Chapter 57

AFTERWORD It’s been so hot these days, it almost feels like the sun is letting herself go. But recently it’s leveled off, and as the earlier sunsets bring a sense of autumn, I have only one thought. I want to eat one of those burgers with the fried egg you can only get at this time of year. Coincidentally, this trilogy also ends in the fall, and sometimes I wonder, as I stare up at yet another crisp autumn sky, if Connie used to look up at that same expanse. This season also always reminds me of certain events from my high school days. All right, I’ll be honest—one event in particular: the Death March, aka the forced field trip from hell. It was only a walking race, but unfortunately, my school took it quite seriously. How seriously? Well, we had to gather when it was still dark out, depart at dawn, and for some reason, run several dozen kilometers to the neighboring prefecture. Basically, it was a military march. Yes, we had to run. And at a decent pace, too. Why? Because rest stops had been set up, and if we didn’t get to them by a set time, we couldn’t stop there. Once I found that out, I realized something. “Aha, I see,” I said. This would not be the kind of field trip I was used to. Being a perennial nonparticipant in any and all sport activities, I quickly decided to decline to complete the race and announced my imminent forfeiture. Unfortunately, when I waved the white flag, everyone acted like I was crazy. It was finish line or bust for these people. Gym class also consisted exclusively of marathons. The actual task was simple, of course—just run. Run and run and run. As I ran, I realized one thing. Yeah, this was going to be impossible. Perhaps sensing a lack of enthusiasm among a certain group of students headed by my gutless self, our veteran-gym-teacher-aka-demon-sergeant furtively shared the secret to finishing long-distance races. “Listen up, kids. If you want to finish the race, do not under any circumstance aim for the finish line.” “Excuse me? I don’t understand.” The battle-hardened sergeant, who every year whipped hundreds of students into marathon shape, answered with extreme solemnity. To be specific, we were supposed to aim for the person in front of us, not the finish line. Obviously, I deemed this advice total BS and waited for the dreaded day to arrive. Then, when it did, I was predictably full of regret. And I was terrified. Even though I planned to give up, I was terrified. Of what? Well, I’d never once in my life run even a few kilometers, let alone a few dozen. Plus, we weren’t going to be on the familiar school track. We were going to be on a road I’d never seen before. As I was standing there in a panic, everyone else took off down the road and left me behind. That was terrifying, too. That’s when I remembered the words I’d brushed off as a joke. Like an idiot with no other strategy, I started running desperately toward the back of the person ahead of me. I passed them, aimed for the next person, passed them, and before I knew it, there was the road marker for the neighboring prefecture. Unbelievably, I’d made it. If I’d put any effort into preparing, I might have felt a sense of accomplishment or joy, but what I actually felt was closer to bewilderment. It was the next day before I even truly realized I’d finished the race. My whole body felt like I was a voodoo doll someone had stuck pins in, and my arms and legs were shaking like a newborn fawn’s. But I understood. This is what it feels like to go past my limit. Ultimately, two things got me to the finish line: the demon sergeant’s advice, and the unknown fellow combatants running in front of me who made it to the end. And now, with that monumental run-up (don’t worry, I already know I haven’t said anything important), I’d like to give thanks for all the help that allowed me to finish this other race alive, too. That’s all I was trying to say. The only difference between my present self and my high school self is that, this time, when I broke through the finish line tape, I felt so happy, I could have jumped for joy. So allow me to express my gratitude to one and all. To my editor, thank you once again for running alongside me from start to finish, occasionally leading the way, and being the reason I can say with pride, “This is my book…!” I am in awe of the technical and artistic skill that enables you to fit all the character blurbs onto the page even when I go crazy and keep adding more and more out of excitement. To Yu-nagi, I take off my hat to you for always thinking so deeply about what the characters are feeling and what expressions they’re making, and on top of that, figuring out how to draw them most effectively. I also admit to sobbing over the way every illustration practically jumps off the page. I knew they were going to be great, but I was still bowled over. You’re practically a saint. Hinase Momoyama, your comic version of the story has exactly the mood I wanted to create. The characters are even more vivid and appealing, the tempo of the dialogue is exquisite, and most important, the facial expressions are incredible. The magnetism you create is out of this world. By the way, my personal feeling is that the scenes where Teresa is murdered and where Randolph proposes are better in the comic version than the novels. A thousand different feelings of gratitude are crowding my heart like a traffic jam during Golden Week, but lastly, I’d like to sing a chorus of “thank-yous” to everyone who has read this far. Because you exist, I was able to have the incredible experience of writing this trilogy. I almost feel guilty for being the one who got to have all the fun. To make up for it even a little, let me conclude by promising to earnestly pray for world peace from this day onward. Kujira Tokiwa