“It’s more beautiful when shared with someone,” she whispered into the night.
She had opened my world to a beauty I hadn’t known, guiding me through what she saw as sacred in this place.
After a while, Saki pointed to the night view and said, “That ground and building you can see in the woods on the left — do you see them?”
“Yeah. Is that a school?”
“Yes. That’s an elementary school.”
“Then, what about that one over there?” I found a similar building in front of the forest across the river.
“That’s the high school I’m attending now.”
“Wow…”
So, this was a senior high school. It was a lot bigger than the elementary school. And the grounds were so vast.
“So, the one on the right is for the middle schoolers.”
I had mistakenly thought it was one school with two different buildings.
“They’re next to each other, huh?”
“Yeah, they share the same grounds since the number of students is small.”
“I see…”
“What’s your school like, Keiichi?”
“It’s just an ordinary school. Nothing special. There’s not as much nature around as here, and the land isn’t as big. It’s just a regular school in the middle of town.”
“Is it fun?”
“Yeah, it’s fun. What about you, Saki?”
“It’s fun too.”
As Saki fondly recalled her school days, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia as I watched her beam with joy. I didn’t understand my own emotions. I shook my head and continued with my questions.
“What class are you in, Saki?”
“I’m in class two.”
“What about you?”
“I’m in class four.”
“Oh, different classes then.”
“Well, even if we were in the same class, it doesn’t mean we’d always be together, right?”
“Yeah, I know that, but still…”
What kind of high school life would we have if we were in the same class? If Saki was sitting next to me… If I said good morning, would she smile and say good morning back? I’m sure Saki would respond with a smile. After exchanging greetings, we’d walk on.
“Did you see Matsu-chan’s TV show yesterday?” Saki would ask.
“Oh, that one? It was really funny. That last joke, though…” we would spend the morning talking non-stop.
I might have felt slightly embarrassed by my thoughts, but it was nice to know we thought along the same lines. Even though we were not in the same physical place, our atmospheres seemed similar — that’s probably why we could be so comfortable around each other.
“Hey, Saki,” I said, “which mountain does the name Arashiyama refer to?”
“Do you know the Togetsukyō Bridge?” she replied.
“Yeah, that one. The bridge that you can see over there.”
“That’s right. The mountain to the south, beyond the Togetsukyō Bridge.”
“So, is all of that area Arashiyama?”
“No, the mountain on the other side of the river is called Ogurayama.”
Later, Saki showed me around the streets of Kyoto as we admired the night view. Her explanations were detailed and simple to understand, helping me become more accustomed to the town. I was delighted to learn more about this place I loved dearly.
“Oh…” I said in awe, noticing a small building lit up in the distance with flickering lights. It’s the same one we saw yesterday from Togetsukyō Bridge, but it appeared infinitely more extraordinary here.
“Is that Kyoto Tower?” I gestured toward the slender white body of the tower, its tip aglow in red. The brightness emanating from it was much different than the other buildings, almost as if it had been cut out and illuminated.
“That’s right. You’re correct. That’s Kyoto Tower.”
“Yes!” I was thrilled to have guessed it right. Even if I was not a local, I was glad to at least know about Kyoto Tower.
“Hey, did you know Kyoto Tower was designed based on the image of a Japanese candle?”
“Huh. Really?”
I just thought Kyoto Tower looked like a candle.
“That’s what my friend told me, but maybe it’s just an urban legend.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. People in Kyoto usually call it a candle, but it was actually designed to be a lighthouse that illuminates the city without a sea. I just found out recently.”
“I wonder which one is true.”
I laughed, and she smiled back at me.
But to me, it still looked like a candle. Looking up at the small flame that lit up the night sky gave me a sense of calm.
“It looks like a candle to me,” Saki said, her gaze on the tower. “It reminds me of that too.”
“Yeah.”
“I celebrate my birthday here every year,” she went on.
“At Kyoto Tower?”
“Yes. I come here, admire the flickering light, and look up at the moon. Then I tell my mom that I’ve grown another year,” Saki explained while I tried to comprehend what she meant by that.
“Tell your mom?”
“Yes. My mom… is on the moon.”
The moon was much larger than in the spring, seeming so close that one could almost reach out and touch it. Its pale blue light shined on us as Saki moved her lips faintly beneath its gaze.
“I am a child of the Hinata Dormitory,” she said, her small voice hoarse and trembling.
At that moment, I wanted more than anything to erase the fragile and melancholic tone of her words from the air and replace it with an innocent expression that suited her better, like when she described the city of Kyoto while looking up at the night sky or played with her umbrella in the spring.
So, I offered my encouragement: “It’s a nice name.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Saki murmured, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
I noticed a thin film covering her large eyes, and my heart sank when I realized they were filled with tears. Had I really said something wrong? Was there really any hope for someone like me to stand against a girl’s tears? All I could do was call her name again, desperately hoping she’d answer me as she kept her head down and tried not to let them fall. But there was no response.
Worried, I repeated, “Saki?”
However, I decided to give her time. I didn’t want to pressure her. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked straight at me with a calm smile on her face and said, “That’s not it… I’m happy.”
A warmth spread through my heart as I watched the expression of joy on her face, though I couldn’t tell what was making her so emotional.
“I’m glad,” I said with utmost sincerity, feeling utterly relieved that she wasn’t sad because of me.