In March, Maori learned that she’d been accepted into university. During spring break, she and I went to the park famous for its cherry blossoms to celebrate. It was the same place she, Tooru, and I had gone for a picnic during spring break of our second year of high school. This time, having almost remembered something about Tooru, she cried. She said that everything important was there inside her and that one day she would remember all of it.
I was trying to forget Tooru, and she was trying to remember him. I contemplated the contrast silently. I didn’t think either of us was right or wrong. We just each had our own way of living.
In April, Maori began her first year at a different university, and I started my junior year. Although I’d already submitted my novel to the contest, I still felt it was lacking, so I continued to make revisions and even rewrote the whole thing. Sometimes, Tooru’s sister got in touch. We would have a friendly cup of tea or dinner together when she was in the area.
How can I forget about Tooru?
I remembered asking her that question almost six months earlier. Compared to then, I felt a lot better. I was surprised by how helpful it was to pursue a goal. I was able to forget what I thought I would never forget. But Tooru was still there inside me. Sometimes, he appeared in my dreams. I would see someone from behind who looked like him in the halls of our high school and run desperately after him, but I could never catch up. I would wake up crying, telling myself that I had to put him in the past.
Summer came. The contest results were to be announced at the end of July in the magazine hosting it. I’d been buying the magazine every month, but I hadn’t checked on the progress of the contest. Tooru’s sister didn’t say anything about it, either.
Now that I was a junior, I joined career center events and started studying for employment exams. The day of the contest announcement arrived before I knew it. I doubted my name would be on the list. I hadn’t heard anything from the publishing company, so I knew I hadn’t been selected.
I bought the magazine as usual and opened it to the page with the contest results. As I expected, my name wasn’t there. I was disappointed, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t good enough yet. That was fine. I would take my time and move on. As long as I kept moving forward, I should eventually arrive somewhere.
I looked through the winning entries and names.
…For a second, I thought I’d forgotten how to read Japanese.
Aside from the fiction category, there were also categories for photography and drawing. In the honorable mention column for photography was a name I knew well but could not believe was there. Next to the name of the entry…
Last Ice
Tooru Kamiya
Tooru Kamiya.
It took me a while to read and register that name. But there was no mistaking it. It really was the name I knew so well.
Like dream bleeding into reality, I was overwhelmed by an incomprehensible feeling.
What was going on? Was it just a coincidence? It must be. That was the only possibility. Tooru wasn’t here anymore. I could search the whole world and never find him.
But one tiny corner of my brain felt there was a possibility, 1 percent or even less, that he was still alive.
If I die, I want you to erase me from Hino’s journal.
What if everything that happened after he said that was a lie or a sham created for some reason by Tooru and his sister? What if he really was alive, and after everything calmed down, he went off to take the pictures he’d always wanted to take? What if he was living another life somewhere? A life like the character in that movie?
But that was impossible. I’d attended his wake and funeral. I’d gazed at his face as he lay in his coffin. I knew how cold it was. Or I thought I did…
Nevertheless, unable to calm my nerves, I sent his sister a text.
I saw the honorable mention winner for the photo contest. That’s not Tooru, right?
After a few minutes, she replied. Whether intentionally or not, there was no clear answer in her typical warm message. Instead, she made a surprising offer.
There’s going to be an award ceremony next month for the winners of the photography category, together with the literature and arts. If you like, I can put your name on the guest list for the party.
I gazed at her message, hardly breathing.
I want you to come see for yourself. It’s in Tokyo. Is that all right?
Honestly, what was going on? Did she know something? If it was just a coincidence, she probably would have told me.
Thank you so much, I answered. I was full of questions, but I was still grateful she’d answered my message.
I wasn’t sure if I should tell Maori, but I decided that it might just upset her pointlessly. First, I would figure out what was happening, then talk to Tooru’s sister and decide what to do.
Finals ended, and my summer break began. Tooru’s sister texted me about the award ceremony.
On the day of the ceremony, I have some things to do as a judge, so I can’t be with you. Will you be all right?
Yes, I’ll be fine, I wrote back. Thank you for thinking to ask.
After I sent the message, I hastily pulled up a certain picture on my phone.
There I was in my third year of high school. I was sitting in a chair in an empty classroom, smiling at the person taking the picture. It was the photo Tooru took on the day of the school festival. I had never shown it to Maori or his sister. It was taken by the Tooru that only I knew.
Would that Tooru be there at the party?
I waited uneasily for the day to come. When it did, I took the bullet train to Tokyo to make sure I got there in time for the event that evening. I’d chosen a formal outfit ahead of time. The ceremony was held in the event hall of a hotel with a long history. When I gave my name to the person at the registration desk outside the hall, I was shown in. The award ceremony with the media was taking place in a different part of the hotel, and afterward, the large crowd of attendees would head here for the party.
A steady stream of guests began pouring into the room that had been nearly empty when I arrived. When it was about to begin, the emcee took the stage and the crowd fell silent. He announced the prize winners, and they entered the hall, marking the start of the party. The winners in literature, photography, and art walked onstage. The emcee announced their names and winning entries.
Among the names was “Tooru Kamiya.” I couldn’t believe it. The name was familiar, but the figure dressed in a suit was not. “Tooru Kamiya” delivered his comments, and when all the winners had finished giving theirs, too, they walked down from the stage. Then it was time for casual mingling, and the winners were surrounded by people wanting to talk to them.
I walked forward silently. My throat was scratchy and dry. From a slight distance, I gazed at “Tooru Kamiya” in his suit, burning the image into my mind. He noticed my eyes on him and glanced at me. He was shocked. For a few seconds, we stared at each other. I felt like we had looked at each other like this before. When was it? Where? I, too, was overcome by surprise. He smiled and walked over to me.
“Wataya.”
It wasn’t the real Tooru Kamiya. It was my fellow university classmate Tooru Naruse, who had accepted the prize in Tooru Kamiya’s name.