“Sounds like a fire truck. Wonder if there’s a fire nearby,” Saitou said as though to try and disperse the tension that filled the room. She took a sip of water.
“Sanae, you need to listen to me.”
“Ah, here we go then.” One corner of her mouth quirked up. It looked a bit cruel, but I nodded.
“There’s really nothing else left for us to do.”
“Kaya-kun, have you done something?”
“Nothing.”
She was acting as though I had utterly lost my mind, but that wasn’t true. This was the sort of person I had always been—she just hadn’t been aware of that fact. To be frank, it hadn’t been necessary for her to know, but now that time had passed.
“I’m guessing you think this is about to be some kind of break-up talk, but it’s not.”
Saitou had to know the truth. She took another sip of water, readying herself. I heard her swallow.
“That might end up being the conclusion we come to, but I just want you to know that there isn’t anything that’s led me to believe we should split.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying, but I have no intention of breaking up with you.”
“I’m just thinking that after this, you might want some space.”
“Have you been cheating on me?” she joked. She had a very commonsense way of thinking when it came to romance.
“I suppose that I have been lying to you, but not about an affair or anything like that.”
She waited for me to continue.
“Or rather…” Same as Saitou often did, I paused for a breath before getting to the crux of the matter. This felt like the first time I was telling her the truth.
“…I can’t love anyone,” I said decisively, then continued before she had a chance to respond or interject, “which also means that I would never betray a girlfriend or spouse for the love of another.”
She stared at me silently, taking in my words, deciphering them, and processing them.
“I mean, that’s fine, isn’t it? If it’s difficult for you to love people.”
“It’s not that it’s difficult, it’s impossible. At least now, anyway.”
“When you say you can’t love anyone…” she repeated. It seemed she finally understood what I was trying to say. “Does that include me…?”
I was glad that she did have some faculties of reasoning. After far too long, I nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t think that I could call what I feel for you love of any variety. It isn’t even friendship, or a sentimental attachment from us growing up in the same town.”
I kept my eyes firmly locked on hers, so that she could be certain I was being sincere.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re…”
Never once had I addressed her so bluntly. That was probably because it would have hurt her pride, which was proportional to her severe lack of confidence.
“…a former classmate who I happened to run into, and when we formed an acquaintanceship I thought that I might as well date you. That’s all you are to me. Just an opportunity.”
Her hands, which had been folded atop her knees, unclasped.
“But isn’t that what most dating is like?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I looked her square in the eye, shaking my head to distance myself from her assumptions. “Even now, I still don’t really like you, Sanae.” There was no point in waiting for her to question this, so I continued. “My feelings for you right now are no different than that day we met at the station, when you were just some stranger sitting next to me.”
“I…”
She fell silent, but it wasn’t a strong enough reaction that I’d call it shock. She looked as though she was trying to determine how much of what I was saying was true.
“I mean exactly what I’m saying. I’m sorry that I’ve deceived you. Honestly, I intended to keep on deceiving you. Or, well, maybe I would have told you this after the wind in your sails finally left you. Still, I’ve never once thought about ending our association. At least, not while you still have that gale.”
“…A gale.”
There was no question in her eyes. It seemed she was merely parroting an unfamiliar word.
“I have a theory that everyone has a wind that blows at some point in their life. You could think of it as something else if you like. Your peak, your greatest memories, something like that. Once we’ve tasted that in our lives, we’re empty without it, simply whiling away the rest of our days with the fond memory of that sensation. It seems to me that that gale hasn’t left you yet. I used to think that I was jealous of that, and honestly, I probably still am.”
Saitou slowly peeled her pressed lips apart to reveal her tongue, which flicked vacantly a few times as though she were pretending to speak before she declared, willfully, “This is the peak of my life? And you don’t think this gale has left me yet…?”
“I don’t. You still aren’t empty, like I am. No matter how empty you might end up after, I feel like everyone has the right to experience that gale at least once in their life.”
“Hold it. So why did you even bring this up?”
“Please just listen to what I’m about to say.”
I didn’t sound like I was getting through to her, but she lowered her eyes to the table and nodded twice.
“I have to tell you this,” I continued. Her eyes came back up to me. “I’d always thought that the gale was something you’d get from your work.”
“You’re saying you think work is the most important thing to me?”
“I did. But earlier it seemed like you were just fine with throwing that job away. Moreover, you were fine tossing it aside for me. But there’s no chance, not even the slightest, of me getting to feel that gale again.”
Her brow wrinkled, perhaps in denial, but I pushed forward, right through whatever it was that she was about to say.
“I mean, even if that’s not true right now, I can’t possibly risk that possibility. But it seemed you were headed that way, and I couldn’t bear the thought, so I had to tell you this.”