9.0: Shintakarajima

Tokyo is a metropolis—yet such was not the most original observation of the world’s largest city.

It does evoke a sense of scale when coming down from a trans-Pacific flight. I felt slightly cold from being in an Airbus for almost a day. It was a quiet, large plane with a big seat, but it was still quite tiring even if I was sedentary the whole time. By now, I had forgotten that as the plane descended, it was turning to slot itself into the approach path.

Looking out, that wonder of seeing the city never left. Yet such is speaking from a perspective of a privileged life. I was lucky, and cherished it more this time around. Even if the Skytree and the Tower were the only things I could make out on the horizon of lights, slowly being undone with their buildings slowly coming to view as the skies began to color with the long sunrise. Though I could only say as much, pardon the long prose, because it had been almost a year and two months since I had seen that view.

The airliner shook a bit as we touched down, and upon getting off, I thought that Haneda was a little colder than I remembered, walking to the baggage counter, eating a stale, half-cold bread in hand. It took me some time to truly wake up, having had the immigration officer repeat herself. I almost embarrassed myself by putting too little force on my large, single piece of luggage that I rented. Though the one I owned followed, half the weight of the first, soon after.

Pushing out from the carousel, my brain had already figured I was walking again and carried me onto the monorail platform. The sun was out now, with an interim breakfast, a warm curry pan, on one hand. The best part about coming home was not needing to line up where most visitors did, but on the other hand, I was home again, just not quite.

The monorail ride was quiet, leaning and falling asleep against the window. There was not much to be noted as we passed by and into Minato, as it bustled somewhat, though there was much to be said that I just hadn’t slept enough. Though yes, I did look forward to riding the Shinkansen home, I should remember it was a shorter, blue and white train. Perhaps the excitement of heading home spirited me away to its dark-colored, cushioned seat. I only gained some awareness back to buy myself a bento before I made a beeline for the platform, having singlemindedly pushed through the crowds on the busy local trains and the station itself. As other people were going to work or school, perhaps begrudgingly or silently sulking, I was looking forward to rest.

After a bit, the train left the station, watching the people turn from clearly defined shapes to a blur as the car’s electric motors rushed to speed. Not minding the announcements, a little ruffle of plastic later, the chopstick packet’s ripping, and lifting a lid, I chowed down on my first proper meal for the day. By Saitama, I found myself quite bored, though sleepy. One more month before we head back to Tokyo to study, though for my case, a homecoming was due.

When I woke up, on instinct, my ears perked up at two words, first being “arriving,” and second, home, “Toyama.”

I got off the Shinkansen a little past two hours after I boarded it, the sun almost at its height. Being one of the longer stops, I did not need to hurry pulling my things off the rack. Walking to the elevator, the humidity struck me, yet where I came from, now I would not complain of summers here being “too hot” while I took a swig and got rid of my bottle. Being welcomed again by the folks back home was an expectedly small but warm reception. I was glad to be told we were heading to my favorite restaurant, a small mom-and-pop place. Last I saw, I still used a taped, handwritten menu for my homecoming lunch. I know that internally, I felt like a kid again getting my curry slid my way, maybe local beer for myself too. Something must be said about food always tasting better after you’ve missed it for so long.

Getting back at home, my bed was just as I remembered it, save for it feeling a little softer than I remembered; the shelf and table, I could tell, were just quickly dusted off. I might clean it later, hopefully when the jetlag leaves me. The next thing I could remember was snuggling in, having used the last of my willpower to change into pajamas and jam the A/C on its highest setting. Stirring out of bed, it was dark, my sense of time got its bearings, and I guessed it was past midnight. I got my phone and checked, 00:25, correct. Checking some messages, I had a lockscreen to play post office with. With my best Solid Snake impression as I tried not to creak the staircase, looking at my phone, I filtered in my head who I would reply to first. Mostly, my closest friends welcomed me back; some replied to my Instagram story, and others used LINE. My stomach was first telling me about itself, so I dragged myself out of bed and checked the refrigerator, deciding to throw mabodofu over rice and stick it in the microwave. I beat the timer at least, and sat down to eat, spoon in hand, I started to reply. One of my friends had quite the proposition for me in hand.

[You want to go to our high school’s summer festival?]

I don’t have bad memories of high school. But it had only been two years since we all left for Tokyo. My curiosity got the better of me, but I was down for it.

[Sounds nice, but why?]

Hm? I was surprised to see he was actually typing an answer.

[Everybody from our class is going to be there.]

I do miss our own school festivals. University, here and abroad, seemed to just feel like networking events, almost like a conference of nervous young adults, or wild parties that can empty the social battery out of anybody. Eating something spicy to wake myself up, though, was always something I did. Though maybe I was just missing, instead, aching to do something worth my while before the semester starts again.

[Everybody?] I asked.

There were thirty of us from our class. No, a group I could count on my fingers was not “everybody.”

[Eh, maybe? I have seen some of the girls, those that left for Osaka, at least, even the ones that went for Hokkaido are here, must be hotter there than here, wwww]

I laughed to myself. Alright, he doesn’t lie too much. I took a spoonful, thinking, before typing.

[When is it?]

[Two days from now.] So, on Thursday.

He added that another friend of ours, from the same neighborhood and class, should go as a quartet. The boys from the same ward are still moving as a squad. I gave my commitment then. I wasn’t feeling the jet lag so much after I finished the dishes, feeling a bit sentimental at how fast time had passed since we were the students staying up this late just to prepare or practice. Time does go by. Going up, I could only unpack the larger bag, only then did I feel like sleeping again. Jumping into bed without as much as closing it, I could afford to wake up late anyway.

Daytime, well, the afternoon, was a jog and a half down by the Jōganji, though the sun was already setting when I got back. I did see two of my friends on the walk back, perhaps with my music down lower now, even the konbini clerk was a junior of mine, all being familiar tones. I did think someone was calling to me when I was jogging down an incline, though my head was turned to the stream, watching the sun reflect off the water, and my ears were being blasted to keep my spirits up. I guess we would have to see each other tomorrow, whoever that was. Trying to guess who that was, I was not exactly satisfied with myself, when, having been so long, some voices I just couldn’t remember or put a face to. Though I didn’t lose sleep over trying, I forgot it as soon as I turned the shower off, and I readied for the rest of the night.

We were late the next morning. I was arrogant to think I could get rid of the jet lag by the morning. Waking up to several missed calls from my friends, the three of us who lived in the same neighborhood. I slide my window to see them yelling at me to get ready. Yelling back, I told them to go ahead, and I would just follow. They know I was not going under the sun without preparing myself.

We were about an hour off from our target time when I ran out, stepping on my right sneaker to force my foot in. There was much to be said about how, here, even the train schedules were more laid back, the intervals long enough to strike a conversation even as we waited for the local train. Friends we were, the topics ranging from what the weather was like abroad, to how different—but also similar—people were to us back home.

Getting off the train, our campus was in a quieter part of town, not terribly far from the center. Yet we, the alumni, felt more festive than the students of the same school walking on the other side of the street. It could only be that they were pretty tired, or bored, or maybe we were just happy to be back. Then we met another one of our classmates coming from the other way. They were a bit busy talking amongst themselves. At the same time, I found myself just scanning the neighborhood again, only to feel that instinct to turn my head and see someone I know. She saw us first and called us. If I had doubts about people attending and if she could come back from as far as Asahikawa, there might be a chance that “everybody will be here.”

Going inside, it was the usual fare of a school festival. When we turned the gate, an array of booths already greeted us. Being student-run, I found that most booths were food stalls, though there was an odd console-game booth and a face-painting booth. Some matches were being played on the oval, though the diamond where we tried to be puro yakyū smelled more like yakitori and frying than teenagers yelling. We were told that the other girls were on the other side, and our only lady wanted to go left. Yet we protested and went to the left, where the scent of food wafted; none of us boys had breakfast yet.

Diverting from them, we promised her to give us thirty minutes before we all went and saw each other. Walking right into the crowd, some of whom may have been our batchmates, a senior or junior. Seeing students made me think if mine still fit, maybe, just maybe, it became a little larger for me. Though such reminiscing left me once I started to slurp out of the styrofoam bowl, my buddy next to mine caught my sigh after it. Asking me why, I told him.

“It feels odd to be back.”

“Oh, sentimental so early?”

“It’s just because it’s been a while,” I said, “Things have happened.”

“You saw your old crush, then?” He said, laughing at me. I did. Though she, unnamed, was just that, a schoolboy’s hormone-charged fantasy. Yet, even as I laughed in reply, he still wasn’t right.

“Maybe it’s just because I went abroad. I missed home.”

“I remember seeing it somewhere, some English show,” he began, then pretty much caught himself trying to think too hard before returning his attention to his gyūdon, able to spit it out after chewing halfway, “Absence makes the heart grow…softer?”

He was just about right, swapping out the word for a synonym. The correct word to the adage was fonder. I agreed with him, then the spotlight of our meal conversation soon floated elsewhere. After that, we walked by the sakuras, without their blossoms this time of year, to the small square tables, where the girls and the other half of the boys were. Some of them had their backs turned to us, and the others, even from the side of their faces, I could recognize by name. A few of them greeted us quite later than the rest, as there were around twenty people alone. The last one was a girl.

They called her attention, and only then did I get her name back: Yamada, Kaede. She was not particularly tall, and I remembered her hair being shorter. She did look better—though to be fair, we all did as we grew up—from the last time I saw her. What else could I remember about her other than her dancing, being the vice captain of the dance club after all. After I had exchanged my greetings with everybody else, she came to me, and after the usual polite pleasantries, asked.

“Were you outside yesterday afternoon?” she asked. I confirmed it, “Yeah, I was jogging.”

“Eh, so it was you I was calling to yesterday?!” Kaede chimed, smiling. She had never seen me doing it, simply because when I started, I would jog a bit after dinner. “You had a cap on, right?”

“Yeah! Oh, so that was you!” I replied, maybe a little too loudly. Finally, that was mysterious, well, not exactly, caller. I think I heard a bike too before that. I asked

“And you were on a bike?” I asked. Kaede confirmed herself. Somehow, I thought it was an older family friend calling me.

Beyond that, I just caught up with her. I was not particularly close to her, thinking she was pretty timid, sometimes lively, and very competitive. She was not one to give up her advantage where she could if it came down to it. She was much of the former, a group player, and smart off the stage. It did not surprise me that she was also on vacation from Tokyo, helping part-time at the store near her house. However, her days off had her going out with her girlfriends, which is the usual story for everybody. Though I had kept in contact with her and the rest of us, it was cordial.

Before, beyond our classroom, I would just see her walking home from their dance practice at the gym. Other times, our friend group would go out, her best friend being the girlfriend of one of mine. Sometimes I saw her study at last light on the bleacher close to the gate, given that our old library was on the top floor. I was trying my best as a catcher at our campus’ diamond. I never even decided to try out, but I apparently did well enough to not lose our class’ title. We were all moving as a group while that went on. While she kept to her group, I kept my attention on my guy friends, being the trailing group as we stopped at almost every booth that caught somebody’s interest. Passing by, someone even inserted an all-boys plan to go camping by next week, perhaps driven by the nostalgia of another being a former camping club member. I forgot there seemed to be clubs for all kinds of things, and the slower pace of just being up for everything was something I welcomed.

The rest of the day was quite a blur. High on nostalgia, even if it had not been so long since we all left, we grabbed lunch at the same family restaurant we often ate at after school. Yet the ramen I had tasted was slightly different, though not worse. Maybe because it was now the son, a senior of ours, who was running the place. After that, we just hung out on campus, going around and playing with the booths to pass our time, maybe eating just a bit too much along the way. In the late afternoon, I squatted on the oval with a catcher’s mitt. However, it was just us wanting to play catch while looking casual, and out of place, and I managed anyway.

By the time the students had packed into the gym for their concert, we all decided it was probably time to leave. Packing into an izakaya, two of them, as the way we were mixed had the girls evenly split with the boys, the others going to the one next door. I sat just behind the sliding door, next to my old seatmate. Before we knew it, after several skewers and bowls of rice, someone had the drinks brought out. Given that this was the first time we had seen each other, I was glad I took more than my usual ration of rice. Several skewers later, and being a light drinker, I was satisfied with just a few cans. Admittedly, the two shots of saké, my first time in almost a year, burned, the sensation of which took some time to leave my throat. Some of us stumbled out, maybe to catch a smoke, and others, already hobbling, pale, with their eyes droopy, left with a buddy to help themselves. They probably just threw up, then came back. However, at one instance, I caught Kaede whispering with her best friend, catching them just as they both glanced my way. She was shy when my gaze caught hers, though I didn’t think much of it as I returned my attention to my now-drunk seatmate, almost pushing a shot glass to my face, insistent.

“One more!”

I took it, toasted to him, cursing under my breath, and with the same, thanked Buddha. I was not drunk yet, then I shut my eyes and threw my head back. It burned. In a moment, I was tipsy and thought that better be my last shot of liquor. He cheered, much to his now drunken excitement. However, it never left my mind that Kaede seemed to want to ask me something. I just needed to excuse myself, and after talking to him for a while, he was starting to doze off, his top half swinging like a harbor buoy before excusing himself, and finally, at the moment he slid the door shut, he wretched and spilled himself onto the canal. I was more fortunate to hold out and not feel like throwing up. A bit dazed, I could feel it leave me as soon as I was done with my business, though everybody was now slowly hobbling out of the small izakaya. As we were, the slow line made it feel like Comiket. Stumbling outside, I just passed my old seatmate into the charge of his neighbor, another classmate of mine, a girl who always had a passing interest in him. He was too drunk to do anything, now having a spiraling headache.

Giving him my goodbyes, I sent him off. Among the four of us who had left the house twelve hours ago, three were sober enough, and the other needed a lift as he had fallen asleep, drunk. When we argued about who would carry our sorry lad home, a small voice called me.

I turned around to see Kaede, who was a bit red like me. Though in comparison, she looked much better than I did, her shifting big eyes made her fidgety. She had a stain from her friend, the same seatmate she had, falling forward onto her. Poor woman. Almost stumbling over her words, she started.

“Hey, um, so you’re the only person I know not working a summer job now, but,” she stammered on, her fingers fidgeting against her bag strap, “You have a car, right?”

I must have been mistaken to think she was completely sober.

“My dad has a long-term rental, yeah."

"Eh…can you drive me to Kurobe?” Huh? It was quite far. Around an hour if I don’t speed. I would not turn it down, as I haven’t been there long. Kaede added that it was just a day’s drive since she had a curfew. It was a bit old-fashioned, outdated even, but she reasoned for herself well enough. She claimed it was an errand, a big, plastic ice chest that needed a trunk to load into, too difficult to carry by train or bus, and sparing her the job of arguing with or paying a fee to railway staff. For some reason, I presumed it was caught fish, or something of the sort. I asked her again.

“You really don’t know anybody else?” I thought to switch it around, last chance, “I mean, no problem. You don’t have a license?”

“Nope,” Kaede blunted back, and before she began to overexplain herself, I was slowly nodding. Then, only then, I remembered. Who, what, where, why, how, and I haven’t even asked her when.

It was, supposedly, just the day after the camping trip. I just let her drone for a bit, then agreed to her baitō for me.

“Alright, just tell me what time."

"I’ll see you on Friday then,” Kaede said before greeting me goodbye. I almost did not notice she had her hand out from her pocket after she bowed to me. I shook it; her hands were much softer than mine, and smelled less like alcohol, too. She must have wrapped it on her handkerchief. Though the idea of whether it was so or not left me the moment my drunken friend woke up a bit and started mumbling. Getting him water from the konbini before we turned into his street, the whole quartet that left the same morning looked like we were disposing of somebody as we carried him, swung over the largest one of us, and dropped him off. We all scrambled back after that, which was the end of the day. I fell asleep without changing out of my clothes, waking up slightly sweaty just before everybody else in the house.

Taking my time in the shower, I thought of the plans that had sprung up. The first trip made sense, the second I just shrugged off.

“You have done this before.” I thought while brushing my teeth. Even the girl who lived down the street had me play courier for her parents’ store before; they did pay me some. Though nothing much came of it, except once. Both of us had just turned eighteen. She still looks shyly at me sometimes when we pass each other. Suddenly, coming home felt like becoming an errand delivery boy again. However, I felt I had no real reason to refuse either. It was either dooming myself to boredom or experiencing something new in the summer; what fickle youthfulness.

Yet, falling asleep just as the first light came up on Friday, the week seemed longer than it should. I even saw Kaede, once, on the shōtengai, both of us with a parent. Little did we know they had been acquainted by attending the same Sunday prayer meeting. I just quizzed mine over lunch with poor knowledge of my Sunday teachings. I was glad it was not some shinshūkyō. Beyond pretending to be cardinal, Kaede had also talked to me when they were, and being alone, she was more casual on a Sunday, yet still a bit shy. Politely, she noted after getting a good look at me.

“I could not say it, but you were smaller than I remembered."

Small talk was not my strong suit. The best I could conjure as a compliment was something along the lines of just echoing it to her. Though I did it to stroke her ego, it came out a bit vague.

"You look much better than I.”

Kaede just shyly laughed, brushing it off like I had. Moving the conversation onward was a back-and-forth about how we had worked on ourselves for the time. Before she took after her mom, she came close and told me, her face was serious, almost at a whisper.

“Hey, don’t forget about Kurobe, okay?”

I just nodded, “Just tell me when.”

Following her mom, I wondered if she must have thought I would just bail on her. Yet, I was looking forward to it too—if she was, at least. It was getting to my head when she stared at me, her eyes, noticeably bigger than most, looked back with bayonets, with a curiosity to them.

My friends and I had our hike the morning after. Packing into a small kei van, we left it at the parking area and hiked the trail. A quiet, local spot, it was an easy one. Keeping our early lunches down, we barely had broken into a sweat when we arrived half past twelve. Splitting up, the three of us hiked several hundred meters more off-trail, led by our friend. We bantered along the way, thinking we would end up overlooking Tokyo since we changed direction, the polite “we got lost,” twice. Somehow, we arrived in time to view Toyama Bay in the last light of sunset, which was the best part of it. Behind our trio were the higher, snow-covered peaks for which our light clothes would be a little match. Just a little more than five minutes at the top, making our way down, we encountered deer doing the same thing, quite the sight. When we returned, the six-pack of beer we were carrying was already swimming in the icebox, and the skewers over the makeshift grill, a one-man operation.

Late in the evening, the group was once again split up. Two were in their tents, sleeping, while another friend and I were finishing the last of the cans. Our conversation had gone off the deep end; he was one of the few who did not decide to skip town, though he held no regrets about it. The more I talked, the more I thought I had sufficiently enjoyed myself abroad, though not recklessly. Steering into relationships, he was seeing somebody, a girl from Tokyo who hailed from Kurobe. Poking at him, I remarked.

“Don’t you get tired going back and forth?”

“She helps me take a long nap before I go!” He replied, both of us laughing. Taking a swig from his can, he caught me in the middle of mine when he asked.

“Oh, yeah, what’s up with you and Kaede?”

I remember him being a little tipsier than I, but he helped carry our passed-out buddy. Tipsy people can remember.

“She just asked me to do an errand,” I replied, “Asked me to drive her around.”

“I see, I’m quite surprised she asked you.”

“Eh? Why so?” I asked. I did not think much of it. I was aware Kaede was prettier now. I already told her that yesterday. Yet there was nothing to note, nothing off-beat about who she was now.

“She was looking for you a while back…”

I turned to face him, taking the last swig as he began. This better not be something corny, I thought. He took a deep breath. Oh, god.

“Probably just wanted me to-”

“There was a rumor, well, a secret, she told my girlfriend,” my friend wasn’t stopping, “Kaede had an interest in you.”

“Eh?!” I cried out, then laughed. That’s not true. He could tell it in my face while I rolled my eyes in disbelief, and he tried to press.

“Maybe that was some time ago,” I added with suspicion. He never mentioned a timeline.

“Well, yes. I thought it sounded better saying it in person.”

“You should update your information then,” I replied. But, if he would tattletale to his girlfriend, who might spill it to Kaede. I might as well say something. Careful now; I would not want my passenger staring daggers at me in two days. My brain tried to think at its most sober, eyes trained far to the horizon.

“Well, it was a had,” I blinked. Thinking about it. An honest answer was at hand, and I needed to keep it short, yet I gave myself away a bit, “I wouldn’t have minded it too.”

“Honestly, you do look good together.” He remarked. I looked annoyed again, not even turning red, just confused. I swatted my friend on the back as our banter continued.

After that, we switched to another topic. Yet I felt somehow tense during that one conversation. I found myself wondering about it before I fell asleep. I had the slightest inkling even a few years back, yet it was that, a passing guess. I had somebody else just before we all left. In addition, I was never really someone who was known, nor overly self-assured, an amateur on social fronts, who may be able to differentiate between when the girls were trying to flirt or just mess around with me. Come to think of it, yet to not sound apathetic— Kaede was not so bad.

The next morning. All of us woke up just in time to see the sunrise. The sun was high enough to make a break for the summit not worthwhile, and we just made do with the morning light rising over the mountain range. By now, out of money, we all had instant noodles before we had our final pictures, cleaned up, and went down. To think we all just did that once before as high schoolers. Then again, as sophomores. Having not had enough, we went out again in the evening, packing into a van for seafood by the beachfront this time.

Before I knew it. It was Kurobe day. Grabbing a heated sandwich, I got in the car and drove towards Kaede’s house, munching on it at the stoplights. I was on the last bite when I turned onto her street. Opening the door, her greeting was formal enough, with a box beside their gate that she asked to put. As she had told me, she put the chest out in the trunk, though I was worried for a second it wouldn’t fit. Once we got going, though, I made her giggle when I played taxi driver. Too corny, I thought. It took a while before we were on the ramp of the expressway. We both knew it would be a long ride, so I might as well lighten it up.

Holding a steady seventy-five, the conversation began. This was probably the first time I had Kaede close to me since we left this town. I learned much about what she had been up to, having gone to her second choice university instead of the first, where I was. Even there, she had gotten into the dance troupe again, though she found her program a little difficult, while working weekends at some place near Ota. For the summer, she was a shrine maiden. However, a common topic between us was how I secured an exchange program abroad. Yet I might have dashed her hopes by saying that learning a foreign language besides our barebones English education was quite the chore.

That’s how I entertained her for half of the ride. It made me miss being abroad a bit, though. While I was there, I missed Toyama and Tokyo in equal measure. Yet Kaede was more attracted to the fact that, where I was, I just seemed to enjoy the whole year I was out. While I failed to mention how it had much more rigorous instruction than whatever I had experienced so far, or that social rules were still rules over there.

“It’s a mix of both. Throw your preconceptions out the door, so you just enjoy yourself.”

I asked her if Kaede wanted to grab something, and I was glad to hear she was hungry too. Skipping the first gas station, we went to the rest stop, with her heading to the konbini. I told her to just get me anything, yet I was handed the sandwich, the simple ham cutlet, that I liked most on their shelves. Having forgotten about it, I found my eyes drifting at the first bite, and I just had to ask how she knew it was so before leaving. Her answer left me quiet, staring to her side, almost forgetting to merge.

“I remember you’ve been buying that one since high school."

Maybe I was thinking too much about it. She was correct, yet with how many times I ate it, the packaging was still distinct enough. I just had to ask how.

"When I walked in every morning, you usually ate that when you sat down, didn’t you?"

I confirmed, adding. Heck, even while walking up the stairs, "this one and the chicken and egg sando."

Kaede was proud of herself, with a sly smile when I glanced. Once we got back on the expressway, she broke the ice first. Suddenly, she asked about my dating life. I did a bit to divert it elsewhere, but came clean and told her I had seen my fair share. A few of which I had done a little more with. She let out this shy, silly laugh, hearing about the latter and knowing the implication, while not helping her reputation as a quiet, inward lady. Alright, then, it was my turn to ask.

Kaede was a bit shy at first, but I was able to get through to her. Gossip was the old way of doing things, though an exposé was too much to expect.

"I have seen a few guys,” she said, “Often just on first dates, someone got to second, then he ghosted me,” then her tone shifted, “One got drunk over dinner and tried to drag me into a love hotel…”

From her tone, she was not a fan of it. Then I remembered, it was a point of discussion back up at the mountain, though, admitting myself guilty of it just once, I repeated my point to clarify intent.

“I mean, you did say you just wanted a date, right?” trying not to make it awkward, “So, what did you do?"

"I slapped him,” Kaede responded, “Twice. My hands got a bit sore.”

Otters still fight back, after all.

“I can’t even imagine an angry Kaede. I guess it’s a good thing.”

She just laughed from her side. Since then, she just went out with her girl friends. Another gossip trail started from there, though after that, the conversation drifted into the more mundane. But still, Kaede was the same all these years. She was always thinking of her words, and her eyes, when not on me, would somewhat wander, thinking of the next thing to say, any louder, and the music would drown her voice out easily.

That made the two hours seem a little too easy. By then, I hadn’t even asked what the errand was about. It was a simple one: Kaede was tasked to pick up fish, and leaving our car, we did not even last more than ten minutes at the fishport, not counting a diversion to eat some sashimi, though she was insistent on getting some shellfish too. The latter were not particularly my type, but all I ate dutifully.

A more professional Kaede emerged when we got to the vendor she was looking for. Being able to get what she was asked for at a hundred yen less, then a loaded icebox with two baskets worth of fish inside later, and the only thing left to do was drive back. Though compared to Toyama, there was one glaring problem with Kurobe—a stereotypical countryside city—there was simply nothing else to do in a day.

“Maybe we should go to the beach,” Kaede suggested. It was on our horizon, but was still a walk away. I agreed with her, and we started walking to the shoreline. I didn’t know where to place my hands, nor did she. Though it was a particularly warm mid-morning, we could hear the breeze from the west, which made it a little cooler. The silence bothered me quite a bit, from shuffling steps to waiting silently at the stoplights. I do not remember who started it, but it was an innocent question.

“You don’t go out to the shoreline much?”

“Not really. It’s quite boring when you’re alone.”

Such a sentiment was true after all. Walking out when the tide is rolling in and one is treated to the sound of the waves. Asking introverts to do small talk always meant random conversations. That question kept both of us company, only a few inches apart, Kaede’s hand on her bag strap, and so did I, yet I found myself doing something I haven’t done in a while. Usually, I couldn’t give less of a damn as a fast walker. However, slowing down when walking is normal, yet I found myself throttling back to match her pace, listening. I asked and added some experiences of my own, noticing how her hands would articulate when she talked about how much she loved going to the beach. Yet she couldn’t hide her excitement behind her eyes, and how glad she was that the weather turned out fine. When we were walking to the last crosswalk, the busiest, she turned the conversation towards me. She sounded slightly tense when she said, “I’m quite happy you brought me out here, too.”

“I’m just helping my friends out,” I replied.

Kaede then said something silly. Her eyes looked side to side as a sly smile curled her lips, before she leaned in and blurted, “Aren’t you worried someone might see us?”

“I think there’s nothing to worry about.”

Then, Kaede did something unexpected, but not out of the books. The countdown of the crosswalk had just begun. I just looked around while the digital number counted down from thirty, and even if there had only been three trucks and one car waiting, we just had to wait. Still standing beside her, my hand was in my pocket, having worn a looser pair of pants. Come to think of it, we were matching, except she had lighter colors and a long, light coat over herself. She then linked her arm around mine.

I turned, shocked, just as Kaede tugged me towards her, flashing a smile, her eyes included. She was averting her gaze but laughing as I felt her tap her head on my shoulder. She tried to keep herself looking straight, but hid her laugh and giggling while my mouth was just in shock. Though I can’t help but pull at her too. I think both of us were searching for our words, the whiplash of a high school friend suddenly linking her arms with mine, and not just in a joking, juvenile manner, like how it was then. I was not going to overreact, as there was still no problem to be found, and this was neither our first time dating at this age—but only couples do this! Did I miss a hint? I couldn’t figure out for the life of me whether I should cuss or not, and I just ended up with.

“Eh?!"

"Are you worried now?” Kaede asked cheekily. I needed to gather myself.

“Hm, of course not.”

“Would you have said yes if I told you I wanted to do this?” she tugged again at my arm.

I remembered what my friend had told me on our outing. Like any intelligence method, his transferred intelligence was wrong: Kaede still held her interest, and I had just been outmaneuvered. No confrontation, yet her surprise. The crosswalk then turned green, and I began to walk in step. I answered her.

“I wouldn’t have said no either way.”

Kaede just smiled at my answer. Vindicated. Perhaps I had been a bit dense, though I had become quite used to playing the role of driver. One of my friends even joked that he missed how easy it was to get me to agree to do it, provided they paid the gas. Though we were quiet once again, arms linked, the shoreline, a rocky beach, was visible now. Trying to distract myself with the waves, loud, crashing, and foaming as they rolled over the stones. It was not enough to leave me wondering why Kaede didn’t just directly ask me out last week. Why now, during summer break? The answers to those had to wait.

Descending the stairs, with Kaede a bit ahead, it only took a few steps before the crunch of the beach greeted us. Being relatively high in the morning, the sun neared its zenith, and barely anybody else was outside. She then took off and jogged ahead of me, hearing her giddy as I slowly followed, my pace still the same as the pebbles grinded under my soles. She only stopped to drop her jacket, fold her pants past her knees, take off her socks, and put them back inside her shoes. Finally, she looked back at me with a wide smile as she tied her hair. I just waved, still following as she carefully stepped into the water.

Standing beside her shoes, I contemplated following Kaede into the knee-deep ocean. Turning around to face me, she beckoned. So I did, placing my things beside hers. Barefoot, the cold water on my toes made me slightly shudder as I walked towards her. A wave came in, making me stop to check if my pants were wet too. She had her hands out for me as I closed the distance. I told her as soon as I knew she could hear me.

“If this is your idea of a first date, it’s new.”

When I got to Kaede, she embraced me. I let out a yelp as she almost threw me off balance. She was laughing at me when I put my arm around her shoulder. Holding her, she was quiet. I thought it should not be a difficult question to answer.

“Why didn’t you just say you wanted to go on a date?”

Kaede then put her lips together, licked her lips, and then sighed. Perhaps not as easy an answer. I must have come off as confused or even a little mad. It got her really thinking for a clear answer.

“I don’t really know, I haven’t done this in so long. It’s difficult dating in the city,” mirroring my words, “I already knew you well enough, and felt just a bit more ready to ask you out, and then you left.”

I then asked Kaede why now, during the summer break. Despite us sometimes seeing each other in Tokyo when our friend groups would go out, she was just warm and cordial, but not flirty. Yet, I braced for an excuse that might translate to a casual affair. Maybe I was getting cold feet while standing in cold water. Yet, as if straightening her back, she took a deep breath and stood firm on herself.

“You came back, I thought when you were leaving to study. You were migrating abroad.” Kaede’s tone was low, her voice shaking slightly, recalling her misheard take, like whispering some sad secret, “You just happened to come back during summer. I did not want to regret not asking you, so please don’t mistake me for something casual.”

It was a better confession from Kaede than most. It moved me a bit, almost losing myself staring at her. All that hidden when she never even made a pass at me the moment she saw me. Giving her a good look, I often think I knew when people lied, that I had forgotten when someone wasn’t. I just held her a bit closer after that, gently rubbing at her arm, with my words coming after.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t make you regret it.”

We just stood there, together, for those few minutes. Silently watching the waves roll in, their white tops rolling just before us, with our feet cold and wet, the slow breeze on our faces. Facing the ocean, an uncertain horizon stretched endlessly to a faraway land. We both understood the facing of a certain, honest commitment to it all. If you want to play the long game with someone, first, you need to hold them close. Kaede had bided her time, and I was not about to run now. Weighing upon what I had just said scared me somewhat, blurring the line where a relationship felt less like an arrangement, but more of a charge into something we must’ve thought we understood as friends. It was as if the ocean called us to swim out towards it. Though maybe, in a sense, we truly were swimming into the more unknown.

There was no need for overt realization, just the profound realization of an attempt at us. Then Kaede asked—and snapped us out—another innocent question, “You want to go eat?”

Agreeing, I hugged her before we walked back toward the shore. Only when picking up our things did we realize that our feet were wet, and nobody had a towel. Being a hot day, we did not want to waste money buying a towel at a stall. The next best choice was to sit and wait for our feet to dry enough. Making our way towards the seawall barefoot, our steps marking on the pavement, we sat down. Now I wanted something, so I turned to Kaede and invited.

“You know what, maybe let’s just get ice cream for now.”

Now it was my turn to remember what ice cream Kaede liked. At the freezer, I didn’t feel pressured looking for her jumbo choco monaka, which, next to my garigari-kun bar looked particularly mismatched. Paying for it, she was on her phone as I approached, but lifted her head up, and was happy when I handed her an ice cream bar.

“Now we’re even,” Kaede cheekily remarked as we opened it. Sitting beside her, we just stared, but probably had some small talk as we licked away at our untimely dessert, though for the melting, we both had tissues for that. Soon, we got our shoes back on, without direction, walking beside the beach, and being in a seaside town, remembering from our earlier sideshow to our own errand. We agreed that maybe it was time for seafood.

We settled down at the restaurant. When I let Kaede have the okazu first, I told her that I found it funny that we were dining together for a different reason now. She admitted that she felt the same, but we both were getting a kick out of it. Facing her seafood ramen, I had my black ramen. However, she got shocked and called me out for my love for sushi, four of eight I downed in quick succession, lathering wasabi on all of them. Lunch took longer, or it just felt so, than it had been on most days. Maybe I was just enjoying it. The present meant that I had less to guess when it came down to her.

It was already early in the afternoon when we stepped out, as the shoji door clicked behind us, Kaede suggested we make our way towards the small town mall. Even if we were running quite low on cash, I guess her appetite for adventure wasn’t satisfied yet. Letting her take me wherever, we found ourselves reading at a secondhand bookstore, despite not having the money or need to buy anything. All that included the spontaneous mundaneity of having fun with friends; were we still? However, at her insistence, I gave in and bought the third book I was reading.

Almost in tow to her at a small specialty store, and while we were deciding behind a shelf, basket in hand, whether or not to buy the matcha ice cream from the counter. Here I thought she had no more cash, and I lightly insisted against it despite having had one earlier. I got a call, and I was never really a fan of it. She knew our time today was almost up. It was my dad, and with the car a fifteen-minute walk away, I knew what that meant. Saying my goodbyes, I glanced at the time, then looked at Kaede.

“Well, they want me to bring the car back.”

“When?”

“Now, they need it by 6pm.”

Though before she could say anything more, “Oh, you win, here, just use this.” I handed Kaede my last five-thousand bill. I thought that if she was getting one, I was too. We walked out of there with her having the bigger cone, yet still she wanted to put her spoon in mine. Strolling, I matched paces with her, arms linked in march. I told her we would be seeing the sundown from the road back, and that led us to the konbini again, buying chips for ourselves within eyeshot of the car. That made a fifteen-minute walk twenty-five as I started the car again. Crossing the first stoplight and seeing the on-ramp, I thought today couldn’t end like this.

“Are you free for dinner, then?”

“I thought you had no more money?” Kaede asked.

“I have to drop the car off at home,” I began, pausing to look at the side mirror, before finishing, “that only means I could get more money.”

A quick glance at Kaede had her agreeing. Making herself comfortable, I drove onward, though it did not take long before I heard her rummaging through the plastic. A pop of chips later, and to keep me company, she talked to me, though occasionally her hand fed me while I kept my eyes on the road, going just a little faster than earlier. Sometimes, however, my eyes would dart to the sunset. The expressway, only going over rice fields on this side of Nihon, had no noise barriers, essentially, no walls to obstruct the view of the ocean.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kaede remarked. Feeling her looking at me, I just nodded and agreed with her. I told her I did not have to worry about leaving her when the break ends, getting all bashful when I mentioned that while our campus in Tokyo was quite far, our own dormitories were somewhere midway. The thought excited her. Under orange skies slowly turning purple, I drove to Toyama, arriving slightly later than six. An extra detour to their house to drop the ice chest, I thought I would have to walk to her first, though I was surprised when she went out the gate and rode back in. Parking the car on my street, I told Kaede.

“Just wait here,” while I hurriedly went back inside. Thinking I was getting a scolding, it turned out my dad was running late. Ironic. Just checking myself in the mirror, a quick comb, then a rummage for my envelope of money. One reloaded wallet a second later, and a swift, hand-waved, stock response of, “Oh, my friends are asking me out!” while walking to the door. Out of the gate, I found Kaede kneeling and petting our house cat. Giving the feline a treat and a pat on the butt before the loud clang of the gate rang behind it.

“Well, where do you wanna go now?” I asked Kaede. Thinking about it for a second, she had the simplest answer, “How about Sukiya?”

It was the cheapest option we could think of. It was also an old hangout of our batch. Pondering about it for a second, I thought about pushing about that other, family-run restaurant we all frequented. I imagined the smell of a fast-food restaurant when I gave her my answer.

We were thinking whether we should take the train or walk. Only needing to cross the river, we settled for the latter. During this time, in our home city, nonetheless, where anyone could see us, I tried not to quickly grab onto Kaede. Walking down the avenue to the bridge, many stores closed early, and only the konbinis and entertainment establishments were open at the center. The chance of one of our friends from the izakaya seeing us remains higher than zero. However, she had something else in mind when I tried to link our arms: pulling away and grabbing my hand instead.

If she was staking her claim this early, I was all in. Continuing our march onward, crossing the bridge had us trying to look over the railing, but to little avail. Later, we found ourselves at a near-empty restaurant. Sitting beside each other, we couldn’t have ordered a more different dinner than earlier. She had the heavier meal this time around. The first few bites had us quiet, as the allure of a cheap, filling set meal should do.

“You want to go out tomorrow?” Kaede asked.

“Tomorrow?” I answered that I had another errand tomorrow.

“I was thinking of grabbing coffee in the afternoon.” Her face dropped a bit.

“It depends. Quite easy to cook up an excuse, you know.” I cheekily replied.

However, I remained curious about what exactly we did earlier. Kaede’s intentions were clear: she wanted to start dating me. Knowing this wasn’t just a girl I met online or last week, I felt the weight to make it work, and not just hope it would. I just listened, then when she finished, I nodded and answered.

“I can make time for you.”

Though doggedly, my mind wandered about what our cargo was for. Working off that, maybe she was helping at the seafood store her mom worked at. But Kaede shut me down. If not that, then what? I asked again what her actual summer job was.

“I’m a miko.” A shrine maiden.

“You’re free in the evenings then?” Now I had a better timeframe to work from.

Kaede added that sometimes, she got off early in the afternoon too, though often she would need to go to the mall or grocery afterward. When I asked her why that was, she simply said she liked how quiet the temple grounds were. The topic was lighter again after that, and both of us were doing something Buddha would not quite approve of: gossip.

Two empty bowls of rice and a shared plate of gyoza later, we left. Though now, I found myself holding her hand before we even crossed the intersection. We were on our last leg, and while my house was closer, I would bring Kaede home first. It meant a longer walk but more time with her. Much like earlier, I found myself walking at her pace and holding her closer as it approached nine in the evening.

“First date and you’re already setting a second,” I remarked. It wasn’t like I was looking forward to it myself.

“I mean,” Kaede looked for her words, “Dating couples should go out some more, shouldn’t they?"

I laughed, then agreed with her. I then thought of what our first formal "date” was. I argued that it was today. Yet, for her, it was our group “double-dates,” which had been neither between four people nor actual dates. Or maybe, just maybe, perhaps arguing in jest, if I had gotten the hint. I argued again about whether there was any when I helped her move to Tokyo. She just tugged at my elbow and gave me a bit of a glare. I just gave up my case, teasing her throughout. I was serious about telling her that while I found many of our classmates pretty, I was not expecting her to make the first move. She was not particularly spiteful, but she agreed.

“I didn’t mind that I was quite late,” Kaede concluded, though she never was, “I only care that we are now.”

それでも君を連れて行くよ
soredemo kimi wo tsurete yuku yo
I’ll still take you there

I just chuckled. Kaede just lightly smacked my shoulder this time—what a poet.

Coming up to their gate, she unlocked it. Though instead of entering, she walked back to me. I hugged her tightly and said, “I’d like us to go out again.”

揺れたり震えたりした線で
yuretari furuetari shita sen de
With lines that sway and shake

“We’ll see tomorrow.” I just kissed Kaede’s forehead in response.

Before she went inside. She whispered one last request, “aishite.”

描くよ君の歌を
egaku yo kimi no uta wo
I’m drawing your song.