor. Tears begin to spill over again, softly blurring the moonlight. They well up one after another after another, and I begin to cry out loud. My face is streaming with tears and snot, and I wail as loud as I want; I’m done making myself hold back. Even so. Even so, I’ll still love Tohno tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that. I really am hopelessly in love with him. Tohno, Tohno. I love you. Thinking only of him, I cry myself to sleep.
Chapter 2
54 min read