“Huh? Where’d Kaoru go?” Hikaru asked.
Hikaru arrived not long after Yoshiki started waiting for him with a bowl of shaved ice in one hand. They met on a small embankment off the main path to the shrine.
They could hear the voices of the stall vendors, but perhaps due to the direction of the wind, the aroma of the sauces and the sweet smell of cotton candy didn’t reach them. Instead, they could smell the grassy odor of mud from the stream nearby.
“She went to get some money from our mom to buy pickled cucumbers,” Yoshiki replied.
He handed a bowl of shaved ice to Hikaru, who said, “Awesome! Thanks!” and then sat down next to Yoshiki. The Blue Hawaii syrup in the shaved ice glowed slightly dark blue under the outdoor lights, while Yoshiki’s lemon-flavored shaved ice had a dull green tint to it.
“I’ve been wonderin’ ’bout this for a while now, but what kinda flavor is Blue Hawaii s’posed to be?”
“I don’t think it’s a flavor at all. Apparently, all shaved ice flavors taste the same.”
As expected, Hikaru let out a “Wha—?” and nearly dropped his spoon.
“Just changin’ the color’s enough for people to feel like it tastes different,” Yoshiki added.
“For real?!”
Visibly disappointed, Hikaru dug his straw spoon into his shaved ice and scooped up an especially deep blue chunk drenched in syrup.
A wet, crunching sound followed, and though Yoshiki was expecting Hikaru to react on the spot, saying things like, “Dang, that’s good!” or “That’s so cold!,” Hikaru remained silent with his spoon still in his mouth.
Yoshiki slowly turned to look at him.
“Then…how about me?” Hikaru asked.
The bowl of shaved ice in Yoshiki’s hand felt painfully cold, and he tried to express his surprise, but his voice was strained and nothing came out of his throat.
“If somethin’ looks the same as another,” Hikaru went on, “can it feel the same, too?”
Yoshiki recalled what happened the other day—the look of desperation on Hikaru’s face—as he’d asked, “…Do ya hate me now?” while wrapped in a towel blanket.
The real Hikaru never made faces like that.
“…No way,” said Yoshiki.
He shook his head slightly, and Hikaru looked away for some reason. Hikaru gave an ambiguous response—something between a “Really?” or a “Hmm,” but not quite either—then shoveled more shaved ice into his mouth.
“Looks like yer happy to hear that,” he said.
“Huh? Do I?”
Yoshiki noticed that Hikaru was trying to brush things off, but then, unable to hold back, Hikaru exclaimed, “Ah, dang! I’m all embarrassed now,” as he tossed his empty shaved ice bowl back at Yoshiki. The few drops left in the bowl were still tinged with the artificial Blue Hawaii blue.
“Yer already done eatin’?” Yoshiki asked with a chuckle.
Almost as soon as he did, Hikaru said, “So, Yoshiki…”
“What’s up?”
“Did you figure out I wasn’t the real Hikaru because you could sense I wasn’t the same even though I looked jus’ like ’im?”
Yoshiki felt Hikaru’s piercing gaze on his brow. He also noticed that he couldn’t hear the frogs that usually croaked throughout the village on a summer night like this one. Even the river flowed silently, just as the trees’ branches and leaves swayed without a sound, only giving the impression of their movement.
Yoshiki slowly averted his eyes from Hikaru.
“Naw.”
A response escaped his lips before he even realized it.
“I…saw Hikaru’s body.”
“Don’t you dare even think about going out there to look for him! Please! Just stay home!”
That’s what Yoshiki’s mother told him on that day.
It was a terribly stormy day.
What at first seemed like an intense but short rain shower had turned into a downpour that showed no signs of ending, even as night fell. Thunder roared throughout the mountain village of Kubitachi. The ground shook with every rumble of the sky.
And despite such terrible weather, every adult in the village was out searching.
They were all looking for Hikaru Indou—the boy who had been by Yoshiki’s side for as long as Yoshiki could remember.
“Yoshiki…where ya goin’?” Kaoru asked after seeing Yoshiki putting on his raincoat at the entrance to their house. Even though the parlor was brightly lit, Yoshiki clearly remembered it being pitch-dark at the entrance to his house.
“I’m just gonna check something outside right quick,” he told her as he shoved his feet into his rain boots.
“Liar,” Kaoru snapped back while shooting him a suspicious look. “The grown-ups are out searching for him, so the kids should stay home. That’s what Mom said.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Yoshiki picked up a flashlight before opening the front door. As he left, he heard Kaoru say, “You better,” mixed in with the intense sounds of the rain and wind.
Hikaru had said he was going to the mountains. That was what Yoshiki told his own mother, and apparently, the adults in the village had spread out to search the mountains surrounding Kubitachi—Kasayama, Futakasayama, and Matsuyama.
Because Futakasayama was where Hikaru’s grandfather farmed shiitake mushrooms, much of the search effort was focused around there. Despite the considerable amount of time that had passed since the search began, Hikaru was nowhere to be found.
The pouring rain made it impossible to see even a few feet in front of Yoshiki, who headed not to Kasayama, Futakasayama, or Matsuyama, but to another location.
He went to Nisayama, the mountain behind Hikaru’s house—a mountain that was off-limits because the ground was unstable and frequented by bears and other wild beasts. Children in particular were warned to never go there, and the people of Kubitachi Village actively avoided it.
If Hikaru had said he was going to the mountains and still hadn’t been found, Yoshiki thought that he might have gone to Nisayama. Yoshiki didn’t care if this was a hasty decision or just a misunderstanding on his part. If all he discovered was that Hikaru wasn’t there, that would be good enough for him. It was far better than waiting around and doing nothing in his warm house.
The barely paved road turned to a gravel one, then to a muddy path, and soon enough, even that path disappeared.
“Hey! Did ya find him—?”
Yoshiki heard someone’s voice from beyond the sound of the rain. Several flashlight beams flickered in the darkness. It seemed that a search party had ventured into the off-limits area of Nisayama after all.
Still, Yoshiki didn’t stop walking.
Even in his raincoat, Yoshiki was soaked up to the nape of his neck, and he could no longer tell if the liquid dripping down his cheeks was rain or sweat. He dragged his mud-caked rainboots along, pushing his way through the thicket of trees and bushes.
He tried calling Hikaru’s name countless times, but the rain and thunder quickly drowned out his cries. The sound of his own feet firmly slogging through the mud made it feel as if something inside him was being scraped away with each step.
He could no longer hear the voices of the search party that previously echoed in the distance. All that remained now was the sound of his own breathing—a mix of long sighs interspersed with miserable whimpering. His throat trembled, producing a noise that sounded like a hungry cat or dog searching for its owner.
A droplet trickled down his forehead and into his eye, distorting his vision, which wouldn’t clear even after blinking. He repeatedly cursed under his breath and wiped his eyes.
That’s when the beam of his flashlight caught a dark shape.
“…Hikaru!” he called.
But his call was drowned out by the thunder.
And lying amid the pale glow of the bamboo grass was Hikaru Indou.
There was no mistaking it—it was Hikaru. Yoshiki couldn’t possibly forget his friend. Try as he might, Yoshiki could never distance himself from Hikaru; no matter how many precious people he lost, Hikaru was the one person he could never lose.
He touched Hikaru’s cheeks with both hands. They were cold, like stones. His lips were pale, and his chest did not rise or fall.