That was where they would end their time.
Suddenly, I found myself envying the ease with which time can just come to a shuddering halt and slip away in places like that. If the story of my own life or whatever were to end then and there, the void within me and all my pain would mean little. Or maybe that pain and nothingness could be twisted into some sort of lesson. Perhaps it might even be glorified.
However, the fact was, my life continued. Incapable of anything as dramatic as suicide, my life would carry on, that pain and emptiness I carried continuing to haunt me. It would never be glorified—it would merely be empty, cold, and painful, and continue to wound me. How much easier things would be if I knew it would end. How much easier things would be if I could beautify these feelings. The same went for knowing others.
I should have ended Akiyoshi’s time within my heart two and a half years ago. Would things have been easier if I had been able to glorify her existence, if I would have kept that time sealed away inside of me?
I would never have gotten this hurt.
Ever since I met her, I had only been hurt.
I was going to have a normal graduation and begin working, passing the years with this hurt. One day, I might even get married. Throughout all those points in time, I would be carrying a hurt that I never needed.
Meanwhile, Akiyoshi’s time might just stretch on forever. She would get a job, become a real adult, and…perhaps even be happy. By then, she would surely forget about Moai, and about me. Every few years, I would think about that fact, and the wounds within me would only grow deeper.
How very long a life can be.
I clicked the mouse at regular intervals, sounding almost like the ticking of a metronome, countless windows appearing and then disappearing from my computer screen, then reappearing again. Among them were sites associated with some of my social networks.
I looked at one to see that I was still logged in to one of the accounts I had made for spying on and posting inflammatory remarks about Moai. It was time to close the book on that account as well. It would be too pitiful for the little thing to just leave it, I thought, and intended to immediately delete it. However, I hesitated to click the button.
Something popped up in front of me. Someone had sent me a message.
I opened it to find it was from a sender I did not recognize. The subject line was “Spread the Word,” and there was some sort of URL attached. My sense of caution having grown dull, I thoughtlessly clicked on the link and was taken to a page containing a single audio file. With equal lack of caution, I clicked the “Play” button.
There was some manner of rustling noise, followed by several seconds of silence.
What kind of stupid prank is this? I wondered, about to delete the message—when I heard a voice.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome. I am the official representative of Moai, Akiyoshi Hisano.”
I instinctively thrust my chair back, knocking noisily into the low table behind me.
“Thank you for—”
I frantically gripped the mouse and stopped the recording.
What was this?
What the hell was this?
It was Akiyoshi’s voice—a voice I had thought that I would never hear again, and yet there it was again already.
She was greeting someone as the representative.
Spread the word?
Should I even continue? Could I keep listening to this? After some hesitation, I decided I should at least find out exactly what this recording was and once more clicked the button.
“—taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here. As I am sure you are all aware, there was a recent article reporting that Moai has been exchanging personal information of students with certain businesses. Today, I would like to clarify the facts of the situation and speak about the future of Moai.”
It was a recording of Akiyoshi’s address at the debriefing yesterday. That’s what this was.
Immediately, I understood what was happening here. There was someone among the members who had attended yesterday’s meeting who had a very negative view of the situation. They had taken this recording and were sending it out to accounts like mine who were anti-Moai, hoping to spark more criticism.
I had my doubts—speaking as someone who wanted to destroy Moai. Would exposing a simple fact confirmation and group roadmap really be a measurable threat to Moai at this point? Moreover, any information delivered by a representative would be selective. Would there really be anything more worthy of critique than what was already available online? Was that what they were criticizing? The selective nature of the information? As I pondered this, Akiyoshi’s address continued.
“First off, I accept full responsibility for this situation and for having neglected the management of this group. I have caused a great deal of trouble for everyone, for which I sincerely apologize. I am truly, truly sorry.”
What seemed to have been a prepared speech trailed off into her genuine feelings. It was language that was both incredibly straightforward and practically invited nitpicking. However, I quickly realized there was no need for such nitpicking, nor any point in my saying such a thing; Moai’s dissolution had already been decided.
I continued to listen, but naturally, Akiyoshi had no information to give about the situation outside of the literal facts. All that she said had already been alluded to on the internet or published in that article, with no additional footnotes, along with her own apology and a report that there would be no direct punishment nor official actions taken by the university against the members of Moai.
It was at this point that it occurred to me that I typically used headphones when I was playing something off of my computer. I took out the earbuds that I always had in my pocket and plugged them in.
I instantly regretted it.
With the sound flowing directly into my ears, I now felt as though I was actually in the room for the debriefing. I felt that cold wind blow directly through my stomach. Still, I could not pull myself away.
“In light of the preceding event, we have decided to limit Moai’s events for the time being. The period of time has not yet been decided given specific details pending further discussion with the university. This does not mean that members will not be prohibited from gathering independently, but Moai itself will have limited official activities. Regarding the alumni meetings for juniors, individual introductions will be made during your senior year. We appreciate your understanding.”
It was impossible for me to guess what was going on in Akiyoshi’s mind as she read out what was likely a prepared statement in a flat, hollow tone.
“Regarding the handover of leadership…”
She suddenly trailed off.
Through the microphone, I could hear her take a deep breath.
“I…I’m really sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what to say to you all about this, how I ought to take responsibility…but, no matter what I say, I don’t think it’s going to undo all the disappointment everyone is feeling right now. I’m really, really sorry.”
Both the tone of her voice and the shape of her words were different from what they had been up to this point. I could tell that something was stirring within her.
Unlike the previous unclear picture I had, the stark image of Akiyoshi bowing her head now leapt into my mind, giving me the illusion that she was speaking directly to me.
No, this was no illusion. I might as well have been in that very hall right then.
I could not pull the earbuds from my ears.
“I’ve been thinking about…about what to do about Moai.”
I could practically feel how quickly her heart was racing through the wavering of her breath.
“This group we know as Moai…”
Finally, this was where the announcement of the dissolution would come, I assumed, just as Kawahara-san had described. It felt as though I was reaching the conclusion of some long-lost memory. So many things had happened, and all of them felt as though they had been makeshift and meaningless from the very start.