Episode 3

I met Tsumugi in the spring of my first year at university. The cherry blossoms were just past their peak but still holding on.

A small girl who barged straight into my space, at a time when I was getting by on the minimum necessary exchanges with classmates while otherwise staying entirely to myself. She must have been a little younger-looking back then, I think.

Hey. I forgot to do the assignment — let me copy yours.

Oh — hi. You’re Shiina-san, right? I mean, sure, but — why me?

That was how we met. I knew her face, but that’s no way to speak to someone you’re addressing for the first time. My first impression wasn’t great, I’d have to say.

She kept coming over regularly after that, and we became the kind of acquaintances who’d have lunch together in the canteen. Maybe I found her comfortable to be around because she dealt with me without particular consideration in either direction.

The full flowering of college life as a young woman — naturally, all manner of invitations came from her. Group blind dates, there’s someone who wants to meet you, trips away, going to look at summer clothes, and so on.

Watching me dodge every one of her invitations, she must have finally found it suspicious. There was one time she stepped into territory I hadn’t wanted her to enter.

What’s all that about, with you? I get not wanting to go places, but that — that fragile aura thing you’ve got going on, it annoys me.

Did something happen? — pinning me with a flat, searching look. I remember it clearly: the university canteen in the evening after lectures, nearly empty. The seat at the far end of the far corner by the window where the late sun came in.

I don’t remember exactly how much I said.

Something bad happened in high school, and since then I’ve been living quietly. I think that was about all I told her.

And yet she looked like something had clicked into place, and never asked again after that.

She’s a kind person, I thought.

The reason she’d spoken to me that first day was probably because the seat next to me happened to be empty. Because I looked like someone who did their assignments properly and would let her copy without making it a big thing. Harmless, in other words. That’s what I’d assumed.

But spending time with her gradually changed my thinking. She probably just couldn’t watch someone living as if they were already dead — and so she’d reached out a hand.

There’s almost nothing I can give back to a Tsumugi like that. She doesn’t seem to want for money, and she has plenty of friends. Whatever she needs, I probably don’t have it.

Even so — I’ve been worrying her for years. The least I can do is give her some peace of mind.

A few days ago I wouldn’t have thought this. Not the version of me from before all this.

◇

The temperature drops as evening comes but it’s still swelteringly hot. I’d been hoping not to feel this kind of heat until at least the end of June.

The day after my exchange with Tsumugi. I’m making my way to the place she specified. Not too far, but it’s a station I have no connection to — I walk the route with slightly hunched shoulders, following the navigation.

For a Saturday the neighbourhood is quiet, with few people about. The refined residential streets of large houses lined up one after another have a quality of wealth about them — everyone passing by seems to have money.

“Oh — I’m here already.”

The navigation announces I’ve arrived. But there’s nothing that looks like a restaurant. No sign, no indication of any kind.

Sorry, I think I’m here but I can’t find the place. Is there a landmark?

I look around and appeal to Tsumugi for help. If I keep wandering around I’m going to look suspicious.

Big white house with a garden visible from the entrance.

There are nothing but big white houses here. The nameplates, the exteriors — all much the same.

Irritated at her unhelpful directions, I look around at the nearby houses as casually as I can.

“Big white house. Garden visible from the entrance…”

There — found it. But there’s no sign, and it looks entirely like someone’s private home. There’s an intercom, but I’m too nervous to press it.

I’m standing there with my phone, making uncertain sounds, when a woman steps out through a large white door and catches my eye entirely.

The air seemed to clear for just a moment.

Translucent skin. Long limbs. A white blouse without a single crease, a black apron at the waist. No adornment of any kind — and yet the eye is drawn. A proud, clean-lined nose. Large eyes full of quiet confidence. There’s something familiar about her…

“You must be Takemi-san?”

A voice like being wrapped in something warm. A blessed appearance deserves a blessed voice. Just like her.

“Y-yes. How do you know my—”

“Please come in. Tsumugi is waiting.”