Chapter 6

CHAPTER FIVE Weather and People and Happiness Client A— T_o (age 31), bridegroom, Tokyo IT company employee When I first heard about it, I thought it was dumb, too. Of course I did. That said—well, women really tend to go for that stuff, you know? Fortunes and lucky items and feng shui and power spots, stuff like that? When we were picking out our new home, my girlfriend at the time wanted to get a reading for our house’s aspect; there’s a lucky tree in our bedroom, she buys lucky rake talismans, and she visits every shrine we come across. It’s not a huge deal, though, so I don’t really mind; it’s actually kinda reassuring. So I thought, Hey, as long as it made her feel better, and sent in a request. The price was affordable, and I like tossing a little money at online crowdfunding projects. I was paying for the experience, and plus, I didn’t have much to lose. Also, to be honest, I wanted to see my future wife in her white wedding dress under a blue sky, you know? Client B— A_ka (age 15), Metropolitan S. High School first-year, Astronomy Club member It’s been raining all summer this year. On TV, they’re always talking about how it’s not normal, what with global warming and climate change and temperatures getting extreme, but it’s sorta like all this is becoming the new normal. My parents say that spring and fall have disappeared, that we used to get four really distinct seasons long ago. Yeah, I think it’s a major problem. But I’ve got an even bigger problem. I’m in love with an older boy at my school! Is he gonna fall for me?! Of all the clubs I could have joined, I chose the Astronomy Club just because he was in it! And the observation camp for the Perseid meteor shower is my last chance! If it rains, they’re gonna cancel! It rained on the Star Festival earlier, too, and Orihime and Hikoboshi didn’t get to see each other, remember? It’s just too sad. I’m begging you, please make it a clear night so I can wish on a star! Client C— K_mi (age 27), part-timer and cosplayer I swear, the pub I work at is a total sweatshop. What do you call it—“exploitation camouflaged as motivation”? They try to pretend happiness at work has something to do with self-actualization. It’s ridiculous and unfair. At my other part-time job, the customers are just a pain. When you work customer support, you get calls from lonely people who just want someone to talk to, and from people who want to complain or sermonize and push someone else around. After all, it’s not like we can fight back. The thing is, though, I work multiple jobs like those because I really enjoy my cosplay. I have friends who’ve always cosplayed with me, way back since Mixi was the social media site of choice. We use our part-time jobs to get money and time, then sink it all into our hobby. We buy the materials, then sew our costumes by hand. Our goal this summer is the Comiket convention. So I want it to be sunny. You can cosplay in the rain, too, but the weather can really affect your mood, you know? For me, it doesn’t just change my mood; it changes how I physically feel. I can even get headaches and breakouts depending on the weather. For the summer Comiket, I want to be there under a blue sky, smiling and surrounded by lots of people. Client D— K_tarou (age 52), private shop manager and horse-racing fan For me, it’s just a hobby, sure, but my recovery rate is 97 percent, and my average is about 75 percent. Maybe I don’t look it, but I’m pretty good with the ponies. In moderation, of course, so the wife doesn’t chew me out. Horse racing is a complicated logic game. It’s not about luck, like the lottery. You gotta think about the horse’s pedigree and how he’s feeling that day, his compatibility with the jockey, the balance of the race, how you read the past data, what criteria you think is most important and how you bet… It’s a real mind bender, but there’s definitely a way to win. If your predictions get more precise, you get that much better at it. The abstract numbers and the concrete details are all interconnected. And, see, my favorite horse doesn’t do so good when it’s raining. Client E— N_na (age 4), Minato Ward preschool student I want to run owtside on Sports Dey. Testimonial A Three kids showed up on the day; one of them was about ten years old, still in grade school. I was so startled, I almost asked them if they were familiar with the Labor Standards Act. Apparently the girl was in college, though, and her answers were very professional. They were all very polite, including the high school boy and the grade-schooler. I don’t know, they were just really pleasant kids. —Yes, the weather cleared right up. It was so bright. We had a rooftop wedding in Omotesando, and you could see rain still coming down over by the Hills. Yes, the rain only stopped around us. The view was even more beautiful than it would have been on a truly sunny day. The drops inside that curtain of rain were sparkling in the sunlight. It only stopped for about an hour, but it was a fantastic experience. I’m not sure how to put it, but everything is brighter under blue skies, even smiles. When I saw my bride in her wedding dress, it hit me, really hit me, that I was going to be sharing the rest of my life with this beautiful woman. She said 3,400 yen was too cheap, and I’m pretty sure she paid them fifty thousand. We were so happy that we took a souvenir photo with the sunshine doll kid. Testimonial B On the night of the camp, we watched the meteor shower from the roof of the school. “If you couldn’t see the stars from Earth…,” my upperclassman began. “If humans hadn’t known about stars, I bet neither Newtonian physics nor the theory of relativity would have been discovered. Humans would have kept on assuming we were the center of the world. We would have stayed arrogant and ignorant. And—” “And…?” I saw his eyes. They were shining behind his glasses, like the main character in a manga. “And I think we might never have known how lonely we were.” Eeeeeeeeee, how dreamy! I almost screamed. He’s so sensitive!! Isn’t he wonderful? Sunshine Girl, 3,400 yen is far too little to pay for this. 10/10, would recommend! Testimonial C The sun shone so bright, the triangular roof on the Big Sight—the one that looks like a transforming robot—was almost blinding. Honestly, it was insanely hot for the first time in forever. I googled ways to keep from sweating, but nothing useful turned up. It was super-fun, though. My friend and I did a first-gen cosplay. Yes, Pretty Cure. White and Black. With all the light glinting off the cameras around us, it felt like we were onstage for something really special. Y’know how the sun is a source of energy? Well, I could really feel it. It was like I was photosynthesizing or something; I just felt stronger, more alive. Sunshine Girl’s asking price was nowhere near enough, so I also gave her a rare book that I’d lined up early in the morning to buy. I’d like to cosplay with her someday. She’s delicate but has these big, determined eyes, and her skin is so fair; I’m sure she’d look good in anything. Testimonial D It had been raining since morning, so of course, they were treating her as a long shot. But then the Sunshine Girl came, the sun came out over the racetrack right before the race—and she won! First place! I dunno how many years it’s been since I got that excited. It was my first ever thousandfold payout. They give you sixty days to cash those tickets, so I haven’t taken mine in yet; it’s displayed on our Shinto altar at home. All this made me think of something, about probability and statistics and such. Have you heard about how human emotions affect random number generators? Random number generators are machines that spit out either a one or a zero based on quantum theory. The probability’s always one in two. But when there are huge disasters or other big events that shake up a lot of people, for that one instant, they say the probability changes dramatically. They’ve witnessed the phenomenon in action lots of times, all over the world. So I had a thought. Human wishes and prayers might actually have the power to change the world for real. Maybe there’s more to our brains than just what’s in our skulls. In some way, they may be connected to the whole world. Like how smartphones are connected to the cloud, even though you can’t see it. I mean, I was over the moon when he got across the finish line first, and I have a hard time believing all that excitement stayed inside my head. And so, well—I wonder if that girl’s power picks up thoughts from others and deliver them to the world. Of course, if I’d given her only 3,400 yen for that, the gods would’ve come to collect my debt. It’s not good to give kids too much money, but I did pay her quite a bit. Huh? Ah, well, I can’t tell you exactly how much. Testimonial E I got to race owtside. It was fun. Miss Sunshine Girl sed I didnt need to giv her muney, but I payed her fifty yen. * * * At seven in the morning, I woke up. I cleared away the snacks and empty cans Mr. Suga and Natsumi had left lying around the night before when they were drinking, then gave the bathroom a quick cleaning. While I was grilling the cut of salmon I’d bought on sale, I chopped an onion, then simmered it in a broth I’d made earlier. I put some green spring onions from the kitchen garden in the pot, added tofu and miso, and then—while I waited for it to come to a boil—sliced okra and mixed it with natto. Just like yesterday, as if the earth had stopped spinning and the seasons had frozen in their tracks, a humid rain was falling. I ate breakfast alone, gazing out the window. After that, I spent most of the morning organizing receipts and invoices, then cutting out magazine articles we’d worked on and filing them. When it was past noon, I set Mr. Suga’s breakfast out on the table; he’d be waking up soon. I left a note saying There’s miso soup in the pot, called “I’ll be back” toward his room, and left the office. Nagi and I got off the train at the National Stadium station. Both the grounds of the station and the area outside were teeming with people, many of them wearing yukata. They were walking along the side of the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, slowly making their way to the outer shrine gardens, umbrellas in hand. “I’ve never actually seen this before! I’m totally looking forward to it!” “But if this rain keeps up, won’t they postpone?” “They said they’d make the announcement after noon.” “It’s already after noon.” “After I changed clothes and came all the way out here, too…” “No, it’s still too soon to give up!” Everybody was talking to somebody else. Police officers with red light-up batons were standing here and there, and the voice of DJ Cop directing traffic came to us on the wind. The words ON TERROR ALERT ran across an electronic bulletin board on a police vehicle. Before long, an enormous white dome-shaped building came into view, and I couldn’t stop myself from reacting. “Whoa, it’s the Olympic stadium!” “Exactly what a country hick would say, Hodaka,” Nagi teased. “All right, I’m meeting up with my girlfriend. Tell Sis good luck from me.” After I said good-bye to Nagi, I headed for Roppongi Hills. “On the Internet, we saw people saying the one hundred percent Sunshine Girl is really something. And word of mouth backs it up,” said a man in a sharp-looking suit. He had a staff ID and a security pass hanging around his neck. He seemed to find the whole thing amusing. “I’m not sure how I feel about depending on a sunshine girl for an event this big…” I was remembering the way the venue had looked when I’d seen it earlier, and now I was getting uneasy about how enormous this was. We were currently in a shiny elevator with a wood-paneled interior and highly polished metal ceiling and floor, like something you’d find in a palace. The floor number display smoothly ticked up: forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight. Our well-dressed client was polite, even with a kid like me. “No, no, we aren’t pinning the success or failure of the event on the Sunshine Girl. There’s absolutely no need for you to feel pressured.” The man smiled gently. “The rain is an annual issue for us. As a matter of fact, it isn’t unusual for us to postpone due to rain. That’s just how it goes sometimes. The thing is, this year is rather, erm…” He smiled with chagrin and shook his head wearily. “Even if we postpone the event, they’re forecasting rain all the way to the end of the month. At that point, you’re kinda willing to try anything, you know, from good luck charms to throwing ourselves on the mercy of the gods.” He didn’t appear to be too down as he explained. What he said reminded me that everyone really is the same. In Tokyo this year, all sorts of people wanted a break from the endless rain for their own personal reasons, meaning our “sunshine business” had grown more popular than we’d ever imagined. The 100% Sunshine Girl was becoming a bit of a legend online. All Hina could summon were short sunbursts over a limited range, but that only made her seem more mystical. People accepted the Sunshine Girl with surprising ease, as if she were a relatively special amulet or an especially effective sunshine doll. It was a little mysterious to me. A soft chime sounded in the elevator, announcing our arrival, and I felt us smoothly decelerating. Suddenly getting nervous, I looked at the back of Hina’s yukata in front of me. Her slim figure was beautifully wrapped in a bright sunflower pattern. Her hair was done up, emphasizing the white, delicate nape of her neck. As if she could feel me watching her, she looked back and smiled reassuringly. The Roppongi Hills rooftop sky deck reminded me of a ship in the blustering wind and rain. There was an enormous heliport in its center, and a lot of antennas like masts. Red lights at the tips of several of them blinked slowly, like sacred torches. Down below, the ground was covered in a thin mist, and the buildings jutting up out of it looked like ancient pillars rising from the sea. Night hadn’t fallen, and yet scattered lights were visible all across the city. Hina walked due west across that vast roof, toward where the evening sun should have been. She moved like an undefeated athlete, and we stayed near the door to the roof, watching her. Before long, she reached the western edge, clasped her hands just like always, and closed her eyes. That was how she delivered our wishes—everyone’s wishes—to the sky. * * * Drawing a deep breath to fill my lungs with fresh air, I slowly fold my hands. Close my eyes. The rain and wind strike my skin, tugging at my hair. The sensation tells me I am cut off from the world. Inside my head, I begin slowly counting: One, two, three, four. It brings my brain into focus while everything else falls away, and then I scatter the numbers all through my body. I imagine them mixing with my hot, bright-red blood, flowing from my head to the rest of me. My thoughts blur into my emotions until I can think with my toes and feel with my head. Gradually, curiously, I can feel myself becoming one with everything. My boundaries are dissolving into the world. I am the wind and the water; the rain is thought and mind. I am prayer and echo; I am the air whistling around me. A peculiar happiness and keen sorrow spread through me. Slowly, voices begin to reach me as something more basic than words, a vibration in the air. Human wishes, I would guess. They have heat. They have rhythm. They have meaning. They hold a power that can change the world. * * * The sky beyond Hina began to glow orange, outlining her hair and yukata in gold. The clouds had split, and the setting sun had broken through. Whoa… The adults in suits marveled. I stared, too. No matter how many times I saw this, it always felt as though I was witnessing something very sacred—as if I’d accidentally made eye contact with a god. I was trembling, just a little. The sunset dyed us all red. Like candles burning low, buildings all across Tokyo shone bright in the last rays of the sun until it slowly sank behind a distant ridgeline. Before I knew it, news helicopters had appeared in the sky. The wind carried the announcement from the outer gardens to us. “The Jingu Gaien fireworks display will go on as planned, beginning at seven PM—” Then magnificent fireworks began. The cloudy sky lit up more brilliantly than a clear one would have. The fireworks flickered, colorful smoke rose, and thousands of windowpanes sparkled and shone. The wind carried the cheers of the crowd to us. We’d been given special permission to stay up on top of the Roppongi Hills building to watch the fireworks. The rain-washed air was just a little cool and familiar; out of nowhere, I had a strong sense of déjà vu, as if I’d been here before with the scent of gunpowder in my nose, a long time ago. Either that, or I might smell it again, here beside Hina, in the distant future. Before I knew it, I was wishing for that with an intensity that startled even me. “I like—” “Huh?!” My head snapped over toward her. Hina’s eyes were fixed not on me, but on the fireworks. “—this job. The Sunshine Girl job. It’s like I’ve finally discovered what my role is.” Hina turned smoothly, peering into my eyes. “Or it doesn’t not, not-not, not-not-not-not feel like that.” “Huh?!” She was talking so fast, I’d started counting on my fingers before I could stop myself. “Doesn’t…not-not… Huh? Which is it?!” Hina giggled with genuine pleasure. “So serious.” She was teasing me again. “Thank you, Hodaka.” —Boom! A firework exploded above our heads, and Hina looked up again. A flower of light bigger than the rest scattered into flickering points of illumination. “It’s so pretty,” she murmured, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her profile. Weather is such a strange thing, I thought. What’s going on in the sky can affect people’s emotions so deeply. Hina can move their hearts so much.