After a few minutes, the bus came. I took my usual seat in the back. I was the only passenger. We passed a bunch of stops without anyone getting on. I stared at the signboard next to the driver’s seat as we bumped along.
THIS ROUTE WILL BE DISCONTINUED AT THE END OF SEPTEMBER.
I live in a place where at some point no one else is going to live. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff next to the raging ocean. I feel like I’m at the end of the world, with nothing more left and no one to depend on.
I got off the bus, passed through the ticket gate at JR Ino Station, and boarded the train (technically a diesel locomotive) waiting by the platform. The floor of the nearly empty train car shimmered under the morning light. At each stop, more kids wearing uniforms from different junior high and high schools got on. The closer we got to downtown, the smaller the patch of light on the floor shrank and the more the people packed into the two-car train. Then the conductor announced the name of my station.
I joined the stream of kids wearing the same uniform on the road to school, and we climbed the gentle hill together. I’m one of them. That thought reassures me.
The summer sun was bright and blinding.
Last fall, the brass band was giving a performance in front of the school tree in the courtyard. Lots of students were gathered around listening.
Brass band shows are always popular. They don’t just play music; the members march along to the songs. They put on a fun, energetic show. All the instruments play perfectly in time with the marching, and they never mess up or go offbeat.
Me and Hiro—full name Hiroka Betsuyaku—were listening from the second-floor gym’s veranda.
When the band started the second song, a tall, slender girl stepped out in front with her alto sax. Then she played a perfect solo, her long wavy hair swaying as she stepped briskly back and forth.
“…She’s so pretty,” I blurted out.
Ruka—full name Ruka Watanabe—had the kind of vivid beauty that captivates you whether you like it or not. I heard some other girls on the veranda talking about her.
“She’s, like, the most popular girl in school.”
“Her legs are so long and thin.”
“She looks like a model, even in her uniform.”
“Seriously!”
They nodded at each other.
“They’re just jealous because their legs aren’t long or thin,” Hiro said to me softly, so they couldn’t hear, turning a page in her book. The girls kept talking.
“Ruka is such a natural leader.”
“People gravitate to her like she’s the sun in their universe.”
Hiro frowned behind her silver-rimmed glasses.
“That must be so annoying,” she said. “In that sense, you have it easy, Suzu. You’re like the dark side of the moon; everyone stays away from you.”
I choked on the air and looked at her, aghast.
“H-Hiro.”
“What?”
“You think you could take the harshness down a notch?”
“Harsh? Me?”
Just then, a loud voice interrupted the performance.
“Join the canoe club!”
Everyone looked toward the voice.
“It’s Kamishin!”
“Kamishin’s here!”
Kamishin—full name, Shinjiro Chikami—was recruiting people at random, a paddle in his hand and a sign reading CANOE on his back.
“How about you? Wanna join the club?”
“Cut it out, Kamishin!”
“No way!”
The two older boys ran away laughing. Kamishin chased them for a minute, then spun around to confront a group of girls.
“Well, ladies? Up for some canoeing?”
“Eeeek!”
The girls screamed in genuine horror and ran away.
“Or you? Wanna give it a try?”
“Run, he’s coming!”
He was serious enough, but everyone else’s reaction made him seem crazy. He looked like a wild beast flailing in a crowd of beautiful girls.
“Lemme tell you about the canoe club—”
“Ahhhh!”
As I watched them run from him, I felt an urge to defend his earnestness.
“It’s pretty amazing that he started that club by himself,” I said to Hiro.
“He’s the only member, though,” she replied.
“I wonder why…”
“Why? Obviously—”
Hiro paused, looking toward Ruka, who was playing on distractedly. Her back was turned on Kamishin and her posture was stiff, like she didn’t want to look at him. Hiro noticed it, sure enough. She slammed her book shut and scowled at Ruka.
“—because everyone thinks he’s a joke, to put it mildly.”
We left the gym and wandered through the school building. The chorus club, the biology club, the band, the dance club…they were all recruiting members. As we crossed the glassed-in breezeway, I heard girls shouting and clapping.
A one-on-one basketball game was going on outside—an exhibition performance by the boys’ basketball team. Someone tossed the ball onto the court for the next game, and a boy in a hoodie caught it deftly.
“Oh…”
It was Shinobu.
The game started. Shinobu—full name, Shinobu Hisatake—dribbled it slowly, checking out his opponent, an older boy. The opponent had his knees bent and his arms out to guard against a jump shot. Shinobu tried to dribble around him but then retreated, repelled by his defense.
With a sudden, efficient motion, he made a jump shot.
Man, he was fast.
His opponent spread his arms over his head but missed the ball by a hair. Shinobu’s earlier attempt had been a feint. The ball arced cleanly through the air and through the hoop.
The row of girls watching from the third-floor hallway erupted in giddy applause. Shinobu didn’t even crack a smile. That cool attitude was what drove the girls wild.
Before the clapping stopped, the next game had begun. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Shinobu waited for the right moment, then dribbled low past his opponent, like he was showing off his strength. Driving past in a flash, he landed a layup. The ball made a pleasing sound as it slipped through the net.
Applause echoed off the walls again.
“…I can’t believe how tall Shinobu got,” I mumbled to Hiro, like I was talking to myself.
“Didn’t you say you were friends when you were little?”
“Ahem. Actually, he proposed to me once.”
“Seriously? Like how?”
“‘Suzu, I’ll protect you.’”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“…Okay, that was ages ago.” Hiro sighed. It sounded like she’d had enough of me.
Shinobu made another basket. The game ended with more applause. He exited the court next to his opponent, stone-faced.
My old friend Shinobu.
He was no longer within my reach.
After school, I plodded across the Chinka Bridge.
Shinobu and I went to nursery school and elementary school together. After that he moved to the city and we didn’t see each other anymore. We reunited in high school, but things weren’t the same.
Back then, I never thought I’d turn into one of those kids who’s always looking down at their feet. But there’s a reason I’m like this.
I watched the Niyodo flow placidly by.
It happened a long time ago.
A white bird skimmed over the water’s surface.