Ukawa Ai
AI HEARD WHAT SOUNDED like a scream and, despite his prevailing skepticism, ran to investigate. As luck would have it, he arrived just in time to grasp the fabric of her coat with his outstretched hand, and so he quite literally seized the opportunity. In his relief, however, his blood vessels expanded and the blood rushed all the more quickly to his head.
But though his high blood pressure had driven him to shout at a girl far weaker than him, and even grab her by the collar, Ai had no regrets. His anger was, at its core, born of the love he felt for a friend, and no matter how upset it might have made her, it was something he couldn’t erase. As for the bookbag smack and the headbutt—they didn’t bother him in the least. Over the course of his life, he had developed a high tolerance for physical violence among friends.
When Akane fell silent—be it in defeat, or merely as a different form of rebellion—Ai took her by the hand and led her up that same old hill once again. He wanted to find a quiet place where they could talk, but every inch of this district was teeming with people, and with her face all messy with tears and spit and whatever else, Akane likely wouldn’t want to set foot in a cafe. Through this process of elimination, he thought of a new idea: his workplace.
The music venue was located at the top of the hill, and he had brought her there once before. Today it was closed, and both the front entrance and outer gates were locked up tight, but if they sat in between on the basement stairs, they could avoid detection.
Arriving at the gates, Ai took Akane’s bookbag and helped her climb over first. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest, placing her feet as directed and generally following his every instruction to the letter. Next, it was his turn. Once he made it over, he sat down near the bottom of the stairs. The concrete was cold, but at least down here they would be shielded from the biting wind.
As she stood there blankly, he gestured for her to sit nearby. Again, she did as she was prompted, sitting one stair higher than him. Then she hung her head.
Well, now what?
After some thought, his first move was to calm himself down. He retrieved his pack of smokes and lighter from his coat pocket and lit one up; the click of the spark wheel drew a surreptitious glance from Akane, so he figured he’d explain just in case.
“I know I said I’m a grown-up who doesn’t do crimes, but…sometimes I do.”
With his smoking hand, he gestured to the wall, where a sign read NO SMOKING ON THIS PROPERTY. She glanced over at it, then went back to staring at the ground. When she finally spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.
“Ai would never do that.”
Without missing a beat, he nodded in agreement. “That’s correct. But I do.”
She fell silent again. Before long, he finished his cigarette. The first always felt like chugging water under the desert sun, so he lit a second to savor the taste. As he rolled the bitterness on his tongue, he contemplated what he should say to her.
“Need a hand warmer?”
She ignored this, so he put it back into his pocket. It wasn’t that cold today, so she’d probably be fine without it. Somewhere above them, he could hear drunk people laughing.
Alone with his thoughts, Ai exhaled the smoke and reviewed the events that had taken place at the intersection.
Though the teenager’s physical attacks weren’t enough to damage him, her words certainly were. She had shone a light on the inexplicable, murky depths of his heart, so perhaps his anger was partially a defense mechanism provoked by his own sensitivity. Now he felt bad. Tangentially, he thought of something he needed to tell her.
“Itobayashi Akane.”
She didn’t look at him, but she was surely listening.
“This might be unrelated, but I need to apologize for something. A while back, I told you that you didn’t need to worry about who you are, and…that was wrong.”
She didn’t respond, but she refolded her arms.
“I can’t say whether you’re anything like The Girl from Girl’s March, but I don’t get to dictate what you worry about, and I’m sorry.”
At this, she finally looked over, so he inclined his head to her in apology. Then she averted her gaze again, so he continued.
“I admit…when it comes to this stuff, I’m like a bull in a china shop. Most times I can’t figure it out on my own. Even now, I have no clue why you’d want to die, and I might never truly understand, but…if you’re comfortable talking to me about it, I’d like that.” He exhaled his true feelings along with the smoke. “I’d prefer to avoid hurting you if at all possible, but I do want to know more about you, so… If you can’t talk about that, then maybe something else. If there’s anything that’s bothering you…”
The silence lingered for a while longer, but as he gazed up at the sky, this time it was her turn to break it.
“I need to be liked.”
He didn’t understand at first, but fortunately there was more.
“I’m chained down by the need to be liked.”
Ai ashed his cigarette into his portable ashtray. “Is that how it feels? To me it seems pretty normal to want people to like you, but I can imagine it would suck to be trapped.” After a beat, he slid the cig between his lips.
“…That’s it?”
“Huh?” He took a drag, exhaled, and combed through his mind for whatever Akane seemed to want him to say, but… “Nope, sorry, that’s all I’ve got right now. I need time to understand a feeling I’ve never felt myself. I’ll give it some thought.”
If he was a character in a novel, this was where he’d say the magic words that would bring her back from despair. Alas, he wasn’t. She stared blankly at the empty air.
“Anything else?” he asked, and this time the answer only took a few seconds.
“All the songs and stories about being true to your heart—if it was that easy, I wouldn’t have this problem.”
“Can’t say I know any stories, but there are a lot of those songs, huh? Personally, I enjoy them in moderation. Anything else?”
“I hate things that gloss over their flaws. Pop stars. Movies and advertisements that airbrush the rough edges out of their source material. Awards, like I mentioned before. And a bunch of other stuff. It’s all the same, and I hate it.”
“…The same as what?”
But evidently Akane hadn’t finished answering his previous question.
“I hate people who pretend to be your best friend but don’t actually care about you the same way you care about them.”
Ai could admit his comprehension was generally poor, but at long last, even he was starting to understand.
“I hate people who choose who they date based on optics, then end the relationship to suit their own whims. And I hate people who feel the need to kiss up to everyone, even their own family.”
Put broadly, this girl only really hated one thing.
“People like me.”