Chapter 21

There was a school trip in the autumn of students’ second year. We were given a lot more freedom than most other schools, and we could pick a destination: Hokkaido, Okinawa, or Hawaii. When trying to pick a location, the obvious place to start was by asking upperclassmen for their opinions, so I talked to the senior members of the Astronomy Club. Tashiro—who seemed to know everyone—talked to Hanzawa and all the other upperclassmen he knew, and Miyano naturally turned to Sasaki. Ultimately, the three of us picked Hokkaido. We even ended up talking to some of the same upperclassmen, what with the overlap in clubs, committees, and stuff. We were told that everything in Hokkaido was on another level, up to and including the hotel breakfast, the taste of the fish, and even the sweets, which used ingredients sourced right there on the island. “I wish I could go again,” said the guy I talked to. “I would go every year if I could! I think I’d like to try going in summer next time.” You could hear the passion in his voice. I took note; sounded like it offered plenty of opportunities for a trip with my girlfriend someday. It was mostly up to the students to plan the trip activities, so once a week when we were all together for sixth period, we spent the hour in different classrooms split according to destination. We brought the materials the school had given us along with guidebooks and other info, chatting and laughing and occasionally getting distracted as we planned out what we would do. The trip would span four nights and five days, but the fifth day would just be traveling home, so technically it was a four-day excursion. This was our first chance to plan our own trip, and opinions flew. We made a plan, then tore it up and made a new one. Day one would be in the city of Sapporo, where each of us could pick a hands-on learning experience that sounded interesting: the planetarium, mountain climbing, candle making, and even making ice cream. I thought I would be all about the planetarium at first, but the one people chose was somewhere I had already been. True, that was back when I was little—my parents had taken me—so I was sure it would be a different experience now. I did want to go back. But it didn’t have to be this time. This was my school trip, after all. With that in mind, I decided to follow Miyano’s lead. He wanted to make ice cream. “Even though you don’t like sweets, Miyano?” I asked. I had to say, his choice was a surprise. I assumed ice cream was no exception to his disinterest in sweet treats. He nodded, although he indicated that there was something else going on. “I thought you weren’t much of a cook, either, Miyano,” said Tashiro, who was sitting beside us and looking confused. “Making ice cream isn’t cooking,” I interjected. It was more like mixing. Miyano looked decidedly unenthused. “It is cooking!” he groaned. He really was a terrible chef. When I thought back on his failures in our cooking classes, I knew it wouldn’t be fair of me to just chirp It’s easy! or whatever. “That sponge cake was like rubber. It was hilarious!” Karasubara, one of our classmates, said with a chuckle. “It’s not that funny.” Miyano grumbled. In addition to being much too dense, his had also been the only cake to come out a strange color. “And I almost broke my teeth on those cookies!” Shirahama added. A certain someone who’d tried that treat claimed they were hard because of “preservatives.” “I said I was sorry!” Miyano shot back at his hecklers. Miyano’s mind seemed made up. Even his handwriting on the handout looked forceful somehow. I still wasn’t sure if making ice cream was real cooking, but I had to admit that Miyano was worthless in the kitchen. Stirring and mixing might be too much for him. “So why the urge to try now?” I asked. After a second, he responded, “The upperclassmen did it last year.” So he was following in a certain someone’s footsteps—just a year later. He didn’t say as much, but I thought I was right. Well, he had said something about, if not being in love with Sasaki, being a big admirer of his. I offered a noncommittal Oh, really? as I wrote the name of the dairy farm for making ice cream on my application form. “All this talk is making me want some ice cream. Maybe I’ll join you. I want some fresh-made stuff!” Tashiro said, peeking at our sheets and twirling his pencil. “Sounds like there’s a lot of places you’d like to visit, Tashiro.” “There are! There’s so many places! I guess I won’t get to all of them…” “Knowing you, I’m not surprised. You’ll have to pick and choose,” Miyano said. “Yeah… Guess so…” I couldn’t resist a little smile at their banter. In the end, some other friends convinced Tashiro to go mountain climbing, and he could be heard mumbling “Wonder if I need any equipment.” Immediately, someone piped up, “It’s all right there on the handout, champ.” It was just going to be a short hike, not more than a few hours. I thought it was a bit much, given that they were going to climb a different mountain the same night, but the Athletics Club proved pretty popular, and slots filled up quickly. Tashiro was always cheerful and easygoing, so he seemed likely to inspire anyone who got too tired hiking. “I feel like having you along would save us from getting tired,” said Miyano, who was apparently thinking the same thing I was. “Everyone has their gifts,” he said. “So I see,” Miyano said with a small smile. So the first day of our school trip started with making ice cream, and Miyano proved to be every bit as unsuited to the work as we’d expected. Tools and materials were provided to us; all we had to do was mix things together according to the recipe, but Miyano’s ice cream just wouldn’t thicken. “Sasaki said it came together right away,” Miyano groaned, confused. The rest of us were done already. I glanced in his bowl and saw that the ice water that was supposed to chill the ingredients was a cloudy white. It was obvious some of it had spilled. We were running out of time, though. Someone from the farm, unable to bear the sight any longer, helped Miyano by adding some salt, mixing a bit, and then checking to see if the mixture was starting to thicken. They stayed with him pretty much the rest of the time. After making ice cream, we took a tour of the city. I’d seen the famous clock tower in photos and it always looked small, but when I stepped inside I was almost overwhelmed by the historic feeling that pervaded the place. Placards around the building mentioned a few things I’d studied, and the lecture hall on the second floor had a palpable authority to it. This used to be a school, so no wonder it felt like stepping into some old university. The walls had the deep amber patina characteristic of old wooden buildings, making the solidity of the construction more apparent. What a place to learn. I loved the unique atmosphere of these spots that exuded history. When we went back outside, I was startled by the way the ginkgo trees along the road seemed especially colorful and even the sky looked brighter than usual. We worked our way along, keeping one eye on the map, occasionally popping into a store here and there. We got back to the hotel before dark and other groups slowly filtered in after us. The mountain-climbing group had gone straight to and from the hotel—no hoofing it around the city—so they were eager to do a little souvenir shopping; a few of them bought snacks at the hotel shop even though dinner was just a few minutes away. Suffice to say, day one’s schedule was pretty packed. There was also nighttime sightseeing from a ropeway after dinner. It was first come, first serve, with no regard to our afternoon groups. It was only autumn, but even with a coat on I felt a little chilly. I’d made the right choice to follow the upperclassmen’s advice and go with a light down jacket. I ended up in the same cable car as Miyano. I learned they were technically called gondolas, and they were surprisingly spacious inside. Ours started to feel awfully cramped, though, as it progressively filled with high school boys. Okay, maybe it wasn’t as bad as the train on my morning ride to school, but still. We had traveled all the way to Hokkaido, but with our gondola full of our schoolmates, the space felt comfortable and familiar. I picked up the murmur of conversation all around me. I overheard someone saying, “Why’d you pick Hokkaido? I mean, I know it’s a little late to ask, but most of Class A went to Hawaii.” I guess one of the guys nearby was from Class A. It was a little unusual. The guy talking to him was obviously from some other class. Our school had a lot of different programs, which was part of what gave each class its own special character. I don’t want to say that was the whole reason so much of Class A had chosen to go overseas together, but that was part of it. “Well, Hirano said he went to Hokkaido…” “There you go talking about that ‘Hirano’ again! Who is he anyway?” “Not telling.” Hirano, like, Hirano? The upperclassman? I thought. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but my ears picked up that name specifically. It made me glance to the left. Big: That was my first thought when I saw the guy nearby, the one who had mentioned Hirano. He was taller than I’d expected, maybe even taller than Sasaki. I’d always been a little suspicious of the way Miyano claimed to see Hirano as an uke, but if the other guy was this big, it suddenly made a lot of sense. (Never mind whether that actually was the other guy.) Besides being taller than average, this person looked really…manly. I’d always assumed a seme would be the forceful go-getter of the two, but I realized now that an athletic type like this would make a pretty good partner, too. Would Yuki want to know about this? I wondered. Like I always did when I had that question, I automatically grabbed my smart phone. “What’s up, Kuresawa? You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” said Miyano, who had turned away from the scenery and toward me. I had no idea what to say. He didn’t seem to have heard the conversation, and I didn’t necessarily want to tell him exactly what I was thinking. There was guessing and there was guessing. Instead I said, “I wanted to share this gorgeous scenery with my girlfriend.” “Of course. You’re always thinking about her.” “Not necessarily!” We spoke in soft voices, and I felt like I might be sucked straight into the brilliant starry night. I said, “Hey, different topic, but I’d never seen crab at a buffet before. Have you?” “Nah, me neither. And you could make your own salmon or squid rice bowls! Couldn’t believe it,” he said. “That’s cooking even you can do!” “I wouldn’t call putting fish on top of rice cooking,” Miyano said sourly, obviously remembering what had happened with the ice cream that afternoon. “Speaking of which, did you see the sashimi at the convenience store?” “No! They had sashimi? Wish I’d got some,” I said. I heard Miyano mumble something about how it was a different world here. Behind him, the night spread out around us. It was picturesque, even if we were talking about seafood. If I take this shot and send it to Sasaki, would that count as paying him back for the help he gave us? Maybe at least a little? I pulled out my phone and turned toward Miyano. He didn’t look convinced. “What, a photo? You won’t be able to see anything,” he said. Had he guessed, from the angle I was taking? “Maybe if I use the flash,” I said. “Yeah, and blind everybody. Why are you taking my picture anyway?” It didn’t look like he was keen on being in my photo, but I decided to try something. “For my girlfriend,” I said. The perfect cover. If I told him I was going to send it to Sasaki, he would never let me do it. But for Yuki, maybe. And maybe I would send it to her. Sasaki had been loath for anyone to see Miyano at the drag contest, but my classmate was in ordinary clothes right now. No problem… Right? “Absolutely not,” he said. Not even for Yuki, huh? I didn’t say anything—just hit the shutter. “I said, don’t take my picture!” Now he was upset. I looked at my shot: The backlighting from the night scenery was too strong, and Miyano was an indistinct shadow in the foreground. “It didn’t come out,” I said. “I’ll delete it.” “I told you,” he grumbled. As I hit the trash button, I remembered: At the drag contest during the culture fest, Sasaki had made it perfectly clear that he liked Miyano that way. I wondered what the two of them were going to do. Sasaki’s graduation was right around the corner. “What about Sasaki? What are you going to do about that?” I asked. “Huh?” “He’s graduating pretty soon. If you want to tell him how you feel, you don’t have long. What do you really think about…how he feels about you?” I kept my voice down so no one would hear us, but I was plenty loud enough for Miyano. He’d been looking out the window, but now he abruptly turned to his left, toward me. His face was so red, I could see it even in the dim light. It seemed to give the nighttime a crimson glow. “What do you mean…what about Sasaki?” he said. “I mean—let’s say hypothetically,” I answered, finding myself surprised and trying to backpedal. “Y-yeah. Of course. Hypothetically.” Miyano’s voice was even smaller than mine. I had to lean toward him to make sure I heard him. He sounded so faint, his words were almost lost in the buzz of the gondola. “What if you told him you like him?” I said. As someone who’d had to wait to hear those words myself, I sympathized with Sasaki. “I could, but… I mean, hypothetically I could, but what if I don’t feel it the way he does? Maybe I couldn’t give him the respect he deserves. Maybe I’d hurt him. I can’t say something like that just to be nice.” “Well, by seeing things from each other’s perspectives, won’t you be able to move forward together? The fact that you’re worried shows this isn’t a whim.” A person only talked like that if they were taking things seriously. Miyano grimaced. “That’s sort of the whole problem… It’s like, what if I say something to him, and then we realize we’re not on the same page?” “You’re such a worrywart. Maybe you’d find out you liked him even more when you put those feelings into words.” From where I was standing, it was obvious that Miyano was more than serious enough to respond to the guy. “How’s that work?” His question caused Yuki’s face to drift into my mind. How could I put this? When I thought back, Miyano seemed pretty easy to read. Hirano and Sasaki were the upperclassmen he’d consulted with before our trip, but when we all got together to share info, most of his seemed to come from Sasaki. I’d already known Sasaki liked Miyano, but what if it wasn’t unrequited love? What if Miyano liked Sasaki, too? When I asked myself that question, a lot of pieces fell into place. Looking at the things they did and said, the moments they shared were cast in a different light and I realized Miyano had feelings for Sasaki, too. I even thought, He should just tell him! I’d asked my girlfriend out on the day we graduated from middle school, but she didn’t give me an answer until the end of March. Maybe that was why I was so sensitive to graduation as a kind of dividing line. After we’d been dating for a while, Yuki told me that “everything” I did made her happy, but to be honest, on some level I found that hard to believe. “Well,” she’d said, “you do it all because you care for me, right?” That was some confidence! With a smile on her face, she’d assured me that the love I’d wanted to express was reaching her. That had thrilled me above all else: that she didn’t doubt my feelings for a second. All of it was because we’d started from that one word: love. By telling each other how we felt, we gained the trust that everything else would be all right. If we hadn’t said that, hadn’t conveyed that to each other unambiguously, I don’t think we could ever have built our relationship. That was when I felt my love for her become something unshakable, like the way your parents love you, something you’re born with. After that, I saw her trust for me in everything she did, and it made me love her all the more. “Let’s see,” I said now. “Do you get along with your parents, Miyano?” “I mean, I guess so. We talk a lot.” He sounded surprised; it probably seemed like a sudden change of subject. “Then I think you already know what I’m talking about. With your parents, sometimes things are cool and sometimes you fight, but there’s trust underneath all of it, right?” I started to feel embarrassed, actually saying it out loud. “Yeah, I guess… But…” He seemed a bit lost for words. It didn’t just work that way with your parents—it was the same with your friends. Not that I would be able to say it to his face. “That kind of trust, being comfortable with each other like that, you build it up over time. For me and my girlfriend, it began when I told her how I felt, and she responded. When you’re dating, when you’re both in love, there’s a lot of stuff you’re not used to. It can be pretty anxiety-inducing. But you’re starting from a different place than when the feelings are one-sided. The relationship doesn’t begin until both of you are in it, so though I was the one who confessed, the way she cares for me comes from an even deeper place. I’m so much happier than when that love only existed in my head.” I’d launched into this little speech just hoping to help Sasaki if I could, but I was warming to my subject in a big way. By this point, it was obvious from Miyano’s expression that he was getting embarrassed listening to me. “Well, uh, I wish you lots of happiness in your future,” he mumbled. “Thanks. I think I’ll be happy my whole life,” I said. The gondola arrived at the intermediate station, halfway up the slope. “You know, that car really didn’t rock too much,” Miyano said as we got off, like he just thought of it. “Now you notice?” I said with a laugh. Once outside, two things occurred: We were met with a bone-chilling cold, and a bunch of students headed for the bathroom. Miyano and I just took in the night scenery. We decided to talk for a few more minutes and then catch a gondola back down. “Hey… That stuff you said. I think it helped me understand why Sasaki’s seemed…more lovely to me since he told me how he felt,” Miyano said. “Yeah?” I said, wondering if there might be a little development in this storyline when we got back. Maybe around Christmas or so? Not too far in the future. I realized that demanding a progress report would probably be too much rubbernecking—but Miyano being Miyano, I knew all I had to do was keep an eye on him. It would be easy enough to tell what happened. I decided not to say that I wanted him to be happy—it would put too much pressure on him. But it was the unvarnished truth. He and Sasaki had both been a big help to me, and I wanted the best for them. (Forget for a minute that I was also eager to report on them to my girlfriend.) Our conversation drifted away with the wisps of our breath in the cold air. I aimed my phone at the vast, dark night again, this time taking care there was no one else in the frame. I’d send the shot to Yuki, naturally. “I guess this is what the upperclassmen saw last year,” Miyano said. “You’re bringing that up now?” “When else am I supposed to bring it up?” He sounded put out, but as the long, thin strands of mist floated from his mouth, he turned toward the great shimmer of light and hit the shutter. Not that I believed he would send the picture to anyone. But that wasn’t the point, I thought. He was carving the scene into his memory, so that he would remember that here, at this moment, he’d been thinking about his upperclassman. That was my guess anyway, from my own experience with Yuki. After Mt. Moiwa, we went back to the hotel and headed straight for the bath. I knew all my roommates in our six-person room, including Tashiro, which made it easy to kick back and relax. We each grabbed a futon at random and flopped down, (while Miyano put a stop to Tashiro’s antics, who was mumbling about starting a pillow fight) chatted, and joked. Having been dissuaded from the pillow fight, Tashiro said, “You know how sometimes, when a guy gets out of the bath with his hair all wet, he looks so different you’re like, Who’s that? Well…you look exactly the same, Karasubara.” “Is that an insult?!” Karasubara snapped. I guess he was ticked, but it was true—his hair was frizzy all year round and had just as much volume when he got out of the bath as when he got in. Tashiro had been known to compare Karasubara’s light-toned locks to a bird’s nest. “I guess he can only remember guys by the shape of their hair. So much for that perm I was gonna get to try to settle this mess down.” “And Shirahama worked so hard on you. He used the hair dryer like a real stylist!” quipped Miyano. His hair wasn’t as finicky as Karasubara’s, but it was close. Shirahama had monopolized one of three hair dryer stations in the changing room and battled so hard that sweat started pouring down his forehead. So much for the bath he’d just taken! It must have stung that after all that, the hair didn’t even set. “Drying it should have helped a little. Keep it from jumping up without having to wax it. Stubborn stuff,” said Shirahama with a resentful look at Karasubara’s hair, where it spread out over the sheets.