Episode 49: Sinking Into the Blank
Hearing Saeko’s account in the president’s office, my body had bolted from the building before I’d decided anything.
The rush had rubbed my heel raw inside my shoe; my foot throbbed, stinging, with every step.
None of that mattered.
That day, I’d cut Yuno off, again and again, every time she tried to say something.
I should have listened properly. Really listened.
Selfish, emotional, I’d thrown cruel words at her.
I want to apologize. She might hate me by now.
Even so — I want to apologize.
I want to tell her properly: I liked her. I still like her, now.
I have to contact her.
Thinking that, hurrying along the way home, I scrolled through my phone screen.
My finger stopped.
Ah. Right.
That day, I’d blocked her. Deleted her LIME contact, too.
She’d gone back to Saeko, I’d thought — she wouldn’t need it anymore. There’d be no reason to ever contact her again.
That’s what I’d told myself, and erased it with my own hand.
Clinging to one thin thread of hope — maybe — I half-ran toward the alley where Yuno and I had first met.
No one there.
Only the cold flicker of neon in the dim, narrow street.
I went home and paced, aimless, around the hollow, dim apartment.
Not there.
What else…
There’s nowhere else. No other place that holds any memory of her.
Because I’d kept Yuno shut inside that one room, the whole time.
If only I’d taken her to more places. So many more places.
Something deep in my chest clenched, tight.
The tears wouldn’t stop. They ran down my cheeks, down my chin, again and again.
There was one place. One place that held a memory.
I leapt into the car and pressed the accelerator.
The sea, at night. Where we’d gone together.
That sea — the one Yuno had asked to see, for her birthday.
I walked across the sand toward the spot where we’d sat together and drunk.
Not there.
Only the waves, mechanical, indifferent, breaking and receding.
— I used to think about it almost every day. Wanting to disappear, quickly.
— Every time someone brought me to the night sea, I used to think — maybe the waves would just carry me off, like this.
Yuno’s fragile profile, swaying in the night sea light.
Those eyes, looking like they might vanish at any moment.
A terrible premonition crossed my mind, and my whole body went cold.
My chest seized.
I couldn’t draw breath properly.
Yuno.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
Please.
Just be alive. That alone is enough.
＊＊＊
Lost, with nowhere left to go, I went home and simply stood, motionless, in the hollow grey room.
A musty, cold smell caught at my nose.
I hadn’t even kept up with taking out the trash properly. The worst.
When Yuno had been here, the room was orange-toned. Warm.
It had always smelled soft, and good.
At dinnertime, a small hand would tap, tap, tap at my shoulder.
I’d turn, and she’d be smiling that loose, soft smile, saying, “It’s ready.”
Trading nothing-conversations, the two of us would sit side by side, moving our chopsticks together.
What happened today, something delicious, something silly.
None of it mattered, and yet Yuno had always laughed and laughed through it, brightly.
Popping her head out from behind the sofa, pattering over, that soft, loose smile.
Why.
Of all the times for it, why do only the happy expressions keep surfacing now.
Hey, Yuno.
Where are you right now.
Are you eating properly?
Are you laughing, happy, somewhere?
These hollow questions kept circling through my head.
In the dim room, all I could do was sink down, collapsing.
＊＊＊
How much time had passed since then.
I lived through days of nothing but work, then home to sleep.
From early morning until late at night, I worked as if possessed.
Maybe some part of me simply didn’t want to be home.
Summer came.
Even under the blazing sun outside, the inside of the room stayed cold, dim, unchanged.
Autumn came.
Every time the dry wind rattled the window, I remembered that orange light. Alone in the dark room, I slurped instant cup ramen.
Before I knew it, winter had come.
Only the world kept turning, indifferent, on and on.
Yuno’s voice, her warmth, that smile.
All of it had soaked so deeply into the room that I could recall it with sickening clarity.
But now, it had vanished completely.