Prologue | Contents | Chapter 1 Part 2
April 23, 1991 (Heisei 3) – Tuesday
There’s a saying that goes, “One can only appreciate manners when their basic needs are met.” There’s also another saying: “Poverty dulls the wit.” In other words, if you exclude some saints, civility is secondary, to be considered only after filling your stomach. Indeed, it’s cruel to ask a man who will not see the sun rise the next day if he doesn’t catch the rabbit in front of his eyes to do anything more than put enough strength in his spear hand.
But of course, just because something is secondary doesn’t mean it should be completely dismissed. To pull out yet another popular proverb, “Man cannot live by bread alone.” These maxims are the legacies of people who lived in a variety of turbulent times. Being simple to understand and easy to accept, they are by definition, popular.
Now, reflecting on this topic, I find that it incorporates a serious problem, and it is no more a matter of happiness than anything else. From the moment we are born, do those whose basic needs are already met seek more resources to improve their civility, or do they strip it all away? Neither of these choices are natural or reasonable. A science fiction book I read in the past depicted a world where every need has been fulfilled. The inhabitants of that world have nothing to do, so they commit suicide by their own volition1. In the end, the malady of extravagance is undeniably a malady.
Since I’d been requested to talk about anything at all, I meandered aimlessly around that subject. I was never expecting the person who had put in that request to listen in earnest, and as if on cue, that person, or the girl called Sendou, uttered a single phrase indifferently.
“I suppose.”
That was a normal reaction for her, so I didn’t feel particularly annoyed.
Tachiarai sported a one-length haircut that sat exactly on her gray blazer. It was quite a rare hairstyle to have at this time, so it often drew stares from others. She’d been told many times by her girl friends to cut it, but as she put it, “I always wanted to have long flowing black hair since I was a wide-eyed kindergartner. If I were to cut my hair after growing it out for so long, it would come back as a ghost to haunt me.” She dutifully maintained her hair, so it was indeed the “long flowing black hair” she yearned for. She looked far too thin for her standing figure to be considered slender; her countenance was dark and stern, with traces of a sharp wit lurking beneath. If you put Tachiarai in a line of ten people and evaluated them, the other nine would probably feel out of place. She was tall, but was still a fist shorter than me, who was at average height for a boy. Though she didn’t exactly desire solitude, she gave off a detached air that made boys crazy for her, and was even more popular with girls by some accounts. As for why an average or below-average person like me was able to exchange words with her as friends, the reason was related to her nickname, Sendou.
April was about to end, but the cold had not yet retreated. Still, the spring showers decided to make their appearance, causing today to be exceptionally frigid. It wasn’t raining cats and dogs, but the precipitation showed no signs of stopping, so everyone was holding up an umbrella. Mine was an unimaginative black Western-style umbrella, while Tachiarai’s was a sinister crimson. Looking up at the wide walkway before us, I saw umbrellas of all designs and colors, as well as the people in blazers carrying them. They were students of our school, Fujishiba High School.
Just then, a girl holding a green checkered umbrella trotted past. After getting to a point two or three steps in front of us, she turned around and slightly lowered her head.
“Goodbye, Tachiarai-senpai!”
In response to that, Tachiarai gave a small wave back. With a forced smile on her lips, she waited for the girl to leave, then muttered.
“Guess she didn’t listen.”
Tachiarai was her real name, but being addressed by it displeased her for some reason. I was the one who gave her the nickname Sendou early on in the first year. Freshman nerves must have been a foreign concept to Tachiarai, for she would always nod off at her desk, whether it be during recess or during classes. She seemed to be peacefully rowing a boat as her head bobbed up and down, so I teased her by calling her a boatman, or Sendou-san. She seemed to really take a liking to that nickname, and we got on speaking terms after that. She would usually be the one listening to me, but I’d never heard a complaint in the two years that passed since then, she shouldn’t have felt too bored by my prattle. Additionally, Tachiarai would occasionally utter something profound, and I always looked forward to those moments.
Our path was blocked by a traffic light, causing uniformed students to pile up on the pavement. They were all in the same grade as us or juniors. We’d been constantly told that we would start being conscious of entrance examinations once we became third-year students, but there was no sense of urgency at this point in time. At the crowded space in front of the pedestrian crossing, Sendou’s crimson umbrella collided with another student’s green umbrella, splashing some drops of water onto the back of my neck. Tachiarai looked on blankly as I flicked off that water with my fingernails before making a suggestion as the light turned green.
“Shall we go by Fudou Bridge?”
She was probably saying that we could avoid the crowd by taking a different path than usual. I didn’t feel annoyed by the crowd, but agreed wordlessly anyway.
We entered a small street branching off from the main road, and the number of people around us decreased significantly. We immediately became the only students there. Private houses stood on either side of the street that didn’t even have a center line painted on, and large drops of rain plummeting down from their eaves continually battered our umbrellas. The wind was terribly cold. It should be about time for the cherry blossoms to start falling, but today’s weather was just really weird. I wasn’t urged to continue with my verbal essay from earlier, so I walked on silently. This wasn’t unusual when it was just the two of us, so the silence didn’t feel heavy. Every now and then, an automobile would drive past on the waterlogged road and cause water to spray in our direction. My pants and Tachiarai’s socks would get soaked each time that happened.
Fujishiba High School was located in Fujishiba City.
It supposedly had a population of 100,000, but in reality, it felt like there were more people than that. It was the regional hub for culture, economics and politics, and at the end of the day, was a provincial city2. It didn’t border the sea, but was next to an expanse of mountains to the north. The city had been built up by the timber industry, but like many other things, that had gone into decline without exception, and now tourism was the main focus. The unprecedented benefits of that spread to all parts of the city, and it was even rumored that some of the mountainous area to the north would be leveled to construct a new golf course.
The Atotsu River ran right through the city center, roughly splitting it up into the old town in the north and the new town in the south. There were buildings in the old town dating back to the early-modern era3, making up the lifeline of tourism for Fujishiba City. Thankfully, the city was not selected as a target during World War II, and experienced no major fires after the early-modern era ended. That was why the old town was able to be preserved.
A scooter flew out from a narrow alley. The two of us stood still to let it pass.
“About what you were talking about just now…”
“Hm? Ah, what about it?”
Though she was the one who restarted the conversation, Tachiarai did not look in my direction.
“I understand what you’re saying. You might even have a point. I don’t think you can generalize it like that, but it was quite an interesting argument.”
“Well, thanks.”
“But I don’t want to accept it.”
“…”
“I’m saying that I don’t like it.”
She didn’t explain why. Her statements were always a few words short, and I was used to it. With the scooter past us, we started walking again.
“That so? Well, pretend you didn’t hear it if you didn’t like it.”
I started hearing the heavy reverberations of the river’s rushing water, mixed with the pitter-patter of raindrops. Fujishiba High School was not located in the new town or the old town, but in the outskirts, which also had vast tracts of farmland. To travel between our houses and the school, Tachiarai and I had to cross the river. After passing through a narrow gap between old houses with wooden roofs where cats would probably prowl around at, we instantly reached Fudou Bridge. It was an old bridge, well supported by abutments made of blackened wood, and with its surface barely covered with asphalt. The bridge was only for pedestrians, so it was narrow. If we walked on it side-by-side, our umbrellas would collide.
We started crossing the bridge. As if its name was a joke4, it clearly started swaying when only the two of us were on it. The Atotsu River’s water level was higher than usual, thanks to the long-lasting rain. I accidentally nudged the handrail, and a small bit chipped off. I wouldn’t be surprised if it collapsed with a loud roar and got swept up by the river. If that happened while we were still crossing it, we would go to the afterlife without even an opportunity to protest against the unfairness of it all.
By chance, I looked up.
That was when I noticed someone on the other side of the bridge.
They were in front of the shutters of a photo studio that had closed down, simply standing next to an empty show window. They had a slim silhouette, but I couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Apparently having noticed that I was looking at something, Tachiarai also raised her head and peered at the opposite shore. She raised her voice so that it wouldn’t be drowned out by the sounds of the rushing river.
“…Looks like they’re taking shelter from the rain.”
This was a spring shower, so it would last for a long time, and it was freezing today. Yet that person didn’t seem to have an umbrella.
We arrived at the middle point of the bridge. The person seemed to be neither tall nor short. They had black hair that reached their shoulders, and a bag by their feet. It was an enormous black bag that one would have trouble wrapping their arms around. They seemed out of place for some reason. I tried thinking why, when it hit me. They were wearing a navy jacket, pink pants, a warm-colored striped shirt, and a red beanie. Their taste in clothes was a little strange.
“Sendou!”
“…”
“Do you see that person?”
“Yeah, didn’t I say that?”
We’d now crossed three-quarters of the bridge. I felt that the person on the other side caught our gaze. As hard as it was to believe, there was no one else but that person and the two of us, even on the left and right sides of the road parallel to the river.
I was certain now.
“They’re not Japanese… and not a Mongoloid.”
“A white person?”
“Looks like it.”
Tachiarai tilted her head slightly to the side.
“Still, it’s rash to assume that they’re not Japanese. They could be a naturalized citizen.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at them.”
Foreigners were not rare here. Though Fujishiba City was just a provincial city, foreigners of white, black or yellow skin could be frequently seen. That said, it was unusual for a singular foreigner to take shelter from the rain here, so far away from the city center.
That person looked to be huddling themselves up, and gazing at the sky to check the weather.
“They seem to be in a bind.”
“Seems like it.”
“Sendou, sorry, but could you walk me home?”
“…Moriya-kun.”
Tachiarai shot me an exasperated look.
“You’re being a busybody again. Your umbrella wasn’t cheap, right?”
She’d discerned what I wanted to do. This often happened, so I wasn’t surprised.
“Nah, it was cheap. I got it on sale.”
With a wry smile, I added, “It’s the least I can do.”
Tachiarai didn’t say, “It’s none of your business.”
We finished crossing the bridge, and started advancing to that person.
After getting a closer look, it seemed that they were female. She had black eyes, black hair, as well as a well-chiseled face, and not much in the way of stereotypical Caucasian features. Her nose bridge was remarkably high up on her slightly long face, and she had thick black eyebrows above her big eyes. Her face had fatigue seeped into it, and some dust from her travels accumulated there, but her facial features were still well-defined. I felt that she was charming rather than beautiful, but there was some indescribable strength around her eyes. As we approached, she stopped gazing at the sky and turned to look at us.
Tachiarai was following behind me. The other person seemed to be slightly on guard, probably suspicious of us. To put her at ease, I put on a smile. I licked the interior of my mouth even though it shouldn’t be dry in this rainy weather, then asked her a question in academic English that I’d never used in a real-life situation before.
“May I help you?”
I pronounced it decently, if I may say so myself.
However, only a mixture of alarm and confusion crossed the girl’s face, and she did not respond. When I took another step forward, she took a stance with her left hand thrust forward and her right hand pulled back, as if to say, “Bring it on!” She’d clearly misunderstood me. I tried one more time, but with a different phrase.
“Are you in trouble?”
But as expected, it didn’t work, and the other person seemed unsure of how to respond. With a confused look, she asked.
“Ko ste Vi?5”
“Hm… Do you need any help? What’s the matter?”
I repeatedly performed some gestures to ask if she was in trouble. At one point, I waved my umbrella without realizing it, causing Tachiarai to frown at the raindrops I’d splattered onto her as a result. After wiping off some water that had reached her shoulder, she let out a shallow sigh.
“Doesn’t look like it’s working.”
Tachiarai said, and the other girl turned to face her. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but she looked to have let her guard down a little. Did seeing someone of the same gender make her feel more relaxed? As I mulled about that, Tachiarai slipped in front of me, then spoke in our native language without trying to make up for her lack of amiability.
“…Shall we lend you an umbrella?”
In an instant, the girl’s countenance softened, and she lowered her head. She then replied in a slightly nasally voice.
“Thank you very much. I would be grateful if you lend me an umbrella. Thank goodness one of you can speak Japanese.”
…It must be a trick. As I stood there dumbfounded, Tachiarai turned back to look at me with a weird expression on her face, as if she was trying to suppress her mirth.
“It’s rash to assume that she speaks English just because she’s a foreigner, and it’s also rash to assume that she can’t understand Japanese. I won’t hold it against you, though.”
Thinking back, Tachiarai must have deduced that the other girl could understand Japanese from her change in attitude towards the words, “Doesn’t look like it’s working.” But even so!
Apparently having understood what Tachiarai said to me, the girl laughed.
“You can also speak Japanese, right?”
I spoke so rapidly it might seem that I was taking it out on her.
“Of course. To be precise, all I know is Japanese. My English is not up to scratch.”
“I do not understand English either.”
“Your Japanese is great.”
“I still have a lot to learn.”
She smiled again as she answered, causing her to appear two or three years younger, and that strength in her eyes to be replaced with liveliness. I was relieved to see that expression in this gloomy spring rain. The words naturally flowed from my mouth.
“Where did you come from?”
“Where?”
Ah, umm…
“Which country are you from?”
The girl nodded in understanding, but for some reason took a while to reply.
“I am from Jugoslavija.”
“Yugo… what?”
Tachiarai cut in.
“Yugoslavia, right?”
“Da. Socijalistika Federativna Republika Jugoslavija.”
It was a country I’d never heard of before. No, on second thoughts, the name did ring a bell. The number of countries I’d never heard of a single time in my entire life was probably next to zero. But which part of the world was that country in?
“Sendou, you know it?”
Tachiarai was academically proficient to the point that she could pursue any options she wanted after graduating from high school, but her response was vague.
“Depends on what you mean by ‘know’.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“…Eastern Europe.”
“Eastern Europe? You mean like Finland?”
“That’s in Northern Europe. It’s near countries like Bulgaria, I think.”
A map of Europe appeared in my head. Starting from the west, there is the Iberian Peninsula with Portugal and Spain. Past the Pyrenees is France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and Switzerland. To the south is Italy and the small countries near it, and to the west we have Austria and Poland. Further west of that…
Strange, the map in my head jumped straight to the Middle East. Israel, Iraq, Iran, Kuwait. I happened to remember those names only because of the Gulf War that broke out at the start of the year. I had no memory of the area in between, as if it had slipped through the gaping hole in my mind. And where did Greece go?
“Eastern Europe, huh. Eastern Europe…”
“Uh, Moriya-kun, it might be better to call it Central Europe.”
Tachiarai made a correction that I couldn’t imagine to bear any significance, but the other girl immediately waved her hands.
“Thank you for being considerate, but Eastern Europe is fine. I don’t like the west… Hm, I don’t really like the west?”
“Did you mean, ‘I don’t particularly like the west’? So you don’t hate it either?”
“Da!”
She ecstatically yelled a syllable that wouldn’t normally be heard on its own in Japan. She was strangely joyful about it, and I was infected by her energy.
That said…
“I see, so that’s why English is completely foreign to you… well, anyway, please use this.”
I offered her my umbrella. Naturally, it was still raining, but Tachiarai showed no indication that she would cover me with hers. Having no choice, I borrowed the space under the eaves next to the Yugoslavian girl. She accepted the umbrella before bowing her head again, more courteously than before.
“Thank you very much. It is a great help.”
Her gaze dropped to the umbrella in her hands.
“…How do I return this?”
“Ah, it’s fine, you can have it. Umbrellas and books don’t come back once loaned out.”
“That is an interesting way of thinking. Well then, thank you again.”
She bowed again.
Incidentally, my umbrella was made for men, so it was enormous. However, comparing it with her and the bag at her feet, I had to admit that just one such umbrella probably wouldn’t provide ample protection from the rain. Wouldn’t it be cruel to let her push through the famous Japanese spring rain front while lugging such a heavy bag with her thin arms? The legs of her pink pants were already soaked.
Well, I’d already been called a busybody by Tachiarai. A bit more meddling wouldn’t hurt. With that thought, I asked.
“Where will you be headed to next?”
But that question caused her to sink into silence, her brows furrowed. She’d displayed this behavior earlier, so perhaps my phrasing was too polite and roundabout for her to understand. I switched to a more direct question.
“Where are you going now?”
“…”
“Was that too difficult?”
She shook her head. So people from Yugoslavia also shake their heads when they don’t understand something. Or do we do that in Japan only because of European cultural influence?
“No, I can understand your Japanese, but I do not know how to answer.”
“Are you lost?”
Tachiarai asked, but the Yugoslavian girl shook her head again.
“No. Um, it is a long story, but if I were to put it simply…”
She fell silent for a short moment, probably searching for the most appropriate words to say, then continued.
“There is nowhere for me to go.”
Tachiarai and I exchanged glances. Was she a vagrant from Eastern Europe? We must have been making some weird faces, for the girl tried to take back what she said by waving her hand as if she were swatting away smoke from a cigarette.
“Basically, uh, due to certain circumstances, I am at a dilemma, and I do not know where I can go. It is a distressing situation.”
She spoke with an unusually formal diction. But perhaps that was to be expected when using a language other than one’s mother tongue, though someone like me who can only use my mother tongue cannot pass judgment either way. I lowered my voice so that only Tachiarai could hear it.
“What do we do?”
Asking Tachiarai was definitely a mistake. Her reply was exactly as I’d expected.
“Do whatever you like, Moriya-kun.”
“I’d lose sleep if we leave her like this.”
“That’s troubling. Not being able to sleep is the worst.”
“Could you stick around for just a little longer?”
“Oh? Didn’t you want me to walk you home?”
I wrung my hands as an expression of gratitude, then turned back to the Yugoslavian girl. There was a scowl on my face, but that was because I was trying to hide my embarrassment.
“In Japan, we have a saying that goes, ‘We’ve already embarked on the boat’.”
“Already embarked on what?”
The girl looked perplexed, but instead of answering her, I pointed at an alley next to us.
“This isn’t a place to stand and talk. If we go through here, we’ll get to a shopping street. We can get a nice hot drink, and if you don’t mind, please tell us about your situation.”
“It looks like he wants to help you,” Tachiarai added helpfully.
I wondered if she might become suspicious upon hearing my suggestion, but against my expectations, the girl lightly lowered her head, seemingly not having put any thought into it.
“I would appreciate that very much.”
I must have earned her trust by giving her the umbrella, for she even allowed me to carry her bags like a porter, a light smile on her face.
After passing through the alley, we entered a cafe. To be honest, it was not one that I would like to patronize frequently. Too many photos of cars and ships were hung haphazardly on the walls, giving the shop a somewhat tacky feel, and I didn’t really appreciate how vociferous the conversations between the manager and the regular customers were. Most importantly, the sandwiches were awful. However, this was the closest cafe to the photo studio we were at earlier.
Since it was a rainy evening, the three of us were the only customers in the shop. We definitely looked a little worse for wear, but there were no warm towels for us to wipe our drenched faces with. The Yugoslavian girl removed her red beanie, then flicked off some drops of water from her black fringe. From the looks of it, her hair looked a little stiff. Only Tachiarai had a russet handkerchief which she used to stroke her shoulders.
For now, we made ourselves comfortable with some coffee. There should also be coffee in Yugoslavia, for the girl took a sip without hesitation.
“Kafa in Japan is thin,” she commented.
Hearing that, I took another sip from my cup.
“…Seems normal to me.”
“If you think this is thin, Yugoslavia’s coffee must be a lot thicker.”
“Yes. Also, this is quite bitter.”
So Yugoslavia’s coffee is thicker and less bitter compared to Japan’s coffee… Just what kind of coffee is that?
But coffee was not the problem at hand.
Now that our bodies, chilled by the April rain, were slightly warmed up, I broached the subject.
“So, you… no, that doesn’t sound right. What should we call you?”
The girl grinned.
“Please, call me Maja.”
Maja… Maja… I tried muttering her name under my breath. That certainly wasn’t a Japanese name. In my head, I linked that name to the white-skinned girl before my eyes. Oh right, there was something I almost forgot to do. After consciously clearing my throat, I corrected my posture.
“Maja-san, I’m Moriya Michiyuki. Mo-ri-ya, Mi-chi-yu-ki. Please call me Moriya.”
“I’m Tachiarai Machi. You can call me Machi or Sendou.”
After the two of us introduced ourselves in sequence, Maja looked intently at us. She pointed at me.
“Moriya-san.”
She then pointed at Tachiarai and said, “Machi-san. Alright, I have remembered your names. I will not forget.”
Great. I took a swig of coffee.
“So Maja-san, what are you troubled by? If it’s a simple matter, we might be able to help. Do you mind telling us?”
I kept in mind to use simple Japanese as much as possible, but realized that it was actually not as easy as I thought it would be. I never consciously separated speech into “special” and “normal”, anyway. The parable of a centipede tripping over its own legs flitted across my mind. In the first place, Maja’s conversational Japanese abilities seemed sufficient for her to understand what I was saying, so I probably didn’t have to go out of my way to simplify it for her. Thankfully, the conversation went smoothly, so my efforts weren’t in vain.
“Alright. Uh, I will first talk about myself.”
With that preface, Maja started expounding her situation.
“Yugoslavia is not a rich country. That is why we try to learn about rich countries and countries with plentiful resources. That is my father’s job. When I was a lot younger, I followed him around and went to all sorts of countries.
“My father just came to Japan, and I was supposed to stay with his friend for two months. However, when I arrived at this city, I learned that they had passed away. That is the distressful situation I was talking about.”
“What about your father?”
“Not the capital, uh… but he is in the biggest provincial capital.”
Excluding Tokyo, the biggest provincial capital would be…
“…Osaka?”
“Da! That one.”
“Why don’t you go to Osaka?”
It seemed like an obvious choice, but Maja flatly denied it.
“I cannot. While my father works, I should study and live in this country. That is the promise I had with him. I cannot go back to him now, no matter what. When I go to Osaka is when I go back to Yugoslavia.”
“…I see.”
As expected, her usage of the Japanese language was weird in some areas, but I could understand her circumstances. I could also tell that Maja was somewhat stubborn. Instead of being caught in the rain with no destination in mind, she should have compromised her principles and gone to her father. That said, her spirit was something to be admired…
In any case, Maja’s problem was that she basically needed to secure some accommodation.
“Who were you supposed to stay with here?”
“A person called Ichiya Taizou.”
“Couldn’t you ask to stay with that person’s family?”
I deliberately didn’t use the phrase “bereaved family” since I didn’t want to confuse her.
But Maja shook her head again.
“Ichiya Taizou did not have any family.”
Nothing could be done about that, then.
While reaching out for my coffee, I whispered to Tachiarai.
“Should we introduce her to a guesthouse?”
“Do you know anywhere cheap? Based on what she said, she doesn’t have much money on her.”
“In the end, it always comes down to money, huh…”
After nodding at my statement, Tachiarai went straight to the point and asked, “Maja-san, what’s your upper limit for one day of rent?”
“Sorry, upper limit? Rent?”
She could have been more considerate with her choice of words… With that thought, I corrected her from the side.
“She means, how much can you pay for one day of staying at a place?”
Maja nodded three or four times, considered for a while, then slightly lowered her eyes.
“It might not be enough, but about one thousand yen.”
We exchanged looks. One thousand yen was impossible no matter what. We would have to search with gongs and drums6 for a room at 4000 yen a night, without meals. Probably having understood the situation, Maja’s countenance clouded over.
“Is it impossible?”
She might barely be able to scrape by if she did some part-time work, but even as a naive high school student, I knew that a foreigner without an employment visa would not be allowed to work in Japan. On top of that, I’d heard of people who worked regardless of that, and people who let such people work, but there was no way a high school student like myself would have those connections. In the first place, if Maja was telling the truth, her father was a government affiliate. Getting her to work illegally would be a terrible idea.
“I suppose we’re powerless to help.”
Tachiarai quickly threw in the towel.
However, I didn’t feel like giving up just yet. Even though I knew we were powerless, I wasn’t going to admit it so easily. Basically, we needed some accommodation facility that was either free or charged a small fee to stay at. Hotels and inns were out of the question. It would also be difficult to find a guesthouse under those conditions. What about a youth hostel? But for a two-month stay and one thousand yen a day…
Hang on, did it have to be a facility?
If not, it was actually quite a simple matter. I put on a large smile and turned to Tachiarai.
“Sendou.”
“What’s up with that creepy face?”
Just grin and bear it…
“Are there any spare rooms in your house?”
“For a home stay?”
She asked, then instantly continued.
“My house won’t work. It’s not that I’m stingy, but we just don’t have the space… But what about you, Moriya-kun?”
My house, huh. I was about to say that it was fine after only a small amount of consideration, but given that I’d asked Tachiarai, I must have subconsciously known that it would be impossible to let Maja stay at my house too. Two or three days might be fine, but two whole months was no trivial matter. In the first place, I couldn’t make any such suggestions in my house.
Were there any other options?
“Uh… did you think of something?”
“Please give us a moment.”
Essentially, we needed a person who would accept Maja, and had the physical space in their house to let her stay there. Did such an ideal person even exist?
I could feel my brows furrowing as I sipped some coffee and ended up draining the entire cup. I continued holding on to the empty cup and fiddled with it. Were we really powerless to help?
“Izuru.”
Tachiarai abruptly spoke.
“Hm?” I said.
Tachiarai replied as if she were talking to her coffee cup.
“I think Izuru would take her in. You know Izuru, right?”
I nodded. That made sense. Shirakawa Izuru was indeed a good idea.
Shirakawa’s family ran a ryokan named “Kikui” in this tourist city of Fujishiba. It wasn’t so esteemed to be considered a honjin7, but was on the level of a waki-honjin8. Shirakawa, who lived there, was so kind-hearted that one would worry if she might get taken advantage of. She would at least hear us out. Shirakawa and I were both on the student committee, and we often helped each other out there. But I had no idea that Tachiarai had been in touch with Shirakawa. By the way, the nickname Sendou originated from the fact that she slept like a boatman, but it had nothing to do with the phrase “Passing through Shirakawa on the night ferry9”.
“You’re close with Shirakawa?”
“I wouldn’t say we’re close, but we’re acquainted.”
“We’ll just need to make a phone call, then. I just hope she’s back home already.”
“It should be fine, I think.”
“Could you ask her?”
Tachiarai stopped moving for an instance, then looked up with a hum.
“…The person with the highest chance of success should be the one to negotiate, right?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Then you should be the one to do it, Moriya-kun.”
“Yeah.”
I nodded, before realizing what she’d just said.
“Wait, why me?”
Tachiarai returned an uncharacteristic vague smile.
“I owe Izuru a favor. It’s a little hard to make a request of her now.”
Interesting. I didn’t know what was going on between them, but it was also difficult for me to ask her. I’d never given Shirakawa a phone call before, after all.
“Sorry, but could you do it?”
Since Tachiarai of all people said those words to me, I had no choice but to comply. Then again, it made sense since I was the one who brought up the idea of helping out in the first place. I addressed Maja, who had been looking on intently at our exchange.
“I’ll go outside to make a phone call.”
With those words, I stood up from the sofa and walked to a public telephone to the side of the cafe’s entrance. I retrieved two ten-yen coins from my wallet.
Ah, I need to first figure out her phone number. It’ll probably be quicker if I search my phone book for her address.
The call connected to Kikui in three rings. Their business telephone seemingly doubled as their house telephone, as I got such a response even though the number was under Shirakawa’s name:
“Thank you for calling. This is the traditional ryokan Kikui.”
I faltered for a moment, but I recognized that deep, calm voice before. Still, I maintained my manners.
“I apologize for interrupting you during your busy schedule. I am Moriya from Fujishiba High School. Has Izuru-san returned?”
“…Moriya-kun?”
“So you’re helping out with the ryokan? That’s admirable.”
The voice on the other end of the receiver replied shyly.
“It’s nothing admirable. But it’s rare for you to call me, Moriya-kun.”
“I think it’s the first time.”
“Is that so? Maybe… so, did something happen?”
“Yeah. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
After that preface, I cleared my throat, then summarized Maja’s situation. Like me, Shirakawa seemed to only know the name Yugoslavia and nothing else about it.
I told her about our chance meeting with Maja, about how she lost her only point of contact in this country, and how she didn’t have enough money to pay for rent. Shirakawa listened attentively, giving agreeable responses every now and then.
Shirakawa was a good-natured person, and it was difficult to find anything bad to say about her. But if I had to point out something about her that ticked me off, it would be that she was a little slow. She would sometimes be surprised when one thing led to a very obvious outcome. However, when I said that it was impossible for me to take care of her accommodation, she managed to understand what I was getting at.
“Basically…”
Shirakawa said after I finished speaking.
“…You’re asking if I can put up this Maja-san in my house, right?”
I couldn’t immediately answer in the affirmative, though that was indeed the main point of this conversation, in general.
I fell into thought for a while.
“Yes, but of course, you have no obligation to do this. Moreover, this is Maja’s problem, so it’s not exactly my place to make request on her behalf. That’s why I’m not asking for too much. Think of this as just an introduction to the problem, and it’d be great if you could think of possible solutions.”
I could hear a light chuckle that sounded like an exhalation of air. Whenever Shirakawa laughed, she would do so quietly, with a hand covering her mouth.
“That’s so typical of you, Moriya-kun.”
“…”
Was that a compliment? Probably not.
“Umm, can that person speak Japanese?”
“Yeah.”
I added after thinking for a moment.
“Her pronunciation of double consonants and the ‘n’ sound can be hard to hear sometimes, but there should be no problems talking with her normally.”
“It’s good enough if we can understand each other.”
Shirakawa then continued without a hint of hesitation in her voice.
“Alright, I understand the situation. I’d love to help her out, but there’s also the inn, so I need to discuss this with my family. If they agree to take her in, she’ll probably have to help a little with work. Call me again in thirty… no, twenty minutes. Oh, and since it’s raining like this, I’ll try to get a car to pick her up. Where are you now?”
I told her the name of the cafe.
“We came here once with the student committee, do you remember?”
“Yup, that’s the shop where the sandwiches were seriously…”
Shirakawa seemed quite unwilling to complete her sentence, so I decided to give her some assistance. I spoke in a small voice so the tough-looking manager wouldn’t hear me.
“Awful.”
Shirakawa laughed again.
“Alright, see you later, then.”
The public telephone returned a ten-yen coin.
“How did it go?” Tachiarai asked, but I instead of answering I talked to Maja.
“Maja-san.”
Due to either brevity or optimism, she was calmly savoring the un-Yugoslavian coffee. Upon being called out to, she finally put down her cup.
“Da.”
“I was on the phone with someone who might let you stay with her.”
“Yes.”
“If that person says it is okay for you to stay, it will cost almost no money, but you will probably have to do some work, and you won’t be paid for that. Are you fine with that?”
Without a speck of unease, Maja instantly nodded.
“I prefer it that way… I am very grateful. Thank you so much.”
“It’s settled, then. Let’s wait a while before that person answers.”
I sank deeply into the sofa and reached out for my coffee cup, but I’d already completely drained it earlier.
Even considering the fact that the communication between us was not exactly perfect, Maja’s attitude towards the two of us since we met at the photo studio seemed quite relaxed. Though she’d gotten in a difficult problem in which the person she was supposed to meet at a foreign country passed away, she did not look like she was, in her words, in a distressing situation. Perhaps her ability to keep her composure was tied to the existence of a lifeline in her father at Osaka, but it was more likely underpinned by her experiences. If so, even if we hadn’t poked our noses into her problem, she might have been able to figure something out on her own. Or did she predict, based on her experiences, that people like us would appear?
While I was having those thoughts, the person in question, Maja, was opening up to Tachiarai, who lacked warmth, but wasn’t a harsh person. As I thought, it was easier for Maja to converse with another girl.
“Machi-san, how old are you?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Eight, teen?”
This time, Tachiarai was considerate. She opened her palms.
“Ten.”
She then folded two fingers from her left hand.
“Eight.”
“Ah, Osamnaest. Eight, teen. That is one year older than me.”
So Maja is seventeen? That’s the same age as me. I thought she was younger.
“Machi-san, you are, uhh, a high school student, right?”
“Yeah, and on top of that I’m a preparatory student10.”
“Preparatory student? Is that different from a high school student?”
“It’s a subset of high school students.”
She said that without thinking.
“You should refrain from using special expressions.”
The amount of consideration Tachiarai put into her words was definitely far from enough. Faced with a term she didn’t understand, Maja frowned, just like a Japanese person would. However, before the questions could pile up in front of her, Tachiarai asked.
“If you’re seventeen, what about school, Maja-san?”
Maya answered proudly with a grin.
“I go to school when I am in Yugoslavia. I have also gone to school in other countries, but right now, you two are my school.”
Upon hearing that, I couldn’t help but recall the three schools I’d attended thus far.
“How many times have you been in Japan?”
“This is my first time.”
“First time? How did you learn Japanese?”
“I had a Japanese friend in Češka Slovačka11. I taught her Yugoslavian words, and she taught me Japanese words.”
Was that really enough to master a language from an entirely different family12? No, there was no need to doubt her, because it was a fact that Maja had been using the Japanese language effectively. That brought to mind linguistic genii, like Rawlinson13 or Champollion14, though she probably wasn’t on their level.
I had nothing else to do just listening to them, so I ordered a second cup of coffee.
“I hardly know a thing about Yugoslavia. What kind of country is it?”
Maja tilted her head quizzically at that question.
“What kind? That is quite a difficult question.”
It was certainly too abstract. Also realizing that, Tachiarai added.
“For example, does it have a lot of mountains, or is it hot?”
Even when the question’s scope was narrowed down, Maja was still unable to answer it smoothly.
“Uhh, there are all kinds of areas. There are areas with many mountains, but there are also areas with many islands, and areas with lots of plains.”
“What about in general? For Japan the set phrases would be ‘mountainous country’ or ‘island nation’.”
“I see. If we are talking about my country, it has many mountains.”
That was a strange answer. Tachiarai had been talking about Maja’s country, or the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Was that wrong? I voiced that doubt.
“Your country?”
Maja nodded.
She then stuck out her right hand with its palm open and lifted up one finger from her left.
“I understand that many people in Japan who do not know this, but there are six countries in Yugoslavia.”
“…I see.”
Tachiarai promptly understood, but it took me a bit more time to digest. The “Federal” part of the name must mean a federation of states, but those states cannot be considered as sovereign.
“Are they like prefectures?”
“Compared to Japan’s prefectures, Yugoslavia’s Republika are a lot bigger.”
“Like America’s states?”
Maja slightly shook her head.
“Sorry, I do not know much about Amerika. That is my older brother’s job.”
A light smile drifted onto her face, as if she’d just remembered something amusing.
“Oh, right. Machi-san, Moriya-san, do you know about the Republika, Crna Gora15?”
I shook my head honestly. The map in my head had a blank patch of space between Austria and Israel, so there was no way I would know. Tachiarai wouldn’t know either.
Maja leaned forward as if she were about to tell us a secret.
“Not knowing is not good. To tell you the truth, Crna Gora is at war with Japan. There was a proper Declaration of War.”
“Isn’t that in the past?”
“No… it is still ongoing. There was no treaty to end that war.”
As though she was bewitched by a fox, Maja winked.
“That is why Japanese people should not go to Crna Gora. When a friend from Crna Gora came to my house, I was told that going to Japan would be dangerous. Prisoners of war must be treated in accordance to the treaty, right?”
She giggled.
“…Sendou, did you know this?”
“No idea.”
It was probably some kind of joke, but I couldn’t tell what the punchline was. That said, there must be some truth to it since a person from the warring nation (or the federation that includes that nation) said so. Maja just kept on smiling, and didn’t seem like she would explain her statement.
She continued.
“And as for whether it is hot? It is cold. To tell you the truth, I feel hot now. It is a lot colder in Yugoslavia.”
Maja took off the jacket she’d been wearing, placed it at her side, and put her beanie down on her lap. I thought those clothes were a little thick for April, but it was especially cold today. If she felt hot in this weather, the cold in Yugoslavia must be a lot harsher.
“Also, there is little rain, compared to Japan. I am surprised by how much rain there is in Japan… but it seems that what my Japanese friend said was wrong. She thought it was strange that people in Yugoslavia do not hold umbrellas, but it does not look like people in Japan hold umbrellas either.”
…She didn’t seem to be joking this time.
While I made that assessment, Tachiarai and I replied at the same time.
“No, people do hold umbrellas.”
“We do hold umbrellas, though.”
That joint counterattack caused Maja to blink twice, but the smile was quickly restored on her face.
“I worded it badly. What I meant to say was, since there is little rain in Yugoslavia, many people do not carry an umbrella. My friend found that to be strange, and she said that everyone in Japan carries an umbrella. That does seem to be true. However, people in Japan are used to the rain, so they may not use an umbrella even when they have one.”
Ah, I see, that makes sense.
…No, it doesn’t! When it’s raining, you would definitely hold an umbrella if you have one. No matter how much it rains in Japan, not holding up an umbrella in those circumstances cannot be seen as natural.
Tachiarai was also skeptical about that.
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
“So, are you saying that there are people who do not do that?”
“…Rather, Maja-san, how did you get that impression?”
As expected, there was a reason for that. Maja gave a small nod and started her explanation.
“It was yesterday when I arrived in this city. After learning that Ichiya Taizou had passed away, I spent the night at the train station.
“When I woke up this morning, it was still dark, and it was still raining. I lost my umbrella in Osaka, so I felt I was in trouble.
“I looked towards the city, and I saw a man come out from a housing complex in front. He had an umbrella in his hands, but he ran in the rain without holding up his umbrella. That made me feel impressed. I thought that Japanese people are so used to the rain that they do not need to hold one up in this level of rain. It was interesting, in a philosophical way. Now that I have come to Japan, I think that I must learn the philosophy here.
“What do you think? Was I wrong?”
Her face filled with confidence, Maja looked at me and Tachiarai in turn.
Her use of the phrase “housing complex” was strikingly inaccurate. The area near the south exit of Fujishiba Station was undeveloped compared to the area near the north exit. There was no housing complex, only some apartments. Maja must be referring to those apartments. The problem was with the umbrella.
Maja couldn’t have possibly mistaken something else as an umbrella, right? If it was just a few drops of rain, opening up an umbrella might be not worth the trouble. People with laid-back personalities would think that way. However, this rain had been going on for the past few days at quite a high intensity, and this morning’s rain was far from an idyllic drizzle. In the first place, if that man was running, it probably meant that he didn’t want to get drenched.
While I was at a loss for words, Tachiarai brought her cup of coffee to her mouth in a disinterested manner, a stark contrast to the state she was in just a moment ago.
“Well, if that’s what you saw, I don’t think you’re mistaken.”
I had a hunch about what that attitude meant.
Tachiarai had figured out what it was that Maja actually saw.
In the past two years, Tachiarai had, on multiple occasions, explained away quirky situations, in a manner that made it seem obvious, like there was nothing weird about them in the first place… no, that wasn’t accurate. She’d understood the truth behind those situations, and had never explained them a single time. She never did explanations or clarifications, to a point that I even started wondering if it was out of spite. But that probably wasn’t the case. That was just what Tachiarai Machi was like.
That said, that was only how she acted around me or other people she was comfortable with. Would it be fine to maintain that attitude towards a visitor from another country? With that thought, I spoke in a small voice.
“Sendou.”
“What?”
“What Maja saw, do tell it to her.”
Tachiarai smiled with only her lips.
“An inversion16? Didn’t you say that I should refrain from using special expressions in front of Maja-san?”
“I was talking to you. You realized why that man wasn’t holding up his umbrella, didn’t you?”
“Oh? Why do you think so?”
“Don’t change the subject at this point.”
With another smile, she turned to me.
“If you want me to tell Maja-san, why don’t you tell her, Moriya-kun? If you don’t know, why don’t you try figuring it out on your own?”
You have a point. It does make sense that if I want to do something, I should do it myself. But that isn’t how human relationships work. Shouldn’t you be a little more, how do I put it, flexible, in times like these?
Even though I knew it would be useless, such a rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue. But before I could voice it, Maja cut into our conversation.
“There were a few words I did not understand, but… are you basically saying that what I saw was something very strange, and we need to figure out what it is?”
I could only nod in response to her question.
“I see. And do you not know what it is at all, Machi-san, Moriya-san?”
I directed a cold stare at Tachiarai, who took it head on. Even she wasn’t made of wood or stone, and couldn’t help but appear a little ashamed. With a small sigh, she asked Maja a question.
“Maja-san, after you saw that man, you didn’t look in that direction for a while, right?”
Maja opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“How did you know? A public security officer came over and asked me some questions.”
“…Have you been to China?”
“Right again! How did you know?”
“We don’t usually call them ‘public security officers’ in Japan, we call them ‘police officers’. But that aside, after you saw that man, he should have immediately run back the same way.”
After saying that, Tachiarai put her index and middle fingers together, and desultorily pointed them at me.
“And he’ll tell you the rest.”
“Sendou!”
Tachiarai turned to face me, but this time she wasn’t smiling. With her chin slightly tilted down, her clear eyes gazed at me from under her drooping fringe.
“Moriya-kun. I was thinking of saying this earlier. I don’t hate how self-reliant you are, but I don’t like how dependent on others you can be.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction?”
“To you, maybe. Listen, this is like an appetizer in a full course. It can’t be that you really don’t know, right? You just haven’t thought about it yet, right?”
I was at a loss for words. Indeed, I hadn’t given it any thought yet.
If she knew as much, there was no choice. As Maja looked on with anticipation, her eyes wide open, I folded my arms and started thinking, not wanting to let her down.
As frustrating as it was to admit it, Tachiarai’s remark that I didn’t know because I hadn’t thought about it was right on the mark. I was able to come up with an answer I was confident in without much hassle. I unfolded my arms.
“Maja-san.”
“Da.”
At that moment, I noticed that Maja’s hands were gripping onto things that weren’t there before. In her left hand was a notebook with a lock and a dark brown cover. In her right hand was a ball-point pen that looked like the ones you could buy for 100 yen at a convenience store. Come to think of it, she seemed to be leaning forward a little more now.
“Please start whenever you like.”
“…”
“…Is something wrong?”
“What’s that notebook?”
I pointed, and Maja’s gaze fell to the notebook.
“This is a notebook, right? There are many things I do not know the names of.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, there isn’t anything worth recording.”
While she’d claimed to be completely ignorant with regards to the English language, Maja waved her index finger to the left and right, like an American would.
“Ni… No.”
‘What do you mean, no?”
“That is for me to decide.”
I forced a smile. Well, I suppose I don’t really mind.
After theatrically clearing my throat, I started explaining.
“Umm, anyway, let me begin. Not holding up an umbrella while it’s raining in Japan is certainly not normal. It’s clear that the man wasn’t wearing a raincoat; you wouldn’t miss something like that. He didn’t hold up an umbrella even though it was necessary for him to do so. Why is that?”
Maja groaned and sank into thought, but I pressed on without waiting for her response.
“To put it simply, the man couldn’t hold up his umbrella. It was broken.”
I glanced at Tachiarai from the corner of my eye, only to see her gaze out the window, a nonchalant look on her face. I might be expecting too much from her, but she would have probably corrected me if what I said was clearly off the mark. That made me feel a little relieved.
On the other hand, Maja didn’t seem convinced, though that was to be expected.
“That is strange. Why was that man holding a broken umbrella early in the morning?”
I let out a small laugh.
“Maja-san, I don’t know how it’s done in Yugoslavia, but in most parts of Japan, trash is taken out in the mornings.”
“…Trash? Um, you mean, things you don’t need?”
“Exactly, like a broken umbrella. The man went outside in the morning just to take out the trash. Collection of combustible trash is less frequent than collection of non-combustible trash, so it’s better to take it out when you have the chance… yes, even when you don’t have an umbrella and might get wet in the process.”
The man stepped out for a short while to bring out some unwanted items. Reframing the situation in that way made his actions no longer seem that eccentric. It could be said that Maja seeing that as a Japanese peculiarity was quite typical of a foreigner.
Maja let out a deep sigh.
“Hmm… Is that so? If that is the reason, I can understand it. Thank you, I was almost mistaken.”
Deeply impressed, she nodded a few times while letting her pen glide across the surface of her notebook. Was there really something she thought to be worth noting down? I looked at Tachiarai again, but like earlier, she was spacing out. It was even possible that not a word had passed through her ears after she’d tossed the baton at me.
At that moment, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the distance.
“…It’s here.”
What Tachiarai saw immediately came into my view. A white, light wagon car approached us in the rain. With its hazard lights turned on, it slowed down and eventually stopped in front of the cafe. A person alighted from the front passenger seat carrying an ultramarine umbrella. It was Shirakawa Izuru. The sleeves of her blue turtleneck almost completely covered the tips of her fingers as she held onto the umbrella.
Shirakawa entered, causing the cowbell at the door to ring. She grinned upon seeing me, and beamed when she caught sight of Tachiarai sitting next to me.
“Ah, Machi, you’re here as well!”
“Sorry for the unreasonable request.”
Shirakawa faced me as she shook drops of water from her umbrella onto the entrance mat.
“Sorry for making you wait.”
“Rather than making us wait…”
I glanced at my wristwatch. Thirty minutes had passed since the phone call. I must have forgotten about the time while talking with Maja.
“Didn’t you tell me to call again in twenty minutes during the phone call just now? What are you doing here?”
“…Did I really say that?”
“Yep.”
“Did you call?”
“No, I forgot.”
“That’s fine, then. No, not really. Sorry.”
She lowered her head. I didn’t mean to blame her, especially when her mistake didn’t throw a wrench in the plans or anything.
After noticing Shirakawa, Maja turned to me.
“Moriya-san, who is this?”
Shirakawa asked the same question.
“Moriya-kun, who is this?”
Having been questioned in stereo, I stood between the two of them.
“Shirakawa, this is Maja-san. She came from Yugoslavia. Maja-san, this is Shirakawa. She’s an acquaintance of ours.”
I looked questioningly at Shirakawa. How did the discussion with her family go?
Shirakawa nodded and took a step forward.
“Maja-san, that is your name, right?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard about your situation. If you would like, please come to our house, we have prepared a room for you there. We might not be able to offer you much hospitality, but please let us know what you need. You do not need to pay us any money, but it would be great if you could help with the dishes or cleaning in return.”
Joy erupted on Maja’s face.
“Thank you so much! Please, let me be in your care!”
She then extended her right hand, a universal sign of affection and trust. Shirakawa hesitated for a moment, but instantly smiled, rolled up her overly long sleeve, and shook Maja’s hand. As a nosy intermediary, that handshake let me know that everything went well in the end, giving me a sense of relief.
Tachiarai called out to the two of them.
“I hope you’ll let me come over next time.”
“Yes, please do. Please tell me all about Japan. Machi-san, Moriya-san, thank you very much!”
She bowed deeply at both Tachiarai and me in turn. The two of us responded by waving our hands, a gesture that meant, “You’re welcome. It was nothing.” I looked outside to see that the rain didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon, but since I ended up not lending my umbrella, returning home wouldn’t take that much effort.
Prologue | Contents | Chapter 1 Part 2
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Editors (Tier 2): Dedavond, Pearl H Nettle, David Liu
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- This might refer to Don’t Bite the Sun by Tanith Lee.
- A city of at least 100,000 not in Sapporo, Sendai, Tokyo, Nagoya, Kansai, Hiroshima, or Fukuoka regions.
- Refers to the time between the Azuchi-Momoyama period (1568) and end of the Edo period (1856).
- Fudou means immovable.
- Meaning “Who are you?”
- Meaning to make a great fuss over searching.
- Places where daimyō and other representatives of the shogunate were allowed to stay during their travels.
- Similar in structure and operation to, but generally smaller than, honjin. When two official traveling parties are staying in the same post station, the more powerful of the two stayed in the main honjin. The major difference, though, is that general travelers were able to stay at the waki-honjin, if they had enough status or money.
- Meaning to sleep so soundly that you don’t know what is going on around you.
- A student preparing for college entrance exams. There isn’t really an English equivalent phrase so I had to make up something that sounds complicated.
- Czechoslovakia, which was a country in Central Europe that declared its independence from Austria-Hungary in 1918 and existed until December 1992, when it split peacefully into the two sovereign states of the Czech Republic and Slovakia.
- A language family is a group of languages related through descent from a common ancestor, called the proto-language of that family.
- Sir Henry Creswicke Rawlinson was a British East India Company army officer who was the first Westerner to transcribe the Old Persian portion of the great cuneiform inscription at Behistun.
- Jean-François Champollion, also known as Champollion le jeune, was a French philologist and orientalist, known primarily as the decipherer of Egyptian hieroglyphs and a founding figure in the field of Egyptology.
- Also known as Montenegro.
- Where two expressions switch their typical or expected order of appearance.