Ukawa Ai
WHENEVER HE SENT HER his review of a concert, he typically got a reply back. This time, however, he got nothing. She was probably busy, or maybe she just didn’t feel like it. Either way, he wasn’t the type to demand a response, but…it still wasn’t normal for her, and it worried him.
At present, these one-sentence email exchanges were Ai’s only way of maintaining a friendship with Gotou Julia. If she decided never to reply again, he would have no other avenue through which to check in with her. Nevertheless, he chose not to send a follow-up, mostly because he had faith in her, but probably also because he couldn’t think of anything else she’d want to hear.
By contrast, he got a reply from Itobayashi Akane that was so normal, it threw him for a loop. He told her he’d watched the film adaptation of Girl’s March as part of an Impatiens concert, though he didn’t mention his run-in with her old friend.
“Jealous about the concert, but the movie’s a hard pass ”
Unlike before, she didn’t try to continue the conversation, but he figured she was still feeling skittish and didn’t press her on it.
From there, the next few days were uneventful and ordinary. He went to work and carried out his duties with a practiced hand. The pro he was apprenticed to (for the “on-the-job training” he had mentioned to Akane) lectured him on acoustics. And after his shift ended, he talked to Fujino and a few other work buddies, then headed home on the last train, just like always.
On his day off, he had made plans to meet up with a female friend he hadn’t seen in a while. They grabbed dinner, had some drinks, and fooled around. Then he headed home in the morning, said hello to his roommate as she was having breakfast, slept for a few hours, and went back to that same district.
This was his daily life—nothing special enough, in his eyes, to warrant mentioning to a friend. And since it was so ordinary that there was nothing to explain, Akane didn’t know about it, either. If he really was a fictional character like she claimed, surely his life wouldn’t be this dull. Or maybe there was a book out there with a scene of a guy standing in his kitchen late at night smoking a cigarette under a ventilation fan, but if so, he couldn’t possibly see why anyone would want to read it.
As he stood there, he thought of Girl’s March and the young friend he hadn’t seen in a while. In his mind, the two were inextricably linked.
Alone, he smiled softly to himself. In moments like these, when he was catching his breath after a hard night’s work, he felt truly blessed to have the capacity to think of others. As he flicked ash into his ashtray, he wondered if she was feeling any better yet. Then he thought about their friendship…and then he thought about Ai and The Girl.
Through the haze of his fatigued mind, images and memories overlapped until at last, he had the smallest of epiphanies, if it could even be called one:
She doesn’t even smoke like I do.
In the book, Ai only smoked during the most meaningful, pivotal scenes, whereas he considered himself a heavy smoker enslaved to an addiction. Her clothes were never described in detail, but at the very least, she probably didn’t wear long-sleeved T-shirts and boho pants like a lazy bum. If Akane saw him now, would she still try to say he was identical to Ai?
Similar to the film adaptation, his mental image of the characters’ physical traits and attire were totally different from Akane’s. Wanting to understand her perspective, he had once searched online to find out how fans of the original book felt about the film. However, most—though of course, not all—of them said the adaptation did a great job at casting and costuming. In other words, the version that didn’t line up with Akane’s was widely accepted as canon.
Watching the movie, his honest impression was that the characters felt a bit too polished compared to their book counterparts. But even then, it seemed a more accurate portrayal than Akane’s interpretation of Ai being exactly like him. Was she aware that her opinion was in the extreme minority?
“Ai, you’ve got an email from Mikocchan,” a voice called from the living room. Wordlessly, he set his half-smoked cig in the ashtray and went to investigate. When he walked in, Asahi held his phone out to him with one hand, a glass of sparkling wine in the other. “You should invite her over again.”
“She’s scared of you after that time you got drunk and bit her bicep.”
Taking his phone from her, he went back to his cigarette in the kitchen. The email from Fujino read as follows:
“I forget, are you free tomorrow? My parents are having fancy meat shipped to my house so if you wanna have some, you know what to bring ”
Before he could respond to this invitation, however, a follow-up email arrived.
“Sorry, I just saw on Twitter there’s an Impatiens concert tomorrow! Swing by after if you want & I’ll save some meat for you. Just make sure to bring booze!! ”
Ai smiled, both at her kindness and her impatience. If Fujino had a heartbroken friend, she’d probably send them dozens of worried emails without even thinking about it.
He plucked the cigarette from the ashtray and slid it between his lips. Indeed, there was an Impatiens concert set to be held in that district tomorrow. For Julia and the rest of her group, it would be the final headlining concert of the year—and coincidentally, the music venue where he worked was closed that same day. So really, it was no wonder Fujino had come to the conclusion she had.
But Ai didn’t have a ticket for tomorrow’s concert. He’d originally made plans to do a small modeling gig instead, to help a friend in the fashion industry. As of yesterday, however, that friend had unfortunately canceled, and now the concert tickets were sold out. Thankfully there would be an official livestream, which he had thought he would end up watching alone, but now it seemed he wouldn’t have to, and for that he was grateful.
“Let’s watch the stream while we feast,” he typed, skipping the full explanation. But before he could send it, an Incoming Call notif popped up.
Ai started to flick it away, but his thumb froze.
Slowly, purposefully, he blinked. Blinked again. Blinked a third time. Then he took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled, set it in the ashtray, and finally picked up.
When he raised the phone to his ear, before he could say a word, he heard her voice.
“Ai?”
“Uh huh.” He nodded on reflex, though she couldn’t see it.
“Sorry, I know this is sudden, but I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s up?”
Ai never lied. Nor did he say anything he didn’t sincerely mean. To him, there was nothing more beautiful than living true to one’s heart. And when he asked this question, he felt that heart spill from his lips.
For the briefest of moments, the ventilation fan seemed to get a little louder.
“Ai…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still have my old clothes from back then?”
They went on to have a short conversation with no small talk, made arrangements, and ended the call. Over email, he sent her his current address. Then he set his phone at the sink in front of him and smoked his cigarette to the filter. He debated whether to light a second, but it felt like he was just using her as an excuse, so he decided against it. Then he went into the living room to tell his roommate.
“I’ve got someone coming over tomorrow.”
“Who, Mikocchan? What a relief! I’m really not that scary, you know!”
A gleeful Asahi took a sip of her drink, giddy at the prospect of a pretty lady coming to visit. Alas, she was mistaken.
“No.”
“Huh? Then who?”
He didn’t normally opt for dramatic pauses. It must have been the nerves.
“Gotou Julia.”
Asahi was on her way to bed at the time; he watched silently as she inadvertently sprayed booze all over the pajamas she was wearing. “After all this time?!” she choked.
But Ai had no answer for that.