A large drop of water fell from the tip of a bamboo grass leaf and ran down Hikaru’s strangely beautiful forehead. When Yoshiki gently brushed it away with his fingertips, they were so cold that it felt as though they might split.
His body’s in surprisingly good condition. Somewhere deep in his mind, Yoshiki heard himself muttering that in a daze. I wonder why that is. Oh, right. ’Cause it’s winter.
As he calmly looked around, a voice inside him told him that he needed to tell someone about this right away.
But the next thing Yoshiki knew, he was home.
He found himself being hugged by his mother while still sopping wet. Kaoru had quietly peeked her head out to watch them from the parlor.
“The fire brigade… They’re doing their best to search for him,” Yoshiki’s mother said.
No, I found Hikaru, Yoshiki thought.
His mud-stained lips only trembled, unable to utter a single word.
“So it’ll be all right…!” his mother told him.
No, I know it won’t.
When he opened his mouth, all that escaped was a groan. His mother called Yoshiki’s name, shook his shoulders, and slapped his cheeks. Then, in a voice choked with panic, she cried, “You’re burning up…!”
For a few days after that, Yoshiki was bedridden and delirious with a fever. He lost track of how many days had passed as he drifted in and out of dreams and reality.
And when his fever finally broke, Hikaru was there.
Hikaru, who had been admitted to the hospital in Kibogayama for tests, was sitting up in his hospital bed with a healthy grin—one that seemed to tease Yoshiki, who rushed over to Hikaru, still in a state of shock.
“There were a buncha times when I thought it was a dream, but it was all real.”
There were many ways Yoshiki could have convinced himself that finding Hikaru’s body was just a dream. And there were just as many opportunities for him to mentally block it all out.
But he couldn’t do that.
“There were lots of other odd things about you, but normally…that wouldn’t be enough to think ya were someone else.”
Yoshiki still remembered how cold Hikaru’s lifeless cheeks were, and the feeling of blood caked onto his own fingertips. He remembered that far more clearly than the flavor of the shaved ice he had just eaten.
No matter how much he tried to wipe it away, he couldn’t erase the fact that Hikaru had died.
“Oh, wow…”
Hikaru covered his mouth with both hands and slumped his shoulders. Yoshiki heard him let out a sigh through the gaps between his fingers.
“That’s nuts…,” Hikaru continued. “I was prob’ly already like this when you found ’im. But I reckon it took a few days for me to repair his body, so you musta come in the middle of all that.”
If he’s saying that, then that must be what happened, Yoshiki thought.
“And you’ve been holdin’ onto this for six months?” Hikaru asked.
“It’s why I’ve been havin’ trouble sleepin’.”
A sharp pain shot through Yoshiki’s brow, and he lowered his head. He then hugged his knees and buried his face in his arms.
I wanna see Hikaru.
That desire drifted through his mind as naturally as sending a bamboo-leaf boat down a babbling brook.
Hikaru. Not anyone else—I want to see you.
“Ahhh, dang it.”
In this small village, there were memories of Hikaru everywhere.
In their homes and the narrow paths that connected them, the stone walls around the rice paddies, the dust-covered asphalt road leading to Kibogayama, the sun-bleached safety mirrors, the color-faded mailboxes, the river where they used to play—there was no place where Hikaru hadn’t been.
That’s why, no matter where he went, at any given moment, Hikaru would come pouring down into Yoshiki’s mind.
“Why’d he have to die?”
But his anger, after slipping through the gaps of his clenched teeth, inevitably turned into sobs.
“I seriously can’t wait to move out.”
Yoshiki had said that to Hikaru once when they were in middle school. He was pretty certain that it was when they were first-years.
They had gone to the upper reaches of the river that flowed from Futakasayama to catch freshwater crabs, and Yoshiki was sitting on a flat rock, watching Hikaru enter the river in his sandals.
The water Hikaru kicked up as he went into the water had gotten the hem of his T-shirt wet, but he paid no attention to it and intently peered into the stream. It was then, as Yoshiki was observing Hikaru in that state, that he let those words come tumbling out of his mouth.
“Whaaa? Why d’ya wanna go to the city so badly?” Hikaru asked.
“The country sucks.”
Hikaru’s carefree tone made the dark resentment in Yoshiki’s voice even more pronounced. Yoshiki wasn’t saying it out of some childish form of rebellion—the sound of his own voice made him realize that he seriously and completely hated that crappy rural village of his from the bottom of his heart.
“Why do people ’round here gotta pry into my family’s business so much?” said Yoshiki.
“Ohhh, so yer folks’re still fightin’?”
Hikaru laughed it off, but Yoshiki glared at the bottom of the river, watching small, pinky-sized fish swimming against the stream in frustratingly clear water.
“My parents…don’t get along, and they fight just about every day. But folks like Yasaburo’s granny’re always talkin’ about it like they want us to hear ’em…”
Yoshiki wondered if it was because his mother was from Tokyo. She had only a slight city accent, and he didn’t understand what people found so interesting about that. He wondered why people seemed to find so much joy in prying into other families’ business and criticizing others behind their backs.
“Speakin’ of,” Yoshiki continued, “there was a big fight at Yasaburo’s place not long ago. Somethin’ about his next-in-line, Yuusuke.”
“They were sayin’ he’s sick.”
“He ain’t sick,” Yoshiki cut in and then rushed to correct himself. “Yuusuke ain’t sick. He’s a homosexual.”
“Home-o-sex-you-all?”
“I dunno…”
Yoshiki felt half annoyed and half relieved by the carefree and clueless way Hikaru spoke. He didn’t want to discuss it with Hikaru anymore.
“This village is too small and cramped,” Yoshiki grumbled. “I can barely breathe with how cramped it is here.”
He was sure that Yasaburo’s son, Yuusuke, felt the same.
Hikaru kicked the river, splashing some water. The splash was light and melodic, and the surface of the river rippled and sparkled brightly, as if musical notes had been scattered across it.
“All right…then you can sleep over at my place tonight,” said Hikaru.
“Huh?”
“Even if the country sucks, you always have fun at my place. Whenever ya feel like you wanna go to the city, you should come to my place!”
It wasn’t that simple. Yoshiki’s resentment wasn’t something that could be treated so lightly. But the way that Hikaru seemed to punctuate his sentences with a cheery exclamation mark always managed to momentarily clear away the fog that swirled about in Yoshiki’s heart.
No matter how crappy the countryside was for him, he could breathe easily as long as Hikaru was there. It felt like there was more air around him—more oxygen to breathe.
He vaguely knew that would no longer be the case one day, and perhaps that was why he wanted to leave the countryside.
“Check it out, Yoshiki!”
Hikaru thrust his hands into the golden, glittering river, grabbed two freshwater crabs, and pulled them out of the water.
“Crabby crab!”
He pressed the fishy-smelling crabs into both of Yoshiki’s cheeks. Yoshiki acquiesced.
Apparently, the look on Yoshiki’s face was funny enough to make Hikaru burst into laughter until tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.
Those were the kinds of memories that came back to Yoshiki whenever he heard the sound of the flowing river.
Then Hikaru called Yoshiki’s name. They had the same voice, but no matter what, it wasn’t Hikaru. It was Hikaru.
Yoshiki could sense that Hikaru was reaching out to him amid his confusion. His warm hand went to touch Yoshiki’s shoulder but then quietly retreated.