Episode One Hundred

“The rain’s getting heavier, isn’t it?”

Raindrops drummed against the waiting room window.
Checking the weather app again, I saw the forecast for the entire Izu Peninsula had changed to rain all day.
We’d actually planned to take the ferry to Hatsushima.
　Hatsushima is a prime tourist spot in Atami, a resort that’s incredibly photogenic.
But in this rain, the most I could likely manage was eating a seafood rice bowl.
　That’s appealing in itself, but I’d already had seafood rice bowls at Numazu Port. A dish piled high with glossy raw whitebait and raw sakura shrimp.
The moment it touched my tongue, the scent of the sea filled my mouth, followed by the aroma of freshly grated wasabi – a truly sublime experience. Still, it felt a bit sad that the pricey ticket would only get us that.

“It doesn’t look like stopping. Shall we catch an early Shinkansen back?”

“Ehh? I want to ride that photogenic swing.”

“Ibara, you’re banned from posting photos on SNS, right?”

“I won’t post it. Just keeping it as a memory.”

“Let’s come again sometime. Atami’s much closer than I thought.”

I sought agreement with my eyes. I thought Ibara would nod readily, being so straightforward.
But.

“No way. Let’s wait a bit longer. It might stop.”

The iPhone rain forecast showed rain symbols all day. It might ease off, but it didn’t look like stopping.
Yet, Ibara leaned forward, insisting.

“Come on, it’s alright, isn’t it?”

“…Fine.”

Our original plan was to be at Tokyo Station by evening. There was no reason to rush back.
　If Ibara wanted to wait, that was fine too.
Regular trains from Atami Station ran roughly every two hours. We’d missed the 10:30, so the next one was at noon. If it stopped by then, we might have time to look around a bit.
I looked up at the window.
The rain showed no sign of stopping, just as the forecast said.

“When I was a child, you know. If it rained on a school trip, I used to think it was my fault.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a rain girl.”

I’d always disliked the rain.
My name.
The capricious showers that fall and stop again, from late autumn to early winter, are called ‘shigure’.

“Shigure is such a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.”

It must have been when I was in primary school. I once asked my mother, who was cooking, why she’d given me that name.
　The tone was almost resentful, precisely because I’d been caught in one of those showers, my shoes soaked right through to the soles.
I’d expected some silly answer like “Because you were born on a rainy day” or “Because your father’s favourite dish is beef simmered in shigure sauce”.
But.
“Shigure,” my mother said, “is rain that falls at just the right time.”

‘Just the right time?’

‘Jiu, jiu.’

I wondered what ‘jiu’ meant and looked it up in the dictionary.
A blessing rain. A rain of mercy.
Taking the same sound, shigure.
Rain that falls at just the right time.
I remember being speechless at the answer, so different from what I’d imagined.
Though, truth be told, the rain that fell on my life was usually paired with bad memories, and I’d just grumble, “What’s so right about that?”
　But.
Looking back, it was also raining the night I met Ibara.
A late autumn shower.
That was the genuine article, a true ‘shigure’.
Having fled that sudden encounter, I paused in the downpour. Ibara caught up with me there.
The rain that changed my fate. A blessing.
Jiu.
For me, and for Ibara.

“I never liked my name, you know.”

Across the round café table, Ibara looked up at me.
Her eyes were moist in the humid air.
Feeling too embarrassed to meet her gaze directly, I shifted my eyes to the window outside.

“It’s pointlessly water-attributed, and I’ve always been a rain girl. I don’t have any good memories of rain.”

But.

“Still, thanks to the rain, I met Ibara. So now, I don’t dislike it quite so much.”

Only after the words slipped out did I realise how embarrassing they sounded.
This unusual sentimentality must surely be the magic of travel.
Feeling rather embarrassed, I cleared my throat to cover it up.

“What about you, Ibara?”

“Eh?”

“The origin of your name. Is it from a Grimm’s fairy tale, after all? Something fitting for a thorn bush—”

“I don’t know.”

Her emotionless voice made me gasp involuntarily.
I faced her.
Ibara was clutching a glass of Chirax soda, now almost empty.
Melting ice clinked coldly against the glass.

“…Ibara?”

“Ah.”

As if startled, Ibara flashed a smile.

“I’ve never heard about the origin of my name. So I don’t know.”

“…I see.”

“But I like it. It’s a good name, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“Ehehe.”

Ibara’s hand lay over mine, which had been resting on the table.

“I like that about you.”

“Right, right.”

“I like you, Shigure. I like you a lot.”

“Mm.”

“I want you to say ‘I like you too’ there.”

“Well…”

Then, Ibara’s fingers intertwined with mine.
The smooth feel never grew familiar, no matter how many times I touched it.

“Is that not alright?”

Ibara sweetly pleads with me, who’s conscious of the people around us. Cunning. Adorable.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. I suppose I have no choice.
I bring my mouth close to her ear and whisper softly.

†

In the end, the rain didn’t stop even into the afternoon.
After somehow persuading the sulking Ibara, we board the Kodama for the return journey.

“Ibara, sit by the window.”

“Didn’t I see the scenery on the way here?”

“Not that. You should try to get some sleep. I’ll stay awake.”

After all, yesterday… well, things happened, and we didn’t sleep as much as usual.

“Whoa, that just made my heart skip a beat.”

“Just sit down already. You’re bothering the other passengers.”

“Okay.”

I pushed Ibara further back. After confirming the seat behind us was empty, I reclined the seat.

“We’ll have to come back when it’s sunny. But summer’s too hot, so autumn… though that’s exam season.”

“Hmm…”

“Next year, then. To celebrate Ibara passing, or for a graduation trip. Or somewhere further afield?”

“Hmm… yeah…”

An unusually indecisive reply.
　But there was no need to decide anything right now.
Once exams were over and she was a university student, we could go anywhere.
Ibara slipped her Bluetooth earphones in and rested her head on my shoulder.
As the Shinkansen quietly began to move, gentle snoring soon reached my ears. I adjusted the angle of her cap so light wouldn’t hit her eyelids.

“Ah, the official ‘Charles’ account just posted a warning.”

　The sudden word startled me.
Three university students sat diagonally across from us. Feeling guilty, I couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation.

“They said not to ask about graduates at the handshake event.”

“Manager Motomura’s initial response was quick, eh?”

“Seriously, that’s insane. Asking Hiname-sama about Ibara-chan?”

“Don’t want weird buzz about our faves, right?”

“Yeah.”

I pushed down the brim of my cap, checked Ibara-chan was truly asleep, then opened my phone.
Checked the trends on social media.
The title of yesterday’s anime broadcast. A ruling party politician’s gaffe. A hashtag for corporate promotion. A major ad agency’s family feud.
Further down the trends, I found the source.

‘Someone asked my favourite about the graduate at the live event. Management, do your job.’

The post included a photo showing a woman. She was talking to Hiname-chan in costume.
Her back was turned, her face unseen.
But I knew. The clothes were the same.
No mistake. The woman in the photo was—
the older woman I’d met on the down-bound Shinkansen.