Itobayashi Akane
“There were a lot of callous people in the world who tried to say her worries were the same as anyone else’s.”
GIRL’S MARCH, PAPERBACK EDITION, PAGE 102, LINES 10–11
AFTER SHE MET AI, Akane had started following Impatiens on social media, just in case it ever came up in conversation. Coincidentally, her boyfriend Shin had also started listening to them recently, so as someone who needed to be liked, these tidbits of Impatiens trivia surely wouldn’t go amiss.
“I’m not into idols, but Impatiens has good music.”
In response to this LINE message, Akane couldn’t help but notice an implied insult to all the other girls performing under that category. Alas, her only option was to reply: “Yeah, their songs are so cool! It’s amazing how they can convert people who wouldn’t normally care!”
Naturally, she had no real interest in behind-the-scenes details about the group. When someone retweeted the old Gotou Julia video onto her timeline, it struck her as something no one outside of hardcore fans would actually care about. She still watched it, along with the music videos and concert footage, but only as more conversation fodder.
She never imagined it would have her captivated in an instant.
This was certainly not because she realized modern-day Gotou Julia was playing a character, or because the crowd onscreen was so small. It was because she recognized the filming location.
She watched with eyes as round as saucers, hoping to catch every last detail, in search of a tiny possibility. And then she found it. In the final seconds of the video, a much girlier Gotou Julia finished her performance and sauntered over to chat happily with a staff member. His voice was inaudible, and his hairstyle was different, but Akane knew without a doubt that it was an equally-younger Ai.
“Is this his friend?”
She was technically allowed to speak her mind freely in private, but even then she regretted it, worrying someone might overhear. After the feeling made her want to die, she sent an email to Ai:
“Did you know you’re in that one Julia-chan video? ”
She didn’t get a response right away. As it turned out, this wasn’t intentional but merely because he was at work. It was nearing midnight when her phone screen lit up.
“Sorry, I was working Yeah, it was recorded at our venue.”
“You guys were friends this whole time?!”
“Don’t you have school tomorrow? Go to sleep. I’ll tell you about it next time we hang out.”
“Grrr…ok gn.”
After conveying her dissatisfaction, she quickly abandoned the idea of getting more out of him tonight. If she pushed too hard too early, she might never find out at all. But while they hadn’t made concrete plans for their next meetup, knowing Ai, he would keep his word.
In Girl’s March, the protagonist spoke to Ai’s friend about him.
Akane had assumed it was Fujino from the music venue who would fulfill this role, but Gotou Julia would make sense, too. At the point in time when the video was taken, the two of them had clearly already met. Furthermore, after she found out Ai was a fan of Impatiens, Akane had looked into their events, so she knew there was a way for her to reunite with Julia. She didn’t need to pray for the woman to coincidentally return to the bookstore—she could take the initiative herself.
Once it became clear that no reply was forthcoming, she powered off the phone screen and plugged it in to charge. The rest would have to wait for another day. Having set this boundary for herself, she pulled the pocket paperback from her bookbag and flopped onto her bed.
Lying on her back, she began to re-read Girl’s March for the umpteenth time.
With each page she turned, she enjoyed the feel of the newly printed paper against her fingertips. She had experienced this moment dozens of times, and yet every time she opened this book, her heart still raced with excitement. She had decided it wasn’t fitting of Itobayashi Akane to have a noticeably worn book in her possession, so she had replaced her copy multiple times, but even then—each page, each line, each word felt fresh enough to send a shiver of pleasure sparking through her, as if someone had run their finger down her spine.
Around the time she had reached the midpoint of the book, she set it down, rose to her feet, and turned her bedroom light off. Then, in the darkness, she flopped back down onto her back and pulled the book into a hug. Silently, she wept.
This, too, was a routine for Akane.
Her family wouldn’t bat a lash if she was just a little teary-eyed while reading a sad scene. On the contrary, it was possible a show of tender-hearted sensitivity would make them love their daughter all the more. But Akane was not merely teary-eyed. Thus, as a precaution, she turned her lights off to give the impression that she was asleep.
To be clear, she wasn’t re-reading the story in order to check her progress or plan for future storyline events. Tonight, as with every other night, she was re-reading it in order to keep herself from falling apart.
Using the pain of the tight embrace to stifle her sobs, she prayed desperately that this story would never fade away.
One might wonder why she felt the need to do so. From an outsider’s perspective, she led such a privileged life that she scarcely needed one measly novel to save her. She never went hungry. She always had a warm bed to sleep in. She was never bullied at school, and after she earned a little pocket money from her part-time job, she went home to a kind, loving family. She had a lot of fun with her friends, and while they butted heads at times, they were usually smiling again in no time. The same was true of all her romantic relationships. Anyone who saw her would think she had it all.
Furthermore, she was born with the good looks that made it all the easier for her to acquire those things. Her environment had taught her how to read people, how to choose the right words on reflex, and how to balance out a group. She knew there were people who envied her, and she understood that in many cases, she was simply lucky.
But none of those things could rescue her imprisoned heart. None of them revealed the tyranny of her desire to be liked. Only Girl’s March, with its story all but recounting her own life, seemed to present the real her—the one trapped in that white room—as the true protagonist. This was the one and only place where she could find her salvation…and so she cried tears that would never see the light of day.
Around the time those tears began to slow, she took the opportunity to roll over and grab an ice pack from the mini-fridge beside her bed. Wrapping it in a washcloth, she settled onto her back and laid it over her eyes. She kept these on hand at all times to prevent the swelling from carrying over to the next day.
In the pitch-darkness, she contemplated these periodic moments of respite. Maybe one day she wouldn’t have to do this anymore. Maybe one day she would finish the whole book without crying. But the wait was as excruciating as it was exciting.
Chilled by the ice pack, her tears rolled down her temples.