Monday morning was quite cold, but the weather was nice. It was sunny, and there wasn’t any wind. Sousei arrived at school early and glanced at Kuchina’s shoe box. Her outdoor shoes were there. It seemed she was at school already, just as he’d thought. That put his mind at ease.
Sousei headed to the classroom. Since it was so cold outside, the inside of the school felt warm to him, maybe even a little hot. He went up the stairs and saw a girl standing outside Class 2-2 with her back against the wall. She was wearing a scarf and gloves. Sousei wondered whether she was hot like that. She was holding what looked like a notebook to her chest. It was definitely a notebook.
Even when Sousei approached, she didn’t look at him.
“Good morning, Miss Hitsujimoto,” he said to her. She finally looked at him. Just for a second. She glanced at him, lowered her gaze, then returned his “Good morning” in a low mumble.
“Oh—”
Sousei had been about to mention the notebook she was hugging, but she held it out just before he did.
“Here.”
“…Ahh,” was all Sousei could say. All the strength seemed to leave his body at his own spinelessness, but he still somehow managed to take the notebook from her. He should probably say thank you, right? Sousei hesitated. Thank you. What would he be thankful for? He wasn’t certain, but he definitely felt a sense of gratitude inside him. Kuchina had handed him the exchange diary first thing in the morning. He was grateful for that.
“Later,” she said, and briskly walked away. She didn’t enter the classroom. She’d probably go off somewhere, then return before morning homeroom started.
Sousei opened the notebook. His eyes were greeted by the sheep Kuchina had drawn at the end of her section. Below Sousei’s message, she had written the following:
After a back hip circle, I think a backward somersault would be best.
Swimming is an exercise that doesn’t put too much of a burden on your body.
I don’t really know anything about the Aurora Light Show.
I assume it’s light decorations in an aurora.
Is it something anyone can go to?
That evening, at Café Poppy, on the boundary between Yamanote and the shopping district, the music playing was from somewhere in Brazil. The elderly shop owner was taking his time brewing the coffee Kuchina had ordered. There was one other customer today—an old woman, who was sitting at the counter. She and the elderly shop owner occasionally exchanged a few quiet words, but Kuchina could hardly hear what the two of them were talking about from her seat at a table in the back. The old woman was wearing a lint-covered robe over her sleepwear. A worn-out coat, which she’d probably been wearing over her robe, was hanging over the back of her chair.
The old woman seemed to have said something along the lines of “I can’t deal with it anymore,” to which it looked like the owner had replied, “Oh yeah?”
Kuchina lowered her gaze to the notebook she had open on the table.