I reached out for his back. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine,” I repeated over and over. I didn’t know what could have been hurting him so badly. I couldn’t even begin to guess. What was going on? What should I do? Maybe he needed professional help, like a doctor or a counselor. Even then, was there anything that I could do for him? “You’re okay. I’m gonna help you, Kengo, I promise.”
“You have to…change things…” he sobbed, still hunched over.
The lights from the passing cars were making his back, his shoulders, and his helmet glow blue. I kept on stroking his back, over and over again.
But then I stopped. Because I realized that it wasn’t Kengo’s back. He took off his helmet and turned to look at me. Silently, I screamed. It hit me. I was dreaming. It had to be a dream.
X
“I HONESTLY DON’T MIND EITHER WAY.”
“Hmm… What to do?”
“I’m gonna finish up quick, so I won’t be long.”
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll tag along with you.” I started to walk around the bike so I could get right back on the rear seat.
A sudden hand on my shoulder stopped me. “You can’t.”
“Huh?” I looked at Kengo. Maybe I heard him wrong?
“You can’t, Rara. You have to make a different choice.”
“What’s that mean? You said you didn’t mind either way.”
“You can’t!”
My heart jolted at the ferocity in his tone. “Wh-what?”
“You can’t choose me anymore. Ever. Change things. Make a different choice. One that doesn’t involve me.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying. You okay, Kengo? Is the stress from work getting to you?”
“Fine. If you’re not gonna do anything differently, I will.”
He was wearing a full-face helmet, so I couldn’t see enough of his expression to figure it out. Nothing he said was making any sense, like he’d changed into a completely different person.
“This time, I’m going to make the right choice. And the next time, if I have to. As many times as it takes!” Kengo swung one leg over his motorcycle and started the engine before I could hop on.
“Huh?! You’re kidding, right? Kengo?!”
He rode off. Seriously.
“Is he for real?!”
I was left alone at the side of the road, completely stunned. He was for real. He left me behind. All I could do was stare after him as he and his bike got smaller and smaller.
Is he for real, though?
I was too confused to be mad. Way too anxious. Was Kengo okay? I’d never seen him act like this. Maybe his workload really was affecting his mental state.
Seeing as I didn’t need it anymore, I took off my helmet. My hair was probably messed up. I pressed down on my hairline as firmly as I could over and over. I thought about giving him a call, but decided not to. Whatever was going on with him, I felt like it’d be best to wait for him to calm down. I’d wait at his place. He’d come back eventually.
I headed for the nearby bus stop, helmet hanging from my hand. Luckily, the next bus arrived at 8:10, and I was right on time. I got on board and took a seat. The bus and Kengo each set off along their different routes.
I figured it had to be stress. He was so busy, day in, day out. It’d be weird if he wasn’t stressed. I couldn’t be mad at him, even though he took off without me. I was worried sick. Was his physical health okay? I felt really bad for him. I just hoped he’d come home when he felt calmer. It was fine. I’d wait for him.
I let the bus ferry me along for a while before getting off at the stop right outside Kengo’s apartment building. I hadn’t heard anything from him yet.
I used the spare key to get in, then pulled off my clothes. The exhaust fumes had made them kinda musty. I opened up the closet and changed into my usual loungewear, which was honestly closer to underwear: a camisole and some shorts.
I switched on the forty-inch TV to wait for Kengo to get in touch. He’d bought it in a flurry of excitement just after moving in. A few minutes passed, and he still hadn’t called, and my stomach was starting to hurt a little. It always happened when I got too hungry.
Eating was the last thing I wanted to think about right now, but it wasn’t like I could ignore my stomach. I got up and looked inside the kitchen cupboard. There was a whole load of cup noodles in there. I took one out. It was my then-current cup noodle addiction: tom yum flavor. The only way to be rid of my stomachache was to eat something. I was still more worried about whether Kengo would come home safe or not than anything else.
I boiled the water in the electric kettle, poured it into the cup, and waited three minutes. While I waited, I decided to wash the dishes that were left in the sink. Kengo was one of those people who liked to have a proper breakfast, but it looked like he’d been in too much of a hurry that morning to wash everything up. There was the bowl he’d had his egg and rice in, his chopsticks, the small plate he’d had a side dish on, and the wooden bowl for his miso soup. They were all soaking in the washing-up bowl. I washed each one carefully and put them on the dish drainer.
I looked for a fork but couldn’t find one, so I wiped down the chopsticks I’d just washed and took them and the cup noodles back to the room. I wasn’t gonna wait—I pulled the lid back right away. That was when my eyes ended up glued to the TV I’d left on.
✦ ✦ ✦
QX
SPRING OF MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. The red train, second car from the front. Outside the window was a residential area, and it was clear the cherry blossom season was well and truly over. The small hills that rose up here and there among the town above were thick with light green foliage. The fresh leaves were still soft and subtle in their hues. They looked like they’d be pretty tasty if you boiled them up—kinda like broccoli.
I rode this train every day. I tried to wait for the train at the exact same spot on the platform, at the exact same times, whether I was going to school or coming home, so that I could board from the exact same door. It had been more than a month since I started doing it. I liked this spot. I never sat down, even if there were seats free. I liked to stay standing in this exact spot.
I boarded at the station closest to the school to go home. The train then stopped at the next station. The doors opened. People got off, and people got on. There was that group of three.
There they are! Wait… Huh?! No way! His hair’s blue now?!
The doors closed, the train started up again, and I was a malfunctioning metronome. My heart was pounding nonstop. A fire, a festival, a runaway horse. My ears, nose, and forehead were burning. My whole face was a fireball. They were speaking right next to me.
“So then Mou-chan shows up…”
“Huh? No way.”
“Yeah, I call bull.”
“No, she was there!”
I couldn’t look, so I was watching secretly from the corner of my eye like I always did. I could see him from where I was standing.
That was when he looked right at me. Our eyes met. I quickly looked away.
Not quickly enough.
“Rara.”
It sounded like he called my name. No. He couldn’t have. I misheard him. He shouldn’t even know my name. So why was he walking over to me? He was getting closer. My mind went blank.
“Um, um, uh… Huh? Huh? Huh? No, wait… I don’t get—”
“Rara…”
He hugged me out of nowhere. I screamed and dropped my bag. I knew what he was. I knew.
“Alien!”
I had to get outta there.
“I miss you…”
I was trapped in the alien’s arms. He was holding me tightly and crying. He was wailing like a kid, his tears soaking my ear.
“I miss you, Rara. Rara, I miss you! I just want to be with you as much as I can! I don’t care anymore… I don’t care… This is fine… I don’t… I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”
I was dreaming. It had to be a dream, because this wasn’t what actually happened. Instead…