The same day that Tooru’s sister met Maori, she invited me to dinner at the hotel where she was staying.
Immediately after Tooru’s death, she and I had discussed whether to erase him from Maori’s journals. Afterward, we worked together to carry out our decision. In part because we had made this difficult choice together, a bond similar to friendship formed between us. At least, I thought it had. But like Tooru, I didn’t want to get in the way of her career as an Akutagawa Prize–winning author, and it had been a long time since we met in person.
“Hello, Izumi. It’s good to see you.”
“The pleasure is mine. I’ve been following your work.”
She had reserved a private room so we could talk more easily. In response to my stiff greeting, Tooru’s beautiful sister smiled modestly.
“You don’t have to be so formal. Anyway, I haven’t been doing that much.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I saw the movie, and it was great. I loved the book, too. And, well, I had a question about it…”
That night, I wanted to ask her for advice about how to come to terms with my feelings for Tooru. But there was something else I was dying to know first.
“The book that the movie was based on, did you write it after Tooru died?”
She must have guessed what I was getting at, because she looked me in the eye and said, “…I thought you might be the only one who noticed. I put a little of him into that novel.”
One of the characters was a photographer in his twenties. He appeared in the movie, too. He seemed cold at first, but in reality, he cared more deeply than anyone else about his family, friends, and partner.
Tooru’s sister was the only person I had told about his interest in photography. It was when I was checking over the journals that she had typed and rewritten, replacing him with me in Maori’s entries.
“I wonder if there was anything Tooru wanted to do in life,” she had mumbled. I hesitated but decided to tell her.
“Um…there was something he said he’d never told Maori or his family.”
When I first read the novel, I wasn’t sure if the character was based on Tooru, since his age and other things about him were slightly different. But when I reread the book and then saw the character on screen, I knew. It was definitely Tooru. Having many possible paths to choose from, Tooru pursued what he wanted in life. I only realized it in the second half of the movie. In spite of myself, I started crying.
“So it was Tooru.”
“Yes.”
Maybe in her own way, his sister had channeled her pain and sadness into her art. He had respected her very much, and she had cared for him deeply.
“Actually…I’ve been struggling with something related to Tooru. Would it be all right if I talked to you about it?” I asked, broaching the topic. She smiled kindly.
“Of course. You might laugh at me for saying this, but…sometimes, I think of you as my little sister. So please, tell me anything.”
I’d had no idea she thought of me like that. Choked up with gratitude, I could hardly speak. But I made myself continue, trying to express my thoughts and feelings as honestly as possible. She listened intently, and when I was done, she tried to lighten the mood with a joke.
“Tooru sure was a lucky guy, to have two cute girls care so much about him.”
“I’m not cute!”
She smiled at me as I hurried to counter the compliment. Then she said a little sadly, “And you still feel that way toward him, don’t you?”
In the space of a second, my whole world went still. I’d been trying not to see the truth all this time, because I knew it was meaningless for those feelings to continue existing. They led nowhere. But perhaps I needed to acknowledge them. I still liked Tooru. He was the only one I liked.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“He was your first crush, yes?”
“…Yes. I…tried hard to forget him. I forced myself to date someone else. But I think I knew from the start that it wouldn’t go well. In the end, I broke up with him, only thinking of myself.”
“Ah…that sounds hard.”
“What do you think I should do? How can I forget about Tooru? How can I overcome the grief?”
I always pretended not to notice my sadness. I’ve been like that since my parents’ marriage fell apart. But when I said those words, I realized. I felt it keenly. Maybe I’d been depressed ever since Tooru died. Maybe I still was. As I stared at the table, his sister continued on hesitantly.
“If you’re suffering because you can’t forget Tooru…maybe the first step is trying to forget about yourself.”
I looked up. She smiled, lightening the dark mood I’d created. Like me, she was in her twenties, but she had experienced so much. Her advice would never have occurred to me.
“Forget myself?”
“Yes. For example, is there something you want to do?”
“Yes.”
She looked surprised, probably by how quickly I responded, and then her expression grew kind again.
“Having a goal makes life simple. If there’s something you want to do, maybe you should try pouring yourself into it to the point that you forget yourself. Time will pass. All kinds of things will slip steadily into the past. Maybe you’ll even forget some of the things you didn’t think you could forget.”
“A goal…,” I mumbled. My voice was weak, but from where I sat buried in death and sorrow, the word sounded so distant. I’d heard about goals when I was little, but I’d nearly forgotten the word existed.
“By the way, what is it that you want to do? You don’t have to tell me, but I’d love to know,” she said as I sat there with my heart quietly trembling.
“I…want to try writing a novel.”
After I said it, I felt ridiculous for even suggesting the idea as a total novice. Lots of people must have told her they wanted to write a book. She probably felt uncomfortable every time.
“What kind of novel?” she asked. Far from looking offended, she was cheerfully egging me on. Her smile brought out something locked away at the bottom of my heart.
“If you don’t mind…I’d like to write about Tooru as best I can.”
I’d tried it once but stopped before I finished. But I figured this was my only chance to bring it up, so I plunged ahead.
“Maybe it’s a contradiction to write about him if I’m trying to forget him. But I want to try, partly to sort out my own feelings. And maybe submit it for a prize, or…”
I wanted his sister to read my novel. She knew Tooru better than I did, and I also respected her as a novelist. I couldn’t even express how much her words had helped me. When I felt isolated, the ideas and words in her novels had given me immeasurable courage. But I couldn’t show someone like her a poorly written novel. That was why I was thinking of submitting it to the literary contest she was a judge for. I’d polish it up and then have her read it.
But I wasn’t sure about saying that to her directly. I didn’t even know if I could finish it. The deadline was only three months away. More than anything, I worried that she wouldn’t like a novel about her own brother.
“I can’t wait to read it.”
Instead, she smiled yet again. She even understood what I hadn’t been able to say and responded calmly and impartially.
“I look forward to the day when I receive your novel, because I think you can write. It will be completely unique to you.”