Sacra Story 7th

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama

===========================================================

~7th Story~ April 1st – April Fool’s Day

I am now walking alone towards that park along the riverside, on the way that I’m already accustomed to.

‘Let’s break up. …I’m sorry. Thank you for everything.’

‘What kind of joke is this? Ah, I see… It’s April Fool’s Day, right?

At her all too sudden words, I thought at first that it must be one of her usual jokes but by her serious look which was different than usual

I realized those were her true feelings:

‘I see…If you say so, then there’s nothing to be done. I understand’, I said and after we agreed to break up, I watched her leaving.

It was on the 1st of April 1999. That day was her 19th birthday.

It happened by the time there would have been three years since I had started dating Orie.

We were classmates during high school. I was in the baseball club, where she held the position of manager. At first I didn’t like Orie. She had a beautiful appearance but was reticent and not very sociable; furthermore, because she was frequently absent from school, everybody was asking: ‘How come is she the manager?’

As for the whole story about how this kind of girl and I started dating, well, one day after school, after I finished to even the sports ground, I went back to the club room to change into my school uniform and there was Orie, sitting on a chair, sewing each player’s number on the back of the uniforms; when she saw me, she exclaimed something in a small voice and, when I saw that her cheeks turned red, I thought: ‘She’s really pretty, isn’t she?’ Since that day on I started liking her to the point I ended up always looking around for her; because I was like that even during practice, I wasn’t even able to do simple fly balls and catches anymore, so, as I couldn’t suppress my emotions, I called Orie during the lunch break and confessed my feelings for her.

Orie received my confession with no objection and from that day on we were together; as a result, we used to go together on a different route coming home from school, taking a roundabout way on purpose, then on holidays we used to go together to the amusement park or to the zoo, spending time together like any couple.

During the time until graduation, partly because her behaving with abandon and mostly because of her selfish personality, she used to repeat sobbingly that we should break up, but I’d apologize and we’d be reconciled every time. However, for I also had habits that I couldn’t get rid of, the fight happened during the second semester of the last high school year, after the guidance counseling class, when Orie said: ‘If you go to Tokyo, then we’re breaking up.’ And, without even hearing to what I had to say, she walked through the corridor briskly. I just said to myself: ‘What’s with her anyway. I have no idea…’ About two days passed without us even talking to each other, but on the evening of the third day I received a call from Orie: “I’m sorry, Fumihiko… It’s just that, if you’ll go to Tokyo, I won’t be able to see you and I can’t stand the idea…’ she said crying. ‘Come on, it’s going to be all right. I’ll be back here on holidays and you’ll also come to Tokyo, right?’ I calmed her then we settled to meet the following day at the usual time in the park, so that we could go to school together. Even after I entered the university in Tokyo and Orie entered the local vocational school, our relationship continued. On Friday evenings I used to take the express at 21 o’clock and go to my home town, then, after spending two days together with Orie, on Sunday evenings I’d return with the high-speed train which left at 17.22, and my life continued following this pattern.

‘I don’t like Tokyo. It’s crowded and stinking, it doesn’t suit me.’ Under this pretext, Orie didn’t come, not even once, to visit the place where I lived alone.

While thinking about these things, I was staring at the picture displayed on my PC desk, a picture of the two of us together under the cherry tree in the park where we always used to meet, when suddenly the cell phone in my pocket started ringing. When I looked at the number on the display, I had the impression it will vanish in the next second – it was the number of “Aihara Orie”. I pushed the answer button in a rush and when I put the phone at my ear I heard Orie’s voice: ‘Hello, it’s me. Could you tell?’

‘Yes’, I answered vaguely. Then Orie said in her usual tone: ‘We’re not together anymore but… Could we please see each other at least once a year on my birthday? In that park, you know…’

I was now expecting that line of hers: ‘What I said today, did you really take it seriously? It was joke, a joke, today’s April Fool’s Day, isn’t it? You’re always taking it so seriously.’

However, at her totally unexpected words, discouragement and anger mixed within me, giving birth to an odd feeling, so I sighed and said feebly: ‘What for? We’re not together anymore, so there’s no point in seeing each other anymore, right?’

‘Well, wouldn’t it be lovely for us to see each other once a year, just like the Weaver Princess and the Herder in the Tanabata story? After all, I’m Orie and you’re Fumihiko*…’

I sighed once again: ‘Oh, give me a break! You’re talking nonsense as usual and keep playing with other people’s feelings!’ I really wanted it to sound angry, but it ended up sounding like emotional fatigue, when you only get the power to say “Whatever…Do whatever you want, I don’t care...”

‘All right’, she said. ‘Then, next year on the same day in the same place, ok?’ After saying just that, she hung up. I was now listening to the empty tone, then, staring exhausted at the cell phone, I sighed once again.

The first month after we broke up, I wanted to call Orie many times over but, having been rejected by her, I didn’t have the courage to call her now, and whatever I was doing, I was looking at the sky, thinking only about the true meaning of her words. However, while fooling around with my friends at the university, I buried the memories about what Orie had said and everything about Orie as beautiful memories in a hidden corner of my mind, but every time I opened the memory of the cell phone, there was still the name of “Aihara Orie” registered there in red… Somehow or the other, these moments were so painful…

During the time when I was already in the second year, while I was spending my time as usual on the internet, the phone rang and the letters in “Aihara Orie”’s name were floating on the liquid crystal display. I put the phone at my ear and:

“It’s me. Could you tell?’ said the one calling. The voice I had missed so much, but still remembered, was Orie’s.

‘Are you doing all right? How are things going at the university? You’re not skipping classes and just fooling around, are you? You should study properly, you know’, she was talking on and on, saying all this in one breath, and I didn’t know what question to answer first, so I just said: ‘Yeah.’

‘You remember our promise? About tomorrow? You forgot all about it, isn’t it?’

At this, in a rush I turned the pages of my calendar which had come to a halt since last October. ‘Oh, yes. Right. Of course I remember. Because I’m coming there tomorrow.’ I said. At this Orie said only: “Ok, then. See you tomorrow’ and hung up the phone in her usual way. When I tried to redial, I could only hear the message of the answering machine. So I said to myself “Man, she really didn’t change at all…” Then, while remembering Orie’s face, which I was already starting to forget, I checked the schedule of the train departures, and, without even realizing it, I was smiling.

The following day I tried some more times to call her but, because I ended up hearing the answering machine every time, I was nearly desperate. “Why is there no connection? Maybe she turned it off. I’ll try asking her when we actually meet.” We hadn’t even agreed on the time of our meeting, so, wearing only the clothes I happened to have on, I took the train at noon, and the moment I got to my hometown, I turned directly to the park. There was no particular change to the town that I hadn’t seen for almost a year but the students wearing the uniform of my high school that sometimes passed me by, somehow or the other, seemed very childish to me, so while thinking strangely about this impression, I continued walking and reached the park in about 10 minutes.

‘Was it always so close?’ I asked myself and sat on a bench near the sand pit, when suddenly my field of vision turned completely dark.

‘Who’s that?’

I seized the hands which obstructed my eyes from seeing and when I turned back, there was the face that I had missed so much.

Orie sat next to me on the bench. ‘It’s been a long time. Have you been well?’ she said, smiling with her whole face, but, since the last time I had seen it, that face looked very thin.

‘Yeah. I’m doing fine. As for you, you’ve become thinner…’

‘Really? I’m so glad’ she said, clapping her hands joyfully, so I followed: ‘How did you do it? You’ve been on a diet or something? Indeed. You really lost weight. But apart from that, you haven’t changed a bit…’ At my last remark, she swelled her cheeks.

‘Because we see each other in such a long time, how about we go to eat something?’ I said while standing up.

‘No. I’m sorry I called you, because I don’t really have time. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me…’

As she said this, I went like: “Are you serious? But why? ...And to think I came here at great pains. How much time do you actually have?’ I asked. ‘Well, about 30 minutes’, she said while looking at the watch on her left hand. I dropped my shoulders in regret, but because she was apologizing too deeply, I said jokingly: ‘Well, we can do nothing about it. Then shall we talk (about old times) here?’

‘Yes!’ she said smiling again.

“Oh, man… I’m really no match for her”, I said to myself. While looking back at the memories of the days we had spent together, we laughed for a while, then I went back to the train station, and being swayed by train as I traveled alone, I was watching the landscape of my hometown that I was being leaving behind, when suddenly I remembered: ‘Ah, I forgot to ask about the phone…’ I got out on the deck and tried once again to call, but, as expected, there was no connection: ‘Hm… suspended again’, I thought, so I took out from my bag the book I had started to read, and somehow or the other, while chasing the characters on the page with my eyes, I was really worried about Orie, and I couldn’t restrain a bitter smile.

Back to my apartment, I tried afterwards countless times to call but in the end I wasn’t able to reach her. Having spent such an “April Fool’s Day”, in order for me not to forget about it next time, I turned the pages of the brand new calendar I had bought on the way and marked the 1st of April, then I rearranged the photograph stand that was laying upside down and, while staring at the picture of the two of us, before I knew it, I fell asleep.

Another year passed without any news from Orie. The environment around me being the same as ever, my days were ordinary but, by the time the cherry trees began to bloom, I found myself waiting in my heart for a call from her.

‘It should come about today…’, I said to myself poking the 31st on the calendar, when the cell phone actually did ring with the name of Aihara Orie shining on the display.

‘It’s me. Could you tell?’, said Orie in the same manner that I had heard before.

‘I know. It’s tomorrow, right?’

At my anticipation, Orie replied: ‘That’s right! You remembered well. That’s great!’, just like a child would have said it.

‘Well, after all it is an event that happens once a year. Now, really, is it because you think it’s convenient for me? If you want us to meet, you could also come here, you know.’ At my cynical remark, she said: ‘No, I couldn’t, after all it’s my birthday, right? Oh, speaking of it, I never received a birthday present from you. That’s why, we’ll exchange presents. Let’s make it small, inexpensive gifts, ok? Therefore, stop complaining and come here. Ok?’

With this she touched a painful spot there, so I said just: ‘Ok, ok. I got it, so I’m on my way. After all, I was just thinking about visiting my hometown after such a long time, but more important than that, will you have time tomorrow? Because last year I went there to stay only for about two hours; but tomorrow it’s all right, isn’t it?’

At my question, Orie replied: ‘I’m sorry…Tomorrow again I won’t have much time… But, please come. For us to see each other and talk. Ok?’

When I heard this, anger raised in me suddenly: ‘What’s this? I’m not your servant, you know! You’re always doing things your way, even with the phone. Every time I call I get the answering machine, and you only call when it’s convenient for you, now really, give me a break! Because I’m not coming! Got it?’ With this, all the thoughts that had gathered in me from the beginning came to the surface. For a while there was silence, but then: ‘You’re right… I’m really sorry…’ That’s all she said, then she simply hung up as usual, but I was still so agitated that I threw the photograph stand at the wall and even threw the calendar in the trash, then just stayed in bed out of spite.

The following day, I didn’t go to my hometown in the end. As there was no other call from Orie, I didn’t call her either. ‘Maybe I said too much…’ This thought also crossed my mind but, thinking about it rationally, we weren’t together anymore and, by dragging along the memories of old times, there was no way we could start all over again from scratch. ‘Taking this opportunity, maybe I should change my phone number…’, so I went to the cell phone shop in the neighborhood and asked for a new number.

Of course, I couldn’t be contacted by Orie anymore and, in order to meet new people, I took part in joint parties but, when we went to karaoke there was this song about cherry flowers and, without realizing it, I remembered Orie, so I could no longer have fun and ended up being considered “melancholic”; when I realized it, I was left all alone.

Even if I changed my phone number, I was disconcerted that I myself hadn’t changed at all; gloomy as I was, I lived gloomy days, and after a while I graduated from the university, but as there was no way any company would hire such a gloomy guy, I ended up returning to my hometown in order to look for a job at the local smaller companies.

The day I was moving out, while staring at the room filled with cardboard, although it had always felt too narrow, it seemed now really wide. Because of the cigarette smoke the color of the ceiling was altered here and there. “Will I have enough money to repair this?” I thought and, as I was checking it, I found a small dent in the wall. After thinking about it for a while, I remembered it all of a sudden. ‘That’s right… from that time…’

It was the scratch from the night when Orie had called, when, driven away by anger, I threw the photograph stand at the wall. That moment, when memories that I thought I had completely forgotten were brought back to life, the cell phone that was lying on top of the cardboard hill started ringing. I picked it up simply. “Hello?” And from the other end I heard a voice saying: ‘It’s me, could you tell?’

Realizing in an instant whose voice it was, I asked: ‘How come you know this number?’

‘Ah, it doesn’t matter. Are we seeing each other tomorrow? I want to see you one last time. Is it all right?’ she said in her usual tone. I started looking around the room for the calendar but when I realized it was already at the bottom of one of the cardboard boxes, I just asked: ‘Could it be that today…?’

‘That’s right. It’s March 31st. And tomorrow is the 1st of April. My birthday!’

I couldn’t understand what was happening and I just stood without saying a word.

‘It will really be the last time. Because we won’t be able to see each other again, I want to see you for one last time. It will be the last birthday present for me. Ok?’ as she said this, her image was floating before me in vague contours, with her hands joined together, watching me intently with upturned eyes.

‘We won’t be able to see each other anymore… Are you leaving the country or something?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Something like that. Then, see you tomorrow in the park. Don’t fail to come, ok?’

Before I got the chance to say “Wait a minute…” she had already hung up.

‘This girl… Even though it’s already late…’

At that moment I was surrounded by a feeling of uneasiness that I had never felt before.

Just as I had done two years earlier, I took the train at midday and when I arrived at the station in my hometown I went straight to that park. The place I hadn’t visited in some years looked the same as always, but for some reason all the high school students that passed by seemed to be more grown up than me.

When I reached the park I sat on the bench and suddenly everything went dark before my eyes; at the same time I felt the familiar perfume that I had missed so much. I seized those hands quickly and turned right away. And there was Orie’s figure standing, looking exactly as she did when I had seen her two years before.

‘What’s it? You were about to say “who’s that?”’ she said swelling her cheeks and taking a seat next to me. I immediately asked:

‘So? What’s it all about? Where are you going?’

At this, Orie stood up gently. ‘You see… I wanted to be always together with you.’ She started saying such things whose meaning I couldn’t understand.

‘But you were the one who said we should break up, isn’t that right?’

‘That’s right. But I actually wanted to be with you. It’s true.’

‘Then… why?’ I asked.

‘I regretted it but… We simply had to break up. It was that kind of fate. I… ever since I was little, my heart has been weak and, maybe you remember, I often failed to come to school. It’s because I went to the hospital every time. And to think how I hated those examinations…’

At her words, I said: ‘This story…it’s a joke on Fool’s Day, right?’

She glared at me with sad eyes for a moment.

‘It’s true. I also wanted really bad to go to Tokyo where you were…But I couldn’t get permission to do that… If I had spasms while being with you, that would have meant trouble for you too and…’

By her look I realized it was all true.

‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier about something that important??’ I couldn’t help raising my voice as I stood up.

‘Please don’t be upset… If I had told you about this, you wouldn’t have agreed for us to go anywhere together, right? In front of you I wanted to be a girl like every other…’

I got angry at myself. We were together for such a long time and… I never realized she was ill…

‘It’s not your fault. I’m the only one to blame. Because I knew it all along…that my life would last only some more years. For this reason, it isn’t true that I entered the vocational school after graduation. The first year I used to commute from home to the hospital, but afterwards… I’ve been staying in the hospital all along.’

‘You… then… that time too…’

‘Yes. I begged the doctor and received permission to go out for only one hour’

‘But… How? Since we never settled the time of our meeting…’

‘Oh, that’s simple. From my room I can see the train station. That’s why I was always waiting to see you coming down the stairs of the station.’

‘I see… then the fact that I could never reach by telephone was also…’

‘Yes. It’s because phones are not allowed in the hospital.’

I couldn’t stand it anymore; my eyes were full of tears that I could no longer hold back.

‘You… you should return to the hospital. Come on, I’ll take you there. Let’s go back quickly.’

As I was saying this I got near her but she turned her right hand towards me.

‘No. It’s ok. It’s all right now’ she said shaking her head.

‘WHAT is all right? It’s NOT all right!!’ I told her in a screaming voice. At this she said:

‘I told you it would be the last time, right? This is really the last time… I’m so happy I have met you. I did nothing but to upset you all the time… I’m really sorry. We were able to go together to the amusement park and also to the zoo; it’s a pity that we won’t be able to see each other anymore but… I have memories for a lifetime from you. And we have nothing to regret, right? So, please don’t cry.’

‘The last time… It’s not the last time. We can still go to those places. I’ll take you there. It’s a promise! Ok? So please don’t say such things, Orie… ok?

I spread my arms trying to embrace her. However Orie’s body slipped through my arms and because of the tears everything around dissolved like mist.

‘Why?...’

I raised my eyes at her.

‘Thank you from all my heart. I’ll never forget about this, about you, Fumihiko, our memories together. I love you… Fumihiko… good bye…’

Orie vanished. Just like the petals of cherry blossoms scattered by the wind, Orie simply vanished…

I ran as fast as I could and asked about Orie’s room at the information desk in the hospital, then, not being able to stand waiting for the elevator, I climbed the stairs, and when I found the name of Aihara Orie hanging on one of the doors, I opened it recklessly.

With a delicate smile floating on her face, just as if she were sleeping, Orie had died…

A year passed since then. I never told anyone about the strange encounter with Orie. It’s not that I feared they wouldn’t believe me, it’s only that I wanted to keep this memory as mine only, mine and Orie’s. In the end only this mystery remained to last forever.

‘How did she find out about my new phone number?’ I even asked my parents but nobody was able to tell me… Anyway… this is probably the one and only mystery… I’m sure it must have been the present that God gave Orie for her birthday.

‘The miracle on Fool’s Day…’ I whisper to myself. And then:

‘I beg you, let it happen one more time!’ I was praying, not knowing where God could ever be.

I am now walking alone towards that park along the riverside, on the way that I’m already accustomed to.

(end)

* The names of the main characters of this story (Orie and Fumihiko) correspond to the names of the characters in the Tanabata legend – the Weaver Princess (Orihime) and the Herder (Hikoboshi) – who are said to meet once a year on the 7th of July.

Sacra Story 6th

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama

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~6th story~ A short story of mine – then again, a reflection of my state of mind

Fifty years from now, I’ll also be an old man. Oh, but we don’t know yet, right? Perhaps, it still won’t be like in the world of Galaxy Express 999, where you go like ‘Give me a mechanized body!’ Anyway you put it…I myself, machine or not, will be rather weird*.

By no means, more important than that is…what will I be doing in order to win my bread?

At the moment, I’m singing, dancing and writing articles, but, fifty years from now it’s obvious that I won’t be doing the same things. The late artist Tarô Okamoto said once: “Art is explosion!”, but actually you explode before getting to accomplish art; that’s also true…

All in all, there are too many things that I have to do, and, well, while I’m thinking about where to start from, I end up reaching out to the knob of the beer can.

Right. Because I need a short break, I’m seeing myself playing with my children, but it’s not like I could skip such a time in my life… Ah, where’s my dignity as a father? I ask myself in discouragement, but, that’s it! A walk! I should go for a walk! But even when I try to step out, the sunlight is hurting me… I don’t like sunlight… I was saying that in some interview too, and it’s true, because first of all my eyes hurt. Then my skin hurts. And to make matters worse, I have a headache. Under the circumstances, I give up going for a walk.

In the end, confined in my room, I’ll be reading a book or something, so absolutely nothing is changed.

Wrong! What was it now?... Right, fifty years from now!

…In any case, I’m full of anxiety. The development of computer technology in nowadays’ society has striking things about it, and, if even now you can download almost anything, so that CD’s won’t sell anymore, then in fifty years there won’t even be such things as CD’s anymore; moreover, because computers will make songs for us by themselves, won’t we come to a world in which there won’t be a need for musicians? When I try looking at the display of my Mac, it pops out - “The newest technology! It’s come even to this! Artificial intelligence!” and if it’s possible to “raise children without parents”, then we’ll be “publishing books without writers”- (the association may be a bit far-fetched here…)

If such things will come to be… Oh, I’m haunted by such needless worries, that this time my stomach is aching. (Ha-ha, my whole body is letting me down.)

I couldn't say such things as “If everything’s ok now, then it’s perfect!” just like an old fashioned rocker. To say something like that full of self confidence is really unreasonable. (“unreasonable” to be read “ecstasy”!)

But then again, I really don’t think that I’m absolutely not rocker-like. Right.

A few days ago an older colleague of mine had a discussion about rock with someone and, being nearby, I heard his words. ‘Rock is not about living while doing as you please, it’s about enforcing your own lifestyle; for this reason, more important than sacrificing people and things around you in order for you to be at your best is to keep protecting the things that you have to protect. That is what rock is all about!’ he declared and added: ‘My father is a simple salary man but he brought up our family and raised me until now. A person like my father is a hundred times closer to “rock” than the fellows rocking around all day.’

It can’t be… I’ll probably never forget those words. For a moment my colleague looked like a god.

I also hold this way of thinking and, often, when watching movies about heroes, I think ‘But but but…I… I have nothing to protect.... And there aren’t any dangerous things around anyway…’ I enrage myself thinking like that, and then go: Where do you think this is anyway? Isn’t it Japan? Isn’t it a constitutional state? We are all being protected by something somewhere, because if it weren’t so, we would have been all dead long ago. Anyway, that’s what I always thought society is about… (the fact that I was taught in a northern region should be blamed for this)

That’s why this pain in my stomach must be the pain of the weight of the things that I have to protect now; while thinking about this, I take a pill for my stomach ache and try to do my best. I don’t particularly wish for things like world peace, nor think outrageous things like “I…will save…this world!” (said in tone just like when you make a marriage proposal for the 101st time).

Somehow or the other, while taking care precisely of the things I love, of the people I love, of the important things that are close to me, and while doing what I enjoy, in fifty years I want to become a good natured seventy years old man. That’s why, if there won’t be any CD’s anymore or if the writer profession disappears, I’ll be in trouble. Because, first of all, what am I supposed to do?…When I’m now in the situation that the band members, the manager, and all my colleagues complain altogether, telling me: “Write those stories faster!”

I’m writing, I’m writing. Like this, right? Well, speaking of a story told in first person, when you, the readers, get to see how many “…” appear in this text, I think you’ll be able to guess my state of mind.

Fifty years from now… various things will be eroded by various countries, but I’m here right now, praying ardently for only one thing:

‘Please leave behind at least the cherry trees…’

Sacra Story 5th

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama


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~5th story~ No name

This must be something that anybody thinks of at least once…

‘I want to go back to those days…’

(This is also the name of a song, isn’t it?)

Maybe I’m in such a mood because I’m looking through the album with pictures from the time that I graduated from high school. As I turn the thick pages full of memories, the shape of my mouth loosens into a smile – from outside, this guy looks dangerous… for some reason I was looking at myself objectively like that, while various memories were brought to life one after another, and all of a sudden I couldn’t help myself breaking into laughter.

Of course, my memories were all about those guys.

‘We were so stupid back then…’ While I was talking to myself like that, I smiled faintly and sighed.

When I say “those guys” I mean the friends with whom I spent the three years at the height of my teenage. Ike, Kattsu, Ryô. I was in the same class with these three, we had different kinds of hobbies, but for some reason we got along well and right after entering high school we became companions.

Ike was the typical delinquent; at the same time he had this face that looked like a bird’s nest that you don’t get to see very often, and, honestly put, he had that looks that says ‘No way we’re walking together’… However, although you couldn’t say from his appearance, he used to skip classes, but when it came to tests or during the lessons, he used to show the “top of the class”, some kind of genius side of his.

‘You probably study really hard at home, don’t you?’ when he was teased like that, he’d say ‘Don’t be ridiculous’, then his face would turn all red and he’d really get angry.

‘Why are you getting mad after all? Then, it must be an accident?’ And so on, everybody would make fun of him.

Kattsu played basketball until middle school, he even got to be chosen as best player of our prefecture, but when entering high school, he suddenly quit.

‘Neah, things like sports are OK when you’re a small boy. And I hate sweating, so…’ Using such reasons that made no sense, he even refused older students who invited him to their team, but because he used to run after the ball dripping with sweat during physical education classes, probably everybody thought to themselves ‘Oh, man, he really sweats a lot…’

Ryô was, generally speaking, a great fan of fashionable things, a guy with no limits. He was so absorbed in reading fashion magazines that almost anybody would have thought ‘Wow, if he studied just as much…’

‘These clothes are now the coolest!’ He would boast like that showing us the items that he was the first to buy, but even when he was slurping râmen in the “Sukiya” from underground the Daiei building, he used to ignore everybody.

To summarize, we were a bunch of idiots.

As for the extent of our foolishness, it was extreme. Any how, even if we were students, during the three years of high school we never bought textbooks.

Oh, was I the only one?... Well, much the same.

It’s not that our families were poor; we did receive money from our parents for textbooks and pocket money, but, before you even knew it, it turned into money for fun stuff like ‘game centers’, ‘karaoke’, ‘bowling’ and so on.

However, we never got in trouble. Because, well, if we didn’t show up at all at classes, we wouldn’t have been allowed to enter the next grade, and, when it came to crucial moments, we would borrow the textbooks from the guys in the other classes.

When I think of it now, I can say only ‘How foolish we were…’ and it’s almost as if I would scold the young me, but… in those times we never thought about the future.

‘Because you won’t live the days of youth a second time, you should enjoy the present moment with all your might!’ With this motto we used to idle around at home, idle in the park, idle at school. In any case we were living a life of idleness.

Speaking of our gathering spot, it was the room of the light music club. It’s not that we could actually play guitar or drums or anything, but right after entering high school, our homeroom teacher said in a prolonged voice: ‘You’ll have to do at least one extracurricular activity. That’s the rule, you know…’ And somehow the four of us wrote our names on the registration for joining the music club. The reason was simple – the club room was “the farthest away from the staff room”. Because all we cared about was not to be found by the teachers, we thought this place was perfect. It was an easy-going idea but, as we had expected, there really wasn’t any place cozier than this. The four of us usually watched TV in that room or played games or smoked. When there were no musical instruments around there, it turned into some kind of “my room”.

One day we reached a great crisis when the life of idleness that we were living took a sudden turn. We were watching TV as usual in the room, when Sugis***a,

the head of the club, showed up and said:

‘What? You guys again? By the way, what song are you playing at the next school festival?’

‘What’s he talking about?’ I wondered and when I exchanged looks with other three, Ike and Kattsu blinked their eyes and had a reaction like ‘Huh? What’s that?’, while Ryô went on reading his fashion magazine.

‘The four of you are playing together? Right, Ryô?’ When Sugis***a called his name, Ryô took notice of the commotion and answered: ‘Huh? Oh, that’s right.’

‘Well, whatever. There’s not much time left, so you should actually practice, you know.’

That’s all he said, then changed into his uniform, wiped his mouth with his hand and went out in a rush closing the door after him.

‘Hey, what did he mean by that?’ At Ike’s question, Ryô replied: ‘Well, I’ve had this girlfriend lately, right? That’s why…’

‘That’s why, what?’

‘That’s why…I thought it were cool to tell her that I’d play in a band at the school festival.’

‘Huh??? So?’

‘So… Let’s do it, the four of us!’

After one moment of silence:

‘Are you nuts??? It’s not that we CAN do this, is it? None of us can play any instruments, we don’t even have them! I’m not doing this, no way’ said Ike, then Kattsu gave the final blow: ‘That’s right. And how about going on the stage without playing any instruments? Are we supposed to do gospel? Because, well, you can’t do it alone, right? Hahaha.’

At this I said: ‘No way, no way. Nooo waaay. How about doing karaoke by yourself?’

Thereupon, Ryô replied: ‘Actually… I already wrote your names on the list of performers, see…’

Now, needless to say, the three of us ganged up on Ryô and beat him up.

That day after school, although unwillingly, still together in a band, we gathered again in the club room because we didn’t even know where to start and, for the time being, we had to decide upon the roles, so, after exchanging arguments that it should be like this or like that, for the reason that it didn’t cost anything if we used the drum set in the club room, Ike would play the drums. On the pretext that he didn’t want to stand out too much, Kattsu would take the bass. As for me, because I had this electric guitar that my father used to play once, I would play guitar. Ryô was the only one who went: ‘Yes. Yes. I’ll take the vocals, ok? After all, I really stand out. And I’m good enough at singing, too, you know.’ He was raising his hand, full of willingness to announce his candidacy.

After we had established the parts, we reached the point when we had to decide upon the song that we were going to perform, so we mentioned the names of several bands that we knew, but we had no idea which one was easy to do; that’s when Kattsu showed us a band score that had fallen in his hands and said: ‘These are good, don’t you think? It seems pretty easy, too.’ But the title was “Pop music to play on the piano” and we all thought ‘It’s not even a band…’, so we sighed deeply again and, in the end, we asked Sugis***a for advice. ‘Well…something like Mr.Children would be fine, right? I mean, everybody knows them and they’re not very difficult, you know. And we definitely have their score in the club room. Anyway, there’s only one more month until the performance, so you should practice as much as possible. I’m off to the studio, so see ya.’ After saying this, just as if he were completely unconcerned (well, he actually was unconcerned after all…), put the nylon case with his guitar on his shoulder and left in high spirits.

We turned the shelves in the room upside down, looking for Mr.Children’s band score, while whispering “Mr.Children, Mr.Children, Mr.Children” all the time just like a strange incantation.

‘Aa, found it!’ The thing that Ryô was holding in his hands was the worn-out band score of Mr.Children. We picked the songs that we knew and somehow, on the criterion of “the slowest tempo”, we decided to perform the song “Tomorrow never knows”.

First of all, each of us took a copy of the score and, after it was decided that for a week we should practice individually, we went to our homes slightly depressed (except for Ryô, who had a smiling face), but, on that occasion, the anger on Ryô, who was thoroughly half optimistic, half irresponsible, with his all-fallen-in-love face, welled up once again. ‘We should really hit him again…’ we all thought, regretting that we didn’t.

The following week the four of us tried for the first time to synchronize the sounds but it was too early for it to sound like music, it was more like something far beyond the most annoying sound on earth, and it so happened that the advisor teacher, who never stepped in that room, came to us yelling:

‘Do that somewhere else!!’

‘All present!’ we jumped but, to ourselves: ‘Huh? Isn’t this the purpose of this room?’ Words whose meaning we couldn’t grasp were pouring on us, a terrible end to our attempt, and shrugging our shoulders, we thought ‘We can’t do it this way…’ and because we had no choice, we proceeded to the studio that the older students were using in order to do our practicing. There: ‘You guys are messing up the rhythm.’

‘What?? You guys for sure can’t even play instruments!’

In every practice spot we went to, we were spoken ill of, to the point it developed into something like “the great rally of harsh words”, so in the end Ryô said something like: ‘I…should maybe do karaoke…’, burdened by everybody’s anger towards him.

‘Well, isn’t it mainly your fault that it’s come to this?’

‘That’s right…We’re doing it for your sake.’

‘You and your damn clothes!’

We were even making him reproaches that had the least to do with the band,

that’s why Ryô was this time completely miserable and said almost crying:

‘Come on, it’s going to be OK, one way or another.’

‘That’s right. Let’s do our best!’

‘Your clothes are the coolest!’

We cheered up, though we still didn’t know what it would become of us. Then Ryô went again: ‘Lately…I’m not getting along so well with her, see.’ He was complaining about the state of affairs with his girlfriend. As a result, the studio where we were supposed to be practicing was turned really fast into “consultation room for love situations’ for Ryô. (Yup! We were complete idiots!)

Nonetheless the day of the festival was getting closer moment by moment… We were really in trouble, so, abiding our shame, we clung to the older students and, three days before the festival, we did some progress in that our song was, well, in a state that could be listened to.

On the day of the festival it had been decided that we should perform first. It was Sugis***a, the head of the club, who decided the order. ‘It’ll probably be easier for you if there aren’t many people in the audience’, he told us; in conclusion, it was obvious that the directions were nothing but his unspoken demand to “finish quickly and spare us from too much shame”.

We were all thinking ‘Damn it! We’re going to make fools of ourselves and we’re even going to show you!’, but at the same time we thought ‘Ah, thank you. We appreciate it’, because we really were pitiable.

The four of us gathered in the room in the morning and practiced for the last time.

We were entering the stage soon, when Ike asked:

‘By the way, the name of our band isn’t decided yet, is it?’

This obvious matter had slipped everybody’s mind.

‘Ah, right. We never thought about it’ said Kattsu.

And then, feeling the signs of the usual foolish atmosphere around us streaming away,

I said: ‘Ah, then, then, how’s this? There’s no band with such a name, so “No Name”.’

It was the first thing that crossed my mind, but surprisingly everybody said: ‘That’s pretty cool. No Name.’

‘Yeah, I think so too.’

‘Ok, then we’re “No Name”.’

So, without a hitch, the name of our band was decided. By the time we were roused like that, we heard the voice of our club leader: ‘You’re on, guys.’

The result was as follows: in the audience there were four people, our performance lasted almost five minutes (this included Ryô’s lousy MC) and, because of the nervousness, I put too much effort into it, so two strings of my guitar ended up broken. Because of the same nervousness, Kattsu dropped three picks. And when one of Ike’s sticks slipped because of the sweat, in the blink of an eye, this put an end to our terrible first live, together with the sparse round of applause. However, having tasted the excitement of going on the stage, the exhilaration and the feeling of achievement, our foolish band “No Name” took part in the next year’s festival, too, then also in the next, so, when I look back, we spent three years doing nothing but the band.

After the last performance of our high school life, the four of us thought: ‘Let’s mark something with the name of our band.’ We carved “No Name” on the trunk of the cherry tree that was right in front of the school’s main entrance, and then took pictures there.

Afterwards we took different paths in life; however, for better or for worse, it was undoubtedly true that we had spent “days of youth that we’ll never live again”, that’s why even now I love to recall occasionally the memories of that time which are printed in my heart.

It occurs to me only now but I think the name of our band – No Name – was a pretty accurate expression of the time of our youth. It’s hard to put in words or to find a name for what you feel when you are young. Immature and smelling of sweat, but somehow because of that, a time like a gust of wind doesn’t need such a thing as a name.

Right because of that, so that the heart should never forget, it comes unexpectedly to your mind.

Even now the time of our youth may still be engraved as “No Name” on that cherry tree as a memory for eternity.

While thinking about these things, I reach out to the phone and dial the numbers that I miss so much.

(end)

Sacra Story 4th

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama

=====================================================

~4th Story~ The mystery of the cherry tree

I hate cherry trees…

That color of the flower petals which seem to have sucked blood, that rugged bark which makes you think of the corpse of a man who died of starvation. And above all, in the shade of that trunk, it’s waiting for it even now. For a new sacrifice…

Why would grown-ups hold parties around that thing? I cannot understand. Ah…It’s so annoying even to remember about that. Even if so many years have passed since, and I’m reaching my end, I cannot push that incident away from my memories.

It was the spring when I had entered middle school. On my way home I was passing as usual by a row of cherry trees along the river together with my school friend K, when we saw one cherry tree we had never noticed before, which made no flowers bloom and seemed to be rotten.

We stopped in front of that tree. ‘Oh, this tree’s already dead. It’d be good if they cut it soon’ said K and kicked the tree. I said nothing and was just watching but K went again ‘Ugh!’ and plucked a twig of that cherry tree; of course I thought that would be bad, so I said ‘Let’s just go’, urging K who was holding the broken twig in his hand to get out of that row of trees. At the crossroads in front of the bookstore we said ‘Bye. See you tomorrow’ and were parting until next morning but I was left with a feeling of guilt so I turned around to tell K: ‘You’d better throw that away’, but ended up doubting my own eyes. The twig that K was carrying looked like a dried up human arm. ‘Ah!’ Though it leaked in a low voice, K must have heard me.

‘What?’ and turned toward me. What K was holding was beyond any doubt the twig broken earlier.

The following day K didn’t come to school.

I asked the teacher:

‘Is there something with K?’

The teacher answered:

‘Yes. Actually…we received a call from his mother. He’s been missing since yesterday evening. You were together on your way home yesterday, right? Do you know anything about it?’

‘I…I don’t know anything.’

At my answer, the teacher said ‘I see. Well, if you happen to recall anything, tell me’, then left briskly. I was troubled all day by it – to tell the teacher or not, about that cherry tree, but in the end: ‘What if he gets angry at me too?’ At this thought, I said nothing and let the things as they were, waiting for that school day to end.

For some reason or another with dark feelings I went home on the way which went behind the school building, but, when I came near that row of cherry trees, I stood in astonishment. Huh?! When I passed by it in the morning that cherry tree had been as before, withered and rotten, but during only a few hours had made flowers bloom.

‘How can this be…?’

I was terrified so I went home as fast as I could, confined myself in my room and covered myself in bed, shivering with fear. Not even at dinner time did I come down, so mother got worried and came to call me, but I refused: ‘I feel bad so I don’t want to eat.’ I was so afraid that I couldn’t even sleep. I only waited for morning to come.

The following day I was on my way to school with a heavy heart, but because I didn’t want to pass by that row of trees, I chose to take a roundabout way. Thinking only about that cherry tree, I was feeling really bad, therefore during the break I went to the school infirmary; there I found my classmate T and, against my better judgment, I told him about the tree.

‘Really?! I wanna see that tree.’

It raised his interest so we went together after school to see it.

‘This one?’ asked T after looking from all sides at the row of trees, while kicking that cherry tree the same way as K had done.

‘H-hey!’ I stopped him in haste, but he said:

‘It’s OK. It’s no problem. Look! I’ll even do this.’ And just broke a twig of that tree.

This was too much for me so I left him behind and went home, where I confined myself in my room again and spent a sleepless night, praying that T should come to school the next day.

Of course, T didn’t come to school. This time I was called by the teacher and asked to explain the circumstances, but I said nothing about the cherry tree or about T breaking a twig of it. I had decided in my heart: ‘I have no choice but to do something about it.’

When I returned home, I took out a saw from the small storage room in the garden, then waited for my family to fall asleep deep in the night and sneaked away from the house.

The row of cherry trees looked totally different from during the day. It was so eerie that my feet were cramped, but gathering my courage, I walked to that cherry tree and cut it from the root overnight. When I put the saw to the trunk, I expected that something should appear, but contrary to my feeling, nothing happened, and all that was left afterwards was the huge cherry tree lying on the ground and the chip of wood.

After that, I don’t know what happened to K or to T or to that tree…

I’m now writing this story lying on my bed in the hospital.

(end)

Sacra Story 3rd

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama

====================================================

~3rd story~ One petal

Once upon a time in a certain place, a young man, who had lost his parents as a child, was living in a lonely place at the foot of a mountain.

The village was far away and socializing was not the young man’s strong point, so he was living a humble self-sustaining life; still he was a gentle hearted man working all day on his field, and if there was something that he needed, he would descend to the village to exchange things and supply himself, so he was satisfied with his daily life.

Speaking of the young man’s daily routine, on his way to the village there was a great cherry tree at whose roots there was an old looking shrine with a holy Jizô inside; he would leave a small offering here every day. As he had no parents, no children, not even friends, he used to forget about the loneliness of his days by speaking from the depth of his heart to the holy Jizô who would never answer.

One day the young man saw that food became scarce so he had to go to the village to do exchange; he took on his back some vegetables that he had grown on his own field and took the usual hill road, when he found the holy Jizô had tumbled down out of the shrine and collapsed to the ground. In the shrine there were traces of the offerings which had been eaten untidily, so it seemed that a traveler who happened to pass by had removed the holy Jizô, praying to be allowed to spend the night in the shrine in order to avoid rain and dew.

‘Now really… what a thing to do…’

Amazed to see this, the young man put his luggage down straightaway, he lift the holy Jizô from the ground and put it in its place, then cleaned the mud from its face.

‘What? Even his bib is missing…’

He looked around and saw the bib muddled and hanging from the branches of the tree. Although he tried to reach it, it was not a thing that could fit the holy Jizô anymore. He didn’t know what to do, so:

‘It’s so frail…It can’t be helped, so please forgive me for giving you this…’

The young man took off the towel that he was wearing and wound it around the holy Jizô’s neck.

‘It’s not beautiful but it’s surely better than that.’

After saying this, he took his burden again and went down to the village.

That night, when he was lying exhausted in bed, someone came to the young man’s house to visit.

“Knock, knock…knock, knock, knock…”

‘Who could this be… in the middle of the night…’

Besides the fact that usually nobody came to visit, now it was happening in the middle of the night. He took the hoe that stood hanging on the wall, then approached timidly and opened the lock at the entrance. When he opened the door, he was so astonished that he dropped the hoe from his hands.

There was a beautiful, well dressed girl, standing all alone, gazing at him.

‘Please forgive me for calling on you so late at night…Actually, I went looking for my mother, whom I’ve been separated with in childhood, but I got lost; in addition to this the sun has set. I was ready to sleep in the field, but because I happened to see light coming from this house, I just came here. You must be in doubt, but could you please let me stay in for the night?’

The young man who only stood in astonishment at first, at hearing the girl’s story he felt sorry for her, so he kindly offered her shelter.

‘I have nothing, but please feel at ease.’

He gave the girl the futon in which he always slept, while he himself spend the rest of the night crouched in a corner on the floor.

In the morning the young man was woken for the first time in many years by the smell of warm miso soup.

‘Please forgive me for coming into the kitchen without asking. I hope you’ll like this…’

The girl gave him the miso soup that she had just prepared.

‘No, no, don’t worry. I’m the one who should be apologizing for having nothing to eat…’

After taking a sip of miso soup he asked the the girl:

‘You said you were looking for your mother, but do you have any clues?’

At this question, the girl’s face clouded up and she answered:

‘Actually I only heard that she was supposed to be living somewhere but I have no idea as to where might that place be, so I have only been asking around…’

‘I see… That’s a real problem.’

The young man put together his hands and pondered, then made the girl this suggestion:

‘What do you say if we go down to the village once in a few days and ask the people around together? However you put it, it’s dangerous for a girl to be traveling alone, so if it’s all right with you, you may stay here how long you want.’

At hearing this, her face that had been bent down lighted up and she thanked the young man many times over, then took some miso soup, too, and started sipping.

After some time the two fell in love with each other, so they spontaneously exchanged vows and became husband and wife. The girl was looking for her mother as always but, as she couldn’t find her, not even clues about her, both she and her husband eventually ran out of ideas. After exactly one year since the girl had come, the young man noticed something strange. For some mysterious reason, as it was already past spring, petals of cherry tree flowers came from somewhere fluttering about the house now and then.

‘How strange, isn’t it?’

It wasn’t such a big deal, so he didn’t pay special attention to this, but every time he found flower petals he stood wondering.

After that three more years passed. The girl seemed to have given up looking for her mother, as she wasn’t searching with much zeal anymore; they didn’t even descend together to the village so often anymore, but the two, even if they were poor, were living a happy life and never forgot to express their gratitude, so they used to go every single day to the holy Jizô to pray.

One day, when they went together as always to the place of the holy Jizô, they found a crowd there. The young man turned towards a man who was looking at the cherry tree and was grumbling something for himself and asked:

‘Is something happening? Why is everybody gathered here?’

The man answered:

‘Neah, it’s just that it’s been decided that we should cut this tree but it’s harder than we thought.’

The young man said to himself:

‘Such a splendid cherry tree…it’s a pity…’

The girl seemed to feel the same way. The two returned home with their heads bowed and a feeling of desolation.

That night, when the young man came to bed, the girl started talking quietly:

‘Darling, I have something to tell you.’

‘What is it? Tell me.’

‘Actually, I have to say goodbye.’

Hearing this terrible thing, the young man raised his body and turned towards her:

‘What? All of a sudden…Did something happen?’

At this the girl answered hiding her face full of tears:

‘I…I’ve been lying to you all the time. You may not believe it but I am the spirit of that cherry tree. I was always watching you coming to that Jizô shrine, but before I knew it, I fell in love with you because you were so kind; I knew from the beginning that my wish cannot come true, but I couldn’t put an end to my feelings, so I came to you. From the beginning…I knew it all along that it would come to this.’

As she was saying this, a faint light surrounded her body.

‘…Wait…I understand that you’re the spirit of the tree but…why do we have to part? No, I don’t want this. Tree spirit or anything, you are you. Please stay with me.’

The young man was crying aloud but the girl’s figure had already vanished; only a fluttering flower petal was left of her.

With that petal in his palm the young man stood sobbing and he could only hear the girl’s faint voice:

‘If only I could… I also wanted to be with you forever. However… This is fate. The time I’ve spent with you is so precious and nothing is going to change that. But from now on I’ll go on watching over you. Please, don’t forget about me. Before they cut down that cherry tree, take a twig from it and put it the house. That will remind you of me, so please take care of it. I will always be…by your side…’

The girl’s voice vanished completely;

only the man’s crying voice was still resounding.

Doing as he was told, he took a twig of the cherry tree and arranged it in a corner of the house.

Afterwards he never saw the girl again and never heard her voice, but during his whole life, no matter how seasons changed or how many years passed, the twig never withered and went on making beautiful flowers bloom.

(end)

*A Jizô is a boddhisatva, guardian of children and travelers.

Sacra Story 2nd

ALL CREDIT TO :
Content by: Isshi
translated by: ramsk
credit to : Mochi Sama

==========================================================

~2nd~ Running on three legs

I hated my father. Reticent, with no will to be successful, always smeared with oil… I was thinking from the bottom of my heart that all I didn’t want was to become such a father.

My family ran a small independent business – a bicycle shop, where father was always working with a sour look, from 10 A.M. to 7 P.M, repairing chains that had got out of place, mending holes in flat tires and the like. Because I hated to see the figure of such a father, when going to school and coming home, I used to avoid the main entrance which was also the entrance to the shop and was using the backdoor to get in and out, but even after graduating from high school and going to study at the university in Tokyo, then coming like that to work here, my feelings hadn’t changed.

I think I started hating my father during the time when I was in the lower grades in primary school. At my school on Children’s Day (5th of May) there was this “Carp streamer assembly”, a sort of athletic meet, but among the contests in which parents also took part there was the “Running on three legs” contest. In general children took part in this with their fathers, but because my father had had an accident a long time ago, his right leg had a disability, so I was running together with my mother.

This happened during primary school and I still can’t say whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

‘Why are you running with your mom?’

‘It’s just you running with your mom. Are you one with the Mother complex?’

Such questions came from my classmates who didn’t know about my father’s leg condition, but instead I began to bear a grudge against father for this and blamed him for everything. At this father would always keep silent and to me, who was very young, said only: ‘Even if you blame me, there’s nothing you can do about it.’ With this dilemma, the anger which I had nothing to turn towards could only turn into meanness.

As to why do I remember these things right now, I got a call from my mother two days ago in the evening, telling me something about father being hospitalized and asking whether I could come home soon. It seemed that my father with his disability at one leg, while returning from flower viewing with the neighborhood association, made some mistake and fell down hitting his head severely and now he was very worried because he had to spend some time in the hospital.

The unpleasant memories from my childhood rose in me all of a sudden, so I sighed and, while grumbling ‘oh, man!’, I dialed the number of the Tokyo Station and booked a ticket for the first Shinkansen train in the morning.

Picked up by mother at the station, I was now returning after a long time home, where it was gloomy as ever and smelling like oil. I went upstairs to the room where I had spent the first eighteen years of my life, and when I sat on the chair of my writing desk which was full of scratches, I noticed a photograph that I hadn’t seen before on the stand. I took it and was staring at it when mother came unnoticed and said: ‘That picture, you see, it’s there because your father said to put it there.’

That photo was of me during middle school, laughing and displaying a prize certificate that I had been awarded in a contest at prefecture level.

‘Why would he do that?’

I gave the picture to mother.

‘You see, your father was really happy. Well, he himself wasn’t able to run, right? That’s why he really loved to see you running’ she said leaning her chin on her right hand and raising the eyebrows.

‘Uhm, I see… So, how is father?’

When I asked about my father’s condition, mother sat down and answered with a somehow gloomy look:

‘It seems that the hit in the head is nothing serious, but he probably won’t be able to come home for some time…’

Hearing those words I turned the chair so I could face my mother and asked:

‘Why? Is there something else wrong?’

My mother’s look became even darker.

‘You see, it seems that your father has cancer…’ she said in a very low voice, while staring at the floor mat. ‘For a very long time the state of his health has been bad, but he never said anything about it and just endured it, right? Only that this time at the examination they found cancer… and it seems that he had been in pain all the time… Even the doctor said: “How could you just leave it until it got that way?” That’s why we asked you to come home…’

Mother’s confession was so sudden that in a single moment my head went blank and I was worried. Then she said: ‘Right now it can be cured somehow, but, you see, even after he leaves hospital, he will have to go there a few times a week… If this happens, could you continue the work at the shop? This is what worries him the most, so… would you take over the shop?’

At these totally unexpected words of mother’s, I only sunk into silence.

Mother stood up slowly and took that photograph in her hands.

‘It’s because he told me that I should never, for nothing in the world, tell you about it that I kept quiet all the tie but… your father’s leg is like that because he protected you…’ She was saying things with such obscure meaning.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked in a voice mixed with irritation.

‘You probably don’t remember because you were small, but you were playing in front of the house one day and, running after the ball, you jumped in the roadway right when a car was coming and it was on the point of running over you, but instead your father…’

As I listened to this, the memories inside my head about that moment were vaguely coming back to life. That event had been too much for me, who was very young at that time, so I have been keeping all about the accident unconsciously at the bottom of my memory. That’s right… Indeed, I was saved by father…

When I realized it, I was staring into emptiness and tears were flowing from my eyes.

‘That’s why it broke my heart when you were angry at father for not being able to run with you in the “three legs” contest… But for your father it must have been even more painful. He really wanted to run together with you…with his leg bound tightly to yours, he wanted to run…’

That’s all she said and, hiding her face with her hand, she went downstairs.

I looked at that picture for a while, but the scent of my mother’s specialty “mackerel boiled in miso” reached me, so I went downstairs at her in the kitchen and told her:

‘I… will take over the shop.’

Without turning to me, mother said only:

‘All right.’

Tomorrow I’ll go see father. And I’ll tell him this: ‘Father, from now on we’ll truly be together on three legs.’

I had the feeling that, thoughtless, the sound of my mother chopping vegetables got louder.

(end)