One Who Changed, One Who Never Did
The rain continued into morning. It was heavy enough to serve as an excuse for not moving immediately after getting out of bed. Thus, I had time to think about what I should do next.
I was getting accustomed to hearing bad news out of her mouth, so I waited for her next sentence, prepared to not be swayed whatever she said - but that was all she said, just looking over my list afterward. It didn’t seem to be a question with any deep meaning behind it.
I took another look at Miyagi.
Well, let me come out and say it. Speaking strictly of appearance, she wasexactly my type. Refreshing eyes, gloomy eyebrows, tight lips, a pretty-shaped head, smooth-looking hair, nervous fingers, slender thighs - well, I could go on.
Because of that fact, ever since her appearance in my apartment, my behavior was thrown for a loop.
If my observer were the opposite of her - ugly, dirty and middle-aged - I’m sure I’d be able to relax more and think about what the right thing to do was.
“Well, that’s what I was thinking about too.”
“You might be right,” I admitted. “Maybe there’s nothing I really want to do before I die. But I feel like I can’t do nothing, so I’m trying to imitate someone else.”
Leaving me with that presumably meaningful comment, Miyagi returned to her usual position.
The conclusion I arrived at that morning was as follows.
What needs repairing at this point? I thought I had nothing to lose.
I looked over the list again, and then, preparing myself, called a friend.
I left with an umbrella, but by the time I reached the train station, the rain had stopped - an event which seemed to perfectly define me.
I hadn’t taken a train in a long time. I entered the waiting room, bought a soda from a vending machine by the trash can, sat down on a bench, and finished it in three drinks. Miyagi bought mineral water for herself, and chugged it down with eyes closed.
I looked up at the sky through the window. There was a faint rainbow forming. I’d forgotten that such a phenomenon even occurred.
There was something I noticed, having a new look on it. I could only see a total of five colors in that great arching bow in the sky - I was two short of seven. Red, yellow, green, blue, violet.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “And if we take it further, I might never use another waiting room, or this might be it for drinking soda, or this is the last time I’ll throw a can.”
“Anything might be the last. But it’s always been that way, even before I sold my lifespan.”
So I said, but Miyagi’s statement had begun to make me feel a little antsy.
Thinking of it that way, I suddenly began to feel some vague fears. Death means the inability to do anything ever again but be dead.
After getting off the train, I went to a restaurant that was about fifteen minutes away by bus to meet Naruse.
His head worked fast, and he could speak in a way that captivated people, so he was liked by his peers. It’s strange to think now that a social outcast like me was on good terms with him.
We did have one thing in common. And that was that we could afford to laugh off most things in this world.
I wanted to laugh at everything in that way once more. That was my first objective. But there was a second reason I wanted to meet him.
While waiting for Naruse to arrive, Miyagi sat in the seat beside me, on the aisle side. It was a table for four, but the seats weren’t made very wide, so Miyagi and I were naturally brought closer.
I could recognize what an unbearably pathetic hope it was. But if I wanted to do something, I had to do it. It’s sad, but that was the first thing after selling my lifespan I clearly thought “I want to do this” about.
“Hey, miss observer,” I said to Miyagi.
Scratching my neck, I said “Well, I have a request -”
“You okay not ordering anything?”
“What, is there something bad about that?”
Miyagi grabbed the waitress’s sleeve and shook it slightly. Indeed, as Miyagi said, there was no response.
“Any and all sensation I give to a person is treated as if it didn’t happen,” she said, picking up a glass. “So though I may hold up this glass, it is not as if she sees it floating. That said, neither does she see the glass suddenly disappear when I touch it, nor does she think it didn’t move at all - it just didn’t happen. I cannot be perceived as being "there,” but furthermore, I cannot even be perceived as being “gone.” …However, there is one exception. The lone individual who can perceive an observer is the person they observe. Troublingly, while I am essentially “non-existent,” I cannot be non-existent to you who is aware of me. …The point is, Mr. Kusunoki, that you currently appear as if you are talking to air.“
I checked the waitress’s expression.
If he had arrived just a few dozen seconds later, I’m sure I would have done it. But before I’d firmly decided upon it, I saw Naruse entering the restaurant. I reluctantly went over and greeted him.
“Yeah, I guess.”
By the time we were done telling each other how things were going for us now, we started to speak as if returning to high school days.
We tore into everything, and that was our intent. Naruse and I said trivial things we’d forget immediately and laughed together.
I didn’t say a word about the lifespan thing. I wasn’t sure if he’d believe me, and I didn’t want to spoil what we had going.
“Nah,” I promptly replied, then carefully looked for the right words to follow with. “…I haven’t drawn at all since I got to college.”
I knew it was bizarre, but that exchange, not even ten seconds long, obliterated all the fondness I’d built up for Naruse over three years. All too quickly.
That’s the one thing you can’t laugh at.
True, I gave up on it. But that absolutely doesn’t mean it’s something that’s okay to laugh at.
The smile I gave Naruse gradually came to have nothing behind it. I lit a cigarette and stopped talking myself, just nodding at Naruse.
Miyagi spoke from beside me.
I shook my head slightly, but she went on regardless.
“It seems you’ve just now come to hate Mr. Naruse a bit. But in truth, Mr. Naruse is not as fond of you as you believe. Originally, you would have met Mr. Naruse two years later in a similar way, and a minor thing would lead to a dispute, ending with the two of you parting. …You should cut it off soon before it reaches that point. Nothing good will come of placing your hopes in this man.”
The irritation I felt toward Miyagi didn’t come from the fact she insulted my friend. It also wasn’t because I was told something I didn’t want to know, and it wasn’t because I couldn’t stand putting on an expression I didn’t actually feel.
Then what was I so irritated at, you ask? I wouldn’t be too sure how to answer.
At any rate - Naruse in front of me prattling on thoughtlessly, Miyagi beside me muttering gloomy things, two young girls on the other side of the aisle gabbing in shrill voices in a conversation that was more interjections than words, a troupe behind me talking about their opinions as passionately as if they were drunk, a group of students in the far seats clapping and shouting - suddenly, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
Shut UP, I thought.
It made a louder crash than I expected as it shattered, but the restaurant was silent for only a moment before the noise resumed.
I hit the disembark button, got off the bus, and hit about three hundred pitches there. By the time I put the bat down, my hands were bloody and numb, and sweaty to boot.
I bought a Pocari Sweat from a vending machine and sat down on a bench to slowly drink it, watching a group of men bat who I would think were coming home from work.
Maybe I didn’t really care for people like Naruse, but just hoped I could love myself through him, since he approved of how I thought.
And while Naruse had changed, I never did.
The train was filled with high schoolers coming home from clubs, and all of a sudden I felt old. I closed my eyes and turned my attention to the sounds of the train.
Night had already fallen. I dropped by the convenience store before returning to the apartment.
While I took my beer and snacks to the register, I noticed a college couple in jerseys and sandals were shopping there too.
“Yes. I know,” Miyagi said, her eyes looking at me cautiously. I couldn’t blame her. Anyone would be cautious in front of a guy who throws a glass in the middle of a conversation.
“You’re not hurt?”
“Hey, I really am sorry.”
“Wanna drink when you’re done writing that observation log or whatever?”
“I see. Well, apologies, but I can’t. I’m on the job.”
“Sorry. I just found it odd. Wondering why you would say that.”
“I don’t recall,” said Miyagi.
Once I emptied out the can of beer, took a hot shower, and brushed my teeth, I was able to have a healthy sleep. It must have been my fatigue from the batting center.
Maybe the world was only nice when it came to people who were already dead. That should have been clear, but it seemed I couldn’t get away from my naive thoughts.