LNCrawler

Chapter 5: Girls’ Day Out

Adachi and Shimamuralightnovel — LNCrawler · All chapters

Chapter 5:
Girls’ Day Out
I WAS LYING IN BED after work on a weekday when my phone suddenly started ringing. It was Shimamura.
“Would you rather do karaoke, go to a restaurant, or go to the river?”
It was the first thing she said to me during our first-ever phone call. What kind of question was this? Was she trying to ask me on a date? No, probably not.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Karaoke was my idea, Nagafuji suggested the restaurant, and Hino suggested the river.”
So, this was some kind of outing. Evidently my guess wasn’t far off…except that I didn’t expect other people to be involved.
“Hino asked me to hang out this Sunday, and I figured I’d invite you.”
“Oh. Gotcha. I don’t know… I feel like it’d just be awkward if I went.”
“Whoa… I didn’t realize you cared about that stuff,” Shimamura gasped, feigning shock.
Oh, come on. I laughed slightly. “What kind of jerk do you take me for?”
“A big—uh—proponent of not sweating the small stuff, that’s all.”
Were you about to call me “a big jerk”? Because that’s a pretty jerk move, too. “I’m really not. Believe it or not, I care a lot about what other people think.” Especially you. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that part.
“Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Well, I’ll just assume you’re coming.”
I hesitated for a moment, but ultimately gave in. “Uh…sure, why not.”
After all, I hardly ever got the opportunity to hang out with her on a weekend. If I turned her down, I’d just end up spending the whole day in my room while she went off and had fun without me.
“So, where would you like to go? You can suggest somewhere else if you want.”
“Wait, so…I’m the one who gets to decide where we’re all going?”
“Probably.”
“But I wasn’t even originally invited… Now I feel bad.”
“I’m pretty sure Hino would’ve invited you herself if she could’ve. She just doesn’t have your number.” At that, a smile crept onto my lips. Somehow, the fact that only Shimamura knew my number made me feel…secure. But I wasn’t brave enough to follow that feeling to its logical conclusion, so I ignored it.
“I don’t know… What would we do at the river?”
“Probably go fishing, since that’s what Hino likes.”
“Fishing…hmm.”
I tried to imagine it, but it didn’t feel right. Would the four of us just stand in a row, ankle-deep in ice-cold river water, waiting for something to bite while direct sunlight beat down on us? (Not that November weather was all that hot, but still.)
Personally, my family had never taken me on any nature trips as a kid, so when it came to the wild outdoors, the whole concept seemed joyless and tiring.
The restaurant option would probably see us spending a few hours at a Denny’s or a McDonald’s, eating and chatting. Would I be able to fit in? I couldn’t think of any common ground between the four of us, which meant there wouldn’t be much for me to talk about. In fact, I could easily picture myself sitting there in tedious silence for hours on end.
“Let’s do karaoke, then.”
Using the process of elimination, that seemed like the safest choice. We wouldn’t need to talk much, and if there was a lull in the conversation, we could just focus on whoever was singing. Plus, it was Shimamura’s idea, and I wanted to support it, even if it was something she chose at random.
“Okay! I’ll let them know.”
Hearing her voice on the other end of the line grow distant, I realized she was probably about to hang up, so I hastily called out to her. “Hey, uh, Shimamura?”
“Hmm?”
Sure enough, her voice was quieter now, as though she’d already pulled her phone away from her face. I knew that if I hesitated for even a moment, she would end the call.
So, I summoned all my courage and blurted out, “Would you wanna sing something together?”
“Sure, but what? I don’t actually know what kind of music you listen to.”
It took everything I’d had to ask that question, and yet she made it sound like no big deal. Wait . Hadn’t we talked about music before? Going back through my memories, it felt as though we definitely had. Most likely she’d simply forgotten.
“I’d say I have pretty normal taste.”
“Okay then, what’s a ‘normal’ song to you?”
“Uhhh…I’m sure whatever you like is fine,” I replied, after trying and failing to think of a specific example. Ugh, why am I like this?
“I wouldn’t be so sure… I like a lot of oldies and stuff.”
“How old are we talking? ‘Old’ as in music from before we were born?”
“Stuff from the nineties. You know, like Robinson by Spitz?”
“Oh, okay. I could probably sing that.”
In fact, I didn’t know that Robinson was a nineties song at all. I heard it every now and then on the radio, and it really didn’t sound that old. That said, I didn’t have the lyrics memorized, so I would need to look them up.
“Once Hino decides on the details, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
If Shimamura had given Hino my number, then she wouldn’t have needed to call me back. Thus, it was a good thing that she hadn’t. To me, anyway.
“Anyway, see you Sunday!”
Getting a little ahead of ourselves, are we?
“Uh…you know we have school tomorrow, right?” I asked.
“Oh, right. Okay, see you tomorrow!”
At times like these, I never knew exactly when to end the call, so often the other person and I would sit in awkward silence for a while until one of us figured it out. Not Shimamura, though—she hung up straight away. In a way, that really demonstrated who she was as a person.
I set my phone down, sat up, and looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. It was the first week of November, and today was Wednesday. There was still quite a while to go until Sunday.
At that point, I was attending class every day—and eating lunch with Shimamura once every three days. Nothing else worth mentioning. At my part-time job, I’d started to pay more attention to the parking lot’s contents, since I was terrified Shimamura’s family would come back for dinner again. But, other than that, nothing had really changed.
For the record, the family hadn’t returned since the first time, probably because Shimamura didn’t want her mom asking me any invasive questions. You’d think adults would still remember what it was like to be a teenager, yet they always seemed to forget after enough years passed. Was that just another part of growing up?
I let out what felt like my umpteenth sigh. At least my life is less boring now, I guess.
While I appreciated Shimamura’s invite, I wasn’t crazy about the prospect of her other friends being there. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I was still really frustrated.
Knowing Shimamura, she’d only invited me because Hino told her to. Obviously she wouldn’t say it to my face, though, because she wanted to be polite. I appreciated that, too.
But it didn’t change the fact that I was an afterthought.
Later that night, in bed, I thought back to the day we’d first met.
***
When I arrived at the gym loft, Shimamura was already there—sitting cross-legged on the floor on top of some green netting, as I recall. This was back when we were still wearing our summer uniforms, and I remember seeing a faint tan line on her arm.
She turned and noticed me, and our eyes met. She still carried that telltale junior-high vibe, which meant she was probably a first-year like me.
I didn’t know her name, but it quickly became apparent that she knew mine.
“Adachi, right?”
“Uh…yeah?”
“We’re in the same class.”
She waved at me. Naturally, I didn’t recognize her at all.
The second semester had just started, and compared to October, the temperature was sweltering . At least when you were outside, there was some small chance of a breeze, but in the loft? It felt like walking into an oven. As such, it didn’t strike me as an ideal hideout in the least, especially since someone else had beaten me to it.
But I couldn’t exactly respond to her enthusiastic “Hey, I know you!” with “Cool story, bye.” We were in the same boat—both cutting class. And I was a tiny bit curious about what her reasons were.
With nowhere better to go, I sat down on the edge of a dusty old ping-pong table. When she introduced herself, she joked, “They call me Shimamura Co.,” and just like that, I couldn’t unsee it. Whenever I thought about her, I envisioned the store logo.
“You come here often?”
“Nah. Just felt like it today.” I had been on my way to my usual spot when I noticed a teacher out on patrol, so I snuck into the loft to hide. Luckily, none of the classes were using the gym at the moment. “What about you?”
“Likewise.”
I’d later learn that this was the first day Shimamura ever skipped class. She explained to me that she “couldn’t get in the right headspace” for class after being away from school for so long, but I had no way of knowing if that was the truth. Maybe she was running from something. Maybe something had happened over summer break. But I didn’t care as much back then, so I just let it go.
I sat a reasonable distance from Shimamura. The conversation had died, and all that flowed between us was our own sweat. She dabbed hers with a handkerchief; I took out a hand towel and wiped off whatever remained of my makeup.
In my boredom, I played around on my cell phone for a minute, but there wasn’t much to do except check the time. Ugh, why is lunch so far away? I glanced at Shimamura and saw her staring blankly up at the window. At the time, I wondered what she was thinking about. Later, I’d learn that the answer was “nothing much.”
Alone, the silence was tolerable. With someone else present, however, I was obliged to worry about whether silence made them uncomfortable, and I found that emotional labor needlessly exhausting.
Right around the time I started contemplating whether I should make an excuse to leave, however, I heard a loud chirping sound. Startled, I looked up…and realized a cicada clung to the window outside.
It was screaming with so much energy, you’d think this was still the height of August. Shimamura and I exchanged a glance, almost reflexively. We smiled awkwardly.
“So obnoxious.”
“Totally.”
She pushed herself to her feet, walked over to the window, and tapped on the glass. The cicada fell, possibly knocked loose by the vibration—I saw it try to flap its wings, and yet it plummeted straight down regardless. Shimamura hastily retracted her hand, then turned to look at me with an expression that said, “Oh crap.”
At the time, I hoped desperately that she wasn’t about to drag me into something. Sadly, I would not prove fortunate.
The cicada had fallen silent. For a while, Shimamura just stared out the window. Then, eventually, she turned and pointed to the stairs with the same finger that had just sent an annoying bug to its doom.
“Wanna go check on him?” she asked.
Evidently, she felt guilty for inadvertently causing the cicada’s demise.
“Sure,” I agreed, since I didn’t have anything better to do. Maybe, once we were outside, I would find an excuse to part ways.
We headed down the stairs and walked out to the athletic field, where a group of male students unenthusiastically ran laps. Taking care to stay out of sight, we snuck around to the back of the building. There, growing all by itself in the shaded space between the gym and the martial-arts dojo, a single tall tree reached up to the loft window. At the base of its trunk was the cicada from earlier.
It lay on its back, frantically flapping its wings, but to no avail. Evidently this little bug was on its last legs and lacked the strength to right itself. I heard more cicadas above us in the tree, but they didn’t seem to care that their friend had fallen. As a truant student, I found that I could relate.
Shimamura crouched down and reached out.
“Ew, you’re gonna touch it?”
“These aren’t that gross. But if it was a worm or a roly-poly, no way.”
I didn’t understand her benchmark for what made a cicada any less gross. Was it because they could fly? After a moment of contemplation, I decided that made sense. After all, I could see myself touching a ladybug, but not a centipede.
Shimamura picked up the cicada hesitantly. Naturally, it started squirming like crazy.
“Gah!”
She squirmed in kind, trying to put some distance between herself and the bug, but because she was holding it, that was obviously kind of impossible. Don’t you dare bring that thing over here.
Eventually the two of them wore each other out, and they both calmed down. Shimamura paused, shook her head, and approached the tree.
“Climb on, little guy!”
She held the cicada to the tree trunk, and its legs began to flail again. But, when she let go, the bug had firmly attached itself to the bark and was screaming away once more. With our mission accomplished, we returned to the gym.
At some point I’d forgotten to make an excuse to slip away, but oh well. I didn’t feel like it anymore.
As we climbed the loft stairs, Shimamura asked me, “How many more days do you think he’ll live for?”
“No clue,” I answered honestly.
“Yeah, me neither,” she replied.
There was a brief pause as we arrived at the landing. Then I asked her, “How long would you want it to live?”
She stopped to consider this. “I’ll say…fifteen more days.”
Sure enough, fifteen days later, she came to the loft with dirt on her palms. If I had to guess, she was probably out digging a grave for the cicada.
That was the story of how Shimamura and I first met…back when I didn’t yet consider her a friend.
***
As was typically the case whenever I met up with Shimamura, I was nervous for a variety of reasons.
On my bike, I passed through a shopping district (mostly dead, save for a confectionery store and a bike repair shop), crossed over the long-disused railroad tracks, and made a left. There, I spotted our meetup location just ahead.
Sure enough, once I passed the bank and the bus stop, I noticed Shimamura leaning against the post office sign out front. Come to think of it, she was oddly diligent about these things. Why else was she always the first to arrive whenever we met up?
She waved at me, and I waved back shyly as I rolled toward her.
“You know, for a girl who’s always late to class, you sure are punctual when it comes to hanging out!”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I replied.
Personally, I was just relieved to see that the sparkly girl wasn’t with her this time. I wouldn’t put it past Shimamura to randomly encounter her in the street and bring her along “for fun.” Who was she, anyway? I knew Shimamura was probably just being nice and humoring her, but…I mean, the hair? The eyes? Clearly, she had to come from another planet, right?
“Cool clothes—where’d you get them? Shimamura Co.?”
“Gee, I’ve never heard that one before,” Shimamura replied, pinching the hem of her white knitted sweater with a scowl.
Instantly I regretted what I’d said. Apparently, her other friends had already made that joke, and I did not want to be like them.
“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your Chinese dress.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Shimamura didn’t have a bike with her; evidently, she’d walked here. As we waited for the others, she wandered in circles around the parking lot, and I watched her from a distance. I was tempted to strike up a conversation…but I couldn’t think of a topic.
I never used to pay so much attention to Shimamura before, but now I hyper-fixated on her every move. Lately I noticed her appearance a lot more often, too. She was just really pretty.
“Hey, so…”
“Hmm?” She turned in my direction as she walked around and around in a figure-eight shape.
“I memorized those lyrics.”
“Huh? What lyrics…? Oh, right! For our duet.”
For a second there, I was scared she’d forgotten, so those last few words came as an immense relief.
“If we have any other songs in common, we should sing those, too.”
“Yeah.”
There was still no sign of the other two girls…and I was tempted to steal Shimamura and go somewhere else. But just then, almost as if karma read my mind, I spotted Hino and Nagafuji on the bridge to our right, riding tandem on a bicycle. The short one did the pedaling, and the tall one sat there idly with her hands resting on the other girl’s shoulders. It looked so backward, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, hey, they’re here!”
Shimamura stepped out into the street to flag them down, and they each responded by waving both hands. Wait, don’t do that! That’s dangerous!
With no grip on the handlebars, the girls rolled down the bridge’s slope and coasted right over to us, using the soles of their shoes to brake. Weirdos . Hino grinned at me like she could hear what I was thinking.
Meanwhile, Nagafuji leapt off the bike.
“You still don’t know how to ride a bike?” Shimamura asked her.
“Of course not,” she replied coolly, and it was then that I realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses today. As a result, her almond-shaped eyes were more pronounced. Oddly enough, the lack of glasses actually increased her usual “intellectual” vibe, something I didn’t know was possible. Isn’t it usually the other way around?
Nagafuji and Hino approached me.
“Hey there, Ada-chee!” Hino greeted me casually. That was actually the same nickname I’d had in grade school. Truth be told, I didn’t really see the point in a “nickname” that sounded identical to my actual last name.
“Hiya, Ada-chee!” Nagafuji repeated playfully.
“Ada-chee!” Shimamura chimed in with a grin. Reflexively I looked away, fighting the impulse to pull my cardigan hood over my face.
Hino and Nagafuji aside, I was viscerally opposed to Shimamura calling me that for some reason. Well…okay, not “opposed,” per se. Just…self-conscious…? In other words, I was embarrassed. To distract myself, I turned and straddled my bike.
“Which way to the karaoke place?” I asked, hoping a little bike ride would cool my burning cheeks.
“That way,” said Hino, pointing in the direction from which I’d come, toward a building just across the street.
The sign out front, which read something-I-couldn’t-make-out Village, advertised “BBQ, BUFFET, KARAOKE, AND CHILDCARE.” That struck me as an incongruent mess, and yet the parking lot was packed full of cars.
Also…if the building was ten seconds away on foot, then why did we bother meeting up at the post office at all? With a sigh, I hopped off my bike and decided to push it along instead. Ugh, I look like a loser.
“I’m surprised you actually showed up,” Hino mused.
“I know, right?” Shimamura agreed.
Both of them were looking at me, so I knew they were talking about me. But what I didn’t understand was why they seemed to want me to explain why I’d showed up. If I told them my real reason for coming, they’d think I was a total creep. I could only imagine the weird looks they’d give me.
“I didn’t have anything better to do,” I lied. Thinking about it, that was probably the reason why people saw me as aloof and bitchy. Admittedly, I did have trouble fitting into social situations… Maybe I just hadn’t had enough experience, in which case today would serve as good practice for me.
“Aha. ‘Because I was bored’—the ultimate motivation for any Shinigami. Excellent.” Hino nodded to herself. Was she referencing something? I didn’t get it.
The karaoke parlor’s interior was dimly lit, decorated with pumpkins and metallic black curtains. Halloween had been weeks ago, but apparently this place didn’t get the memo. On the right was a sofa set, where two elderly men sat playing a leisurely game of Othello. In fact, there were groups of old people everywhere I looked, and by contrast, the four of us stuck out like a sore thumb. The old people didn’t seem suspicious of us, probably because we were just kids in their eyes, but I didn’t enjoy getting stared at, regardless of the reason.
On the wall was a sign with the price breakdown. Weekends cost 180 yen per thirty minutes, or 360 yen for an hour. That was a lot cheaper than the karaoke place at the station square. The sign also advertised something called the “Nine-Hour Special,” but I couldn’t say I was interested. If we spent nine hours here, we wouldn’t leave until really late, and I had work tonight.
“Should we do four hours to start?” Hino asked us. To me, that still seemed like an excessive amount of time.
“That makes sense,” Nagafuji replied.
Does it? I guess it does.
As for Shimamura, she stayed silent, toying with a strand of her hair.
Hino went ahead and paid for four hours. As it turned out, the employees were all elderly, too. Why did she bring us here, of all places? I guess that’s Hino for you.
Next, she led us to a room at the end of the hall. Maybe this part was no big deal for everyone else, but for me, it was nerve-wracking. Having to decide where to sit always stressed me out.
The room was fairly cramped, with white walls and two black sofas. I saw Shimamura head for the sofa on the right-hand side, so I casually followed. My legs felt a little stiff and robotic, but in the end, I succeeded in sitting next to her. Hino and Nagafuji sat down on the opposite sofa.
Maybe this seating arrangement would’ve happened regardless, but for me, it was essential .
“Can I put our bags here?” asked Shimamura.
“Sure,” I nodded, biting back a grin as I triumphantly reveled in my accomplishment. It wasn’t like I’d need my phone for anything, much less any of the other stuff in my bag. Plus, my bike key was safely in my pocket.
I reached for the menu on the table. I wasn’t especially hungry, but I wanted something to look at while I waited. Unfortunately, Nagafuji grabbed it a split-second ahead of me. I shrank back; she gave me a look that said, “You sure you don’t want it?” I held up a hand in a “no, you keep it” gesture.
Meanwhile, Hino struck a dramatic pose as she turned the mic on. “All right, I’ll go first! The vortex of tiiiime —”
“Stop that.” Nagafuji promptly confiscated the mic from Hino, which I appreciated. Why sing without actually inputting the song into the system?
“Okay, fine! I’ll sing something else,” Hino conceded, and the mic was swiftly returned. “Uhhhh…”
She punched her song of choice into the remote—a children’s song, for some reason. As she sang, she peered down at the menu lying open in Nagafuji’s lap. Then she pointed at an item.
“If we’re getting a pitcher, get green tea—it’s better for your throat, compared to oolong. At least, that’s what my favorite teacher told me.”
“Who are you talking about?” asked Shimamura.
“Mr. S, the karaoke lover.”
“That still sounds like you’re dodging the question.” Annoyed, Shimamura scowled. Our homeroom teacher’s last name started with a T, so it had to be someone else.
After Hino finished her children’s song, she held the mic up. “Who’s next?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Shimamura, who was reading the leaflets on the table. Before long, she sensed my gaze and looked up. Our eyes met, and then she gave me a look that asked, “Wanna sing together?”
I hastily shook my head. Not yet.
“Okay, my turn!” Nagafuji announced as she took the mic.
Hino put a hand on her hip. “Do you even know the words to any songs?”
“Uhhhh…ummmm…” Nagafuji hesitated. Somehow she still looked dignified, even when she stared at the floor. “I’ll just have you sing all the parts I don’t know!”
“So, you want me to sing another song by myself? It’s turning into a one-woman show over here!”
Despite that statement’s implication, Nagafuji didn’t seem offended in the least. Apparently she had some sort of memory problem; she couldn’t even remember my name unless someone reminded her. She opened the song book and started to hunt through it for a song number, and it occurred to me that Hino must have put a number in completely at random.
A short while later, our pitcher of green tea arrived, delivered to us by—you guessed it—another elderly man. Absently, I wondered exactly how old all the staff were. We poured four cups of tea, and after we shared a formal toast, Nagafuji added her song to the system: a slightly older tune by an artist named Nijou Owari.
The song itself was too upbeat for my taste, but I liked the piano accompaniment, as well as the person playing it, who was known for only ever wearing kimonos. I once read an interview she’d done in a magazine; she and the singer spent the whole thing talking about some dog. And, when someone asked her about music, she started talking about a diner she went to.
“Do you know this one?” Shimamura asked me between sips of tea.
I nodded. “I don’t know the lyrics, but yeah.”
“Huh. I’ve never heard it before,” she replied, seemingly uninterested, and took another sip.
She was really going hard on the tea—not because she was actually thirsty, but purely out of restless anxiety. That much was obvious, even to an outside observer like me. Try as she might to act as though she was right at home in this environment, I could tell she was forcing it—especially compared to her usual behavior in the gym loft. Like it or not, this was outside her comfort zone.
Perhaps she and I actually approached social situations with a similar mindset, but she was simply better at hiding it. Maybe that was why I found myself drawn to her—because we were birds of a feather. Whenever we were in a group of four, it became painfully apparent how much better-off Shimamura and I were when it was just the two of us.
In the end, Hino ended up taking over most of the second song, too. Afterward, she held the mic in our direction. “Your turn!” she grinned.
Shimamura and I exchanged a glance…and what followed was the world’s shortest game of hot potato.
“If we’re going clockwise, then it’s your turn.”
“Hmmm…okay, I know what we’re doing.” Shimamura took the mic. “Could you get us another one?” she asked Hino. Then she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. “We’re doing a duet!”
As we scooted around the table to the front of the room, I hesitated. This was happening way too soon. Still, I could tell Shimamura wasn’t serious about forcing me into it—just guiding me along.
She grabbed the remote and punched in the number. Apparently, she’d looked it up in advance. My heart thumped in my chest, begging her to slow down. It felt as though a hand pressed my back, pushing me forward against my will.
I was never great at singing in front of an audience, and I always hated graded performances in music class. But today I would be singing with Shimamura. Simple stage fright was the least of my worries now.
We stood side by side, almost like we were standing at a teacher’s podium to give a class presentation. I was so nervous, my stomach was in knots…and, as the opening notes played, I started to feel lightheaded. But right as I began to worry that I was going to pass out, Shimamura spoke suddenly.
“I actually really appreciate you coming up to sing with me.”
“Huh?” Where had that come from?
Smiling, she switched on her mic. “I’m not great at singing in front of people, you know?”
“Don’t make excuses, you wet blanket! Just do it!” Hino jeered playfully from her seat. Meanwhile, Nagafuji was busy ordering something else off the menu.
As for me, well… Shimamura’s little confession brought a smile to my face. She’s the same way! My heart fluttered with joy. It felt as though we’d grown that much closer.
“Same, actually. I’m glad you’re up here with me,” I told her.
Then the prelude ended, and it was time to sing…so I poured my heart into it.
***
Once our allotted four hours were up, we wound up getting an extension. In the end, we left after five hours of singing. The others made me get up and sing by myself several times, and I had to fight the urge to crawl in a hole and die…but Shimamura told me I did great, so maybe it was all worth it.
Now I was starting to understand exactly what it was I wanted from her.
By the time we left the karaoke parlor, it was already three o’clock. The sun was out, but the temperature was notably milder compared to the previous month’s weather. Winter was on the way, and soon this year would come to an end. Functionally speaking, however, January wasn’t that much different from December. The numbers on the calendar would change, but that was about it.
“Did you have a good time, my dear Ada-chee?” asked Hino.
I wish she wouldn’t go out of her way to ask me my opinion—it makes me feel like an outsider. Which I am, technically, but still. And I notice she’s still calling me Ada-chee.
“Yeah, it was fun,” I replied, glancing at Shimamura out of the corner of my eye. She looked back at me with a patronizing smile, as if to say “Good for you!” It was almost like she was my mom or something.
If anyone else tried to act like that, I would’ve ripped them a new one…but, because it was her, I was fine with it. Happy, even.
“Glad to hear it! We’ll be sure to invite you again sometime. And by ‘we,’ I mean Shimamura.”
“Why me? I mean…not that I mind.” For a split-second, she made a face like, “Why don’t you do it?” Classic Shimamura.
Then Hino patted me on the shoulder and hopped onto her bike, a knowing grin on her face. “Welp, see you folks tomorrow!”
What had that been about?
Hino waved at us; I waved back slightly. Then Nagafuji walked up to her. “Are you sure you know where I live?”
“Do you think I’m stupid or something? Remind me again who picked your ass up this morning?”
Bickering, they sped off down the street toward the bridge. They were nothing if not close friends, but I didn’t appreciate their overly familiar attitude toward me. I’d intentionally kept a respectable distance from them, but nevertheless, they were starting to treat me like their little buddy.
Not that I hated them, per se… I just wasn’t used to that sort of personality. None of my other friends were ever quite that forward with me.
“Well, now that I’m done entertaining them , I guess it’s time to go home and entertain my sister!” Shimamura joked with a giggle. With that, our fun little moment finished; she turned and started walking. To me, it felt like she was hanging up on me all over again. She was always so quick to end things—I wished she would give me enough time to properly articulate my thoughts. Instead, I blurted them out.
“Want me to…take you home?”
She stopped short. My hand slipped off the brake, and I slid a bit too far forward.
“It’s not that far from here, right? And, uh…I wouldn’t want you to have to walk all that way.”
Belatedly I realized the contradiction in what I had just said. Shimamura looked confused, too. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to come up with an excuse.
She glanced over at Hino and Nagafuji’s figures steadily retreating into the distance, then donned a smile. “Sure, I’ll catch a ride with you.”
What a relief.
She placed her bookbag into my bike basket, put her hand on my shoulder, and hopped on.
“Take me away, Ada-chee!”
“Okay, no. You have to call me by my actual name,” I insisted, glancing at her over my shoulder.
She looked at me in surprise, her eyes wide. “It’s not that drastically different, is it? Do you not like nicknames or something? And why am I the only one not allowed?”
“It’s not that. I don’t have anything against you in particular…” But if you wanted to come up with your own unique nickname for me, I’d be okay with that.
Instead of finishing my thought, however, I started pedaling—slowly at first, as I struggled with the added weight, then gradually faster and faster over time. Although I enjoyed the thrill of the escalating speed, I didn’t want to get there too quickly, so I kept my pace in check.
The mere thought of going to Shimamura’s house made me dizzy. No way could I go back in there today—maybe not ever. I was still traumatized from last time.
“Make a right here, then go straight for a while.”
“Okay.”
I took a right turn, as requested. We sailed down the footpath that crossed the abandoned railroad tracks, then headed through the shopping district on a path so narrow, I could only hope we wouldn’t encounter anyone else headed in our direction.
“For real, though, did you have fun?” Shimamura asked me after a few minutes.
“Kinda,” I replied honestly, since it was just the two of us. I didn’t exactly have the time of my life, and if Shimamura hadn’t been there, I would’ve found an excuse to leave early.
After spending the day in a group setting, I was once again viscerally reminded that my feelings for Shimamura were different.
I didn’t mind the prospect of being friends with Hino and Nagafuji—but only friends. I was fine hanging out with them over the weekend, but not on a special holiday like Christmas. That was how I knew I only thought of them as friends.
Shimamura, though? I did want to spend Christmas with her. And not just Christmas, either—New Year’s, and Valentine’s Day, and all the holidays after that. I wanted to be close to her…and now, I was starting to understand why.
Most likely, what I wanted from Shimamura was the familial affection of a sister or a mom. It was hard to put into words, but basically, I wanted someone to hold me…to protect me…to accept me. Probably because my relationship with my real family left a lot to be desired.
If I ever admitted that, though, I knew I’d sound like a total child. And I’d sooner have died than told Shimamura that I wanted her to be my oneechan.
“Oh, actually, could you make a left here?” she asked suddenly.
Intrigued, I did as she requested. Up ahead, I spotted a deserted plot of land, covered in a fine layer of sand and dotted with children’s play equipment—a park, in other words. Back in preschool, I used to love playing around on the jungle gym.
“Wow. Your house looks really different from the last time I visited,” I joked.
“I know, right? Who needs walls or indoor plumbing? Ha ha ha. Anyway, shut up and pull over, would you?”
I slowed to a stop next to the playground. Shimamura hopped off and headed across the sandy ground to the vending machine nearby. As I locked up my bike, she called out to me, “I was thirsty, so I wanted to stop for a drink real quick. What kind would you like? My treat!”
Something about her offer reminded me of our lunch conversations back when we used to cut class.
“Do they have mineral water?”
“Nope, just canned drinks. Is Pocari Sweat okay?”
“Uhhhh…sure.”
She returned carrying two cans, and together we walked through the playground. There were plenty of benches to sit on, but instead we headed for the swing set, where we each took a seat. Her swing was yellow and mine was red, though the paint was peeling; when I touched the chains, rust residue got all over my fingers. When I wiped it away, it crumbled into nothing, just like old memories. But only the good ones; the bad memories liked to stick around.
“Thanks for hanging in there,” she said as she handed me my drink.
“Oh, please,” I laughed, shaking my head. “We were just hanging out.”
“But it’s still out of your comfort zone, right?”
“Well… Maybe…”
“If you don’t want me to invite you anymore, I’ll stop.”
There she goes, treating me like a little kid. I shook my head slightly. After all, if Shimamura was the person inviting me, then that meant she’d be going, too. “That’s okay. I really don’t mind it, so feel free to keep inviting me.”
“You sure?” she replied, then sipped her drink. A moment later, she started to sway back and forth on her swing, and I sensed that she was bored. I stared down at my can of Pocari, then took a tiny sip.
For a Sunday afternoon, this place was really deserted. Here I was, alone with Shimamura…but I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Somehow it felt like that glitter-girl was going to pop out right when I least expected it, like a ghost. A sparkly blue ghost.
“So, what’s up?” Shimamura asked out of the blue, peering at me as the swings creaked under our weight. I didn’t know what she was talking about, so I gave her a funny look. “Oh… Well…” She paused for a moment. “You were looking at me an awful lot during karaoke, so I thought maybe there was something you wanted to talk about.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. She was on to me. Admittedly, yes, we had made eye contact numerous times in the karaoke room, but I didn’t realize she noticed me looking all the other times, too. My spike in tension radiated through my body to the swing, and the chains rattled in response—a reflection of my own internal panic.
I averted my eyes. The blood rushed to my head as I contemplated how to respond. For starters, I’ll play dumb and see where that gets me.
“Was I?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. I shrank down slightly, but continued to feign innocence.
“Are you sure you’re not just paranoid?”
“I literally saw you looking at me. Multiple times.”
Indeed she had. Each time she caught me, I’d tried to play it off by smiling vaguely, but apparently that didn’t work. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, hoping to gauge her reaction.
“There! You just did it again!”
Guilty as charged. I hastily averted my gaze.
Did I actually want to talk to her about something? Plenty of things, sure. But I knew that the second I tried, she’d get weirded out and run away, so I hesitated. Faltered. Festered.
My feelings built and built inside my chest, blossoming, ripening—but fragile. After enough time, they would rot on the vine and fall forgotten to the ground. A tiny sapling had sprouted up from my heart to my mouth, climbing like ivy in search of the sun. I tried to hold it back, but couldn’t stop myself in time.
My breathing grew so labored, I sounded like a panting dog. I lowered my head in Shimamura’s direction.
“Could you…pet me?”
All I could say to myself in response to that was… Wow . I understood why I’d said it, but that didn’t make it any less cringeworthy. I was terrified to see the look on her face. I got the feeling I would plummet face-first into the sand if I let go of my swing.
“Hmm.”
Her response was curt and detached, like a scientist observing her lab rat. Meanwhile, I could feel her looking at my head. I started to sweat. My throat trembled with the impulse to scream, “Just kidding!” The vibrations traveled to my arms. I take it back. I take it back. I take it back.
For a long, agonizing moment, I found myself torn between regret, despair, and something else entirely. Then—right as I gave in and looked up—I felt a tiny fingertip brush my bowed head, light as a feather.
“Whoa,” I murmured reflexively. My heart lit up like fireworks.
At first, she tapped me lightly on the scalp as though testing the water. Then her small, dainty hand cupped my head and slowly stroked my hair. Were her fingers running through my hair, or was my hair running through her fingers? After a while, I couldn’t tell.
“You’re such a needy baby.”
I seemed to remember her making a similar comment at some point in the past. As with the last time, I was too shy to look at her, so I couldn’t see her expression. Was she exasperated with me, or merely amused? There was no loud gust of wind to interrupt us—almost as though the planet itself was frozen in time, just for this single moment.
My heart pounded like crazy, but my mind was mournfully calm—a striking contrast that made it clear to me just how separate those things were. I could tell that my head was leaning into her palm, silently imploring her to continue.
“More?”
Her palm brushed over my bangs. I nodded wordlessly, and she ran her hand gently over my head. Every time her fingers slid through my hair, my mind went blank. If I’d had a tail, I would’ve been wagging it like crazy right about now.
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Clearly, something was deeply wrong with me. Was I stupid, or merely some kind of freak? Probably both. Maybe I’d be better off wondering what the stupid-to-freak ratio looked like.
“Is that enough?”
I felt myself wanting to ask for more, so I pursed my lips and nodded instead. “Mm-hmm.”
She pulled her hand away, and I summoned all the courage I could find to raise my head and look at her. She was smiling and rubbing her fingers together.
“You’d better not start calling me Oneechan at school,” she warned jokingly.
“No promises,” I replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
She must have felt as awkward as I did, because she started to chug her drink. Once the can was empty, she held out her free hand in my direction. “Here, I’ll go throw them away.”
“Oh, uh…I’m not done with mine. I’m gonna take it home and finish it later.”
“Oh, okay.”
She got up and walked to the trash to dispose of her can. Once I’d made sure she wasn’t watching, I tilted my can upside-down. Bone dry. I was a liar.
Truthfully, I planned to take it home and decorate my room with it. Was that creepy? Maybe so. But I knew Shimamura would never see my room… So, if it didn’t hurt anyone, and it made me happy, then where was the harm? One girl’s trash is another girl’s treasure.
My scalp continued to tingle long after the head pats stopped. I got up and carefully set my empty can into my bike basket. Then Shimamura returned, and we got ready to take off.
Once I’d unlocked the bicycle chain and straddled the seat, she climbed on behind me. The feeling of her hand on my shoulder made me nervous. I thought back to the time I’d held that hand in mine, and my cheeks flushed. I started to pedal, keeping my head tilted down. After all, sunset was still a few hours away, so I couldn’t blame any redness on a mere trick of the light.
Together on my bicycle, Shimamura and I left the park. Ten minutes from now, as with all good things, this private moment we’d shared would come to an end.
But hey, that rarity is part of what makes it so special, right? It’s fun to go diving, but eventually you have to come up for air. Then, once you’ve caught your breath, you can go back under and keep searching for more buried treasure.
I wanted my relationship with Shimamura to be special. Not necessarily in a weird way—no, really. But then again, I wasn’t opposed to that, either…which meant that I was probably in love with her.