The Clear Sea
>>I’VE BEEN JUMPING and hopping around lately.<<
>Seems good for your health.<
>>I hurt all over… But it’s fun. I kind of feel like it’s a luxury that I have an opportunity to become someone other than myself.<<
>Actors sure are something. I don’t think I could ever do that—become someone else, I mean. Not unless something drastic happened.<
>>But you’ve been on stage, too, Sayaka.<<
>That was…just me. I felt like I was starring in the play as myself.<
>>If you could pull off the role like that, that’s impressive in its own way. I’d like to do something like that again someday.<<
>Right. Someday.<
>>Yeah, someday.<<
I was a second year, and she was a first year. I don’t say this as a point of pride, just to explain why, when our eyes met, she gave me a nod but still kept her distance. Tracking my gaze, the friend sitting across from me asked, “Sayaka, is she a friend of yours?”
“Yes. She’s a first year, though.”
“Aw, she could have just come over anyway… Well, okay, maybe not.” My friend changed her mind mid-sentence, probably remembering her own days as a first year. It was harder to guess everyone’s ages without uniforms to mark their grades, and as a first year, everyone around you looked older. You felt out of place no matter where you went on campus.
“Next time we see her try to run off, let’s catch her.”
“Catch her?” I gave a strained smile. My friend’s uninhibited manner reminded me of someone from my high school days.
“Erm, what’s her name?”
“Edamoto-san.”
Edamoto Haru. I had yet to call my college underclassman by her first name.
Spring was scorching, the air shifting to a faint ochre color. Though our table at the open café sat under the shade of a parasol, it was still hot. The shadows of the pedestrians flowing past us were lengthening. I watched those shadows overlap for a while as the silence stretched and my friend’s eyelids grew heavy.
“I’m sleepy,” she grumbled lazily. She slumped down as if she had no intention of attempting to revive herself. “I really just shouldn’t eat lunch. It makes it impossible to function after.”
“But going hungry would make it hard to function, too,” I said.
My friend pinched the end of her straw, unneeded now that she’d finished her drink. “I guess. It’s a lose-lose situation.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I give up. I’m going home.” My friend pushed off the table to stand up, suddenly energetic, as though she’d forgotten all about being tired.
“What about class?” I asked.
“It’ll be fine. Skipping once isn’t so bad.”
“This is your third time.”
“If you don’t add them all up, it’s just three separate ones.”
I rolled my eyes at this illogical attempt to justify herself. Well, it didn’t affect me, so I supposed I didn’t care. My past self probably wouldn’t have forgiven others for being so flippant. I wasn’t sure whether I’d become more accepting or just too lenient.
We left the protection of the parasol, the sun beating down upon our heads. The summer of my twentieth year awaited me under that intense sunlight. At times, my high school days felt like a far-off dream, while other times it was like they had just happened yesterday.
I parted from my friend, who really was heading out through the main gate, and then blended into the flow of people going to the lecture building. When I looked at the sea of students and professors around me, each focused on their own goals and own thoughts, I felt strangely restless. I felt the world milling around me in the way one might be aware of the blood circulating throughout your body.
Someone once said that college is the best place to find something. That something could be your future career, future relationships, or even the truth of your own laziness…for better or worse. My friend, who fled from lectures, might have found something other than scholarship in college.
I hadn’t found anything concrete in my first year. What about my second? What might I find?
I looked to the skies, as though seeking something hidden beyond the dazzling light.
The next day, I happened to see Edamoto-san again in transit. My eyes met hers beyond the glass of a co-op store I passed, where she was standing before the register. In that moment, it was like the corners of her mouth and her tied-up hair both sprung up in greeting.
Still holding her wallet in her hand, she forcefully held up her palm toward me. Then, after looking around indecisively, she lowered the hand and the shopping basket it contained with a grunt. It seemed heavy. She was clearly in the middle of paying; why not just finish that up instead of getting so excited? The employee serving her seemed bewildered, too.
After Edamoto-san finished paying, chattering all the while, she rushed out of the store with such force that I feared she might drop her wallet, her purchases, and her bag all at once. There’s no need to rush, I thought automatically. As I silently waited for her to reach me, the sun passed behind the clouds. A strong wind ruffled the banner in front of the co-op, snapping it loud enough to reach my ears.
“It’s hard to signal someone that you want them to wait a sec, isn’t it?” she said awkwardly, with a bashful smile.
I couldn’t help smiling back at her. “It is. I didn’t understand in the least.”
“Aw, I knew it. Hmm, but you waited anyway, so I guess it’s fine.”
Edamoto-san put her wallet away and came up next to me, and we resumed walking in the same direction. I watched the way she walked: not with a stoop but with a slight pitch forward.
Edamoto Haru. A first-year college student, one year younger than me. She was petite, and her short ponytail would bounce charmingly like the tip of a brush when she walked. The corners of her eyes were slightly raised, like a cat’s—but when those eyes met mine, she would give me a cheerful smile, so she was much clearer and more forthright about intentions than any cat I’d even known.
When she faced forward, her ponytail and exposed ears gave her the sharp profile of a young boy, but when she turned toward you, her femininity was immediately apparent. It was both strange and novel to me to be around someone with such distinctly visual shifts in mood. She was always a touch too loud, and walked quickly, as though she hated to stop. She came to my side like this whenever she saw me, cheerfully, without a hint of hesitation.
“So, Edamoto-san…”
“You can call me Haru.”
“Edamoto-san.”
“You’re so stubborn.” Despite my evasion, her smile was untarnished. “So, what were you gonna say?”
“It seems like you’re following me. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“I don’t have afternoon lectures today, so I’m headed where I want to go. Right over here!”