After I spoke, she chuckled and said, “Pointless, eh?”
I felt embarrassed by my words. Despite my making fun of my relatives' practices, their ideas had obviously rubbed off on me. I laughed nervously to avoid answering her and mumbled, “Ha-ha.”
She wore a plain light blue T-shirt with jeans and white sneakers. Her long hair fluttered in the wind and returned to its original position.
“So, what did you do today that was boring you?”
She’d changed my word ‘pointless’ to ‘boring.’ The accent of her Kyoto dialect sounded slightly different as well.
“Hmm?”
She repeated the sentence then brushed her locks away from her face. She was so attentive that it made me happy.
“Boring me just left the banquet,” I said.
“Oh yeah?”
“I took a stroll around Arashiyama…”
“Go on.”
“I kept heading up the hill until I reached the forest.”
“Ah, that’s why you came here?”
“Yes, I had arrived.” Our voices overlapped.
We had only just met, but we spoke as if we’d known each other for years. Maybe it was because of her gentle vibe and those cat-like eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked in a quiet tone.
“Saki Komiya,” she answered.
I wondered whether to call her Komiya-san or Saki-san? San sounded awkward; chan would be too intimate. While I pondered what to call her, she interjected, “And you?”
“Keiichi Tani,” I replied.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Same here. We’re exactly the same age,” Saki smiled.
Saki seemed older than she was, with a lovely face and a calm way of speaking. When I spoke to her, however, I felt she was a little immature.
Not quite… Maybe I was wrong; perhaps it wasn’t childishness. It dawned on me that Saki had an unpretentious personality, unlike the many people full of flattery and false faces. Her gentle air made me want to keep her close to me and talk.
“What should we call each other? Tani-kun? Keiichi-kun?” Saki asked in a hesitant voice.
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied.
“Okay, then Keiichi-kun it is. Um, for me…”
“Saki-chan? Is that okay?”
“No, just Saki.” She smiled warmly. “Everyone calls me Saki.”
“I understand.”
I thought about calling out to her in my mind; before I knew it, she was smiling at me. We discussed various topics like school and hobbies; interestingly, her favorite hobby was drawing.
“Do you take this hobby seriously?” I questioned.
The vision of a model standing in the middle of a group of individuals while Saki sketched them crossed my mind.
Saki shook her head. “No, it’s more for fun than anything.
“Mainly, I do it when I’m alone,” she stated. “I’m either reading manga or drawing pictures, since I don’t really like novels.”
Perhaps she was referring to self-study time at school? My school had that too, but that was in elementary. I always read books during that time. Drawing was something I was never any good at, so I have always been filled with admiration for those who could do it.
“So, do you draw manga?”
“Nope. I make landscape art, like what I observe in my bedroom or this spring season. That’s all I doodle.”
“Don’t you draw people?”
“No, not me.” She glanced down and added, “It would be better to say that I do not possess enough skill instead of saying that I cannot draw people because they are complex.”
After these words, she closed her lips and smiled. A part of me wanted to one day witness the artwork made by her hands. I was certain the colors displayed in those pieces would exceed anything created by imagination.
“Keiichi-kun, what do you like to do in your free time?”
As soon as I was asked about my hobby, I answered without hesitation. “Ah, my interest is soccer.”
“How long have you been playing?”
I counted on my fingers and responded, “Let’s see… it has been seven years since I started back in fifth grade.”
Suddenly, I felt a wave of nostalgia for when I’d first started out — without a uniform, shouting from the sidelines during scrimmages, and sprinting around the field with a numbered brightly colored pinny.
The next question brought me back to reality.
“What role do you play on the team?” she probed.
“I’m a defensive midfielder,” I replied. “Though I don’t expect you to know what that means.”
“Of course, I know,” she exclaimed. “I love watching soccer on TV.”
I was pleased that she considered what I liked a worthwhile subject of conversation.
“Do you have a favorite team?” I asked.
A smile spread across her face as she answered, “Yes. It’s Kyoto Purple Sanga.”
“It’s because of my love for my hometown,” she explained. She regaled me with stories of soccer, her knowledge, and passion that seemed to surpass mine — making me chuckle. Then, she checked her watch and gasped.
“Oh, no! It’s already late. I must get back, or I’ll get caught.”
She jumped up, dusting the dry leaves off her jeans. Was she out past curfew? Looking at her worried face, I asked, “Curfew?”
“Um… actually, I missed it,” she said sheepishly.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I won’t get caught if I sneak back in,” she answered mischievously. Her expression was irresistibly cute. But still, her parents would be angry if they found out she was out too late.
“I’ll walk you home,” I offered.
“No, it’s alright. Your grandma’s house is just down the mountain, right?” she replied quickly.
“That’s right,” I said hesitantly, unsure if letting her go alone was a good idea.
Suddenly, she continued, “It’s really close by, so don’t worry about it. I’ll take your good intentions as my guide. Thank you.”
With that, we parted ways. She flashed me a tender smile, and I simply replied, “Sure.”
“See you later,” she said as she gave me a wave.
“Hold on,” I hollered after her.