Chapter 2 | Contents | Epilogue
Table of Contents
1
July 6, 1992 (Heisei 4) – Monday
That was all I remembered about Maja from Yugoslavia.
While reclining in the soft sofa, I let out a sigh. The sun was already setting, and the shop interior with its mild air-conditioning was starting to feel chilly.
I’d told my version of the story while flipping through my notebook and traversing my memories, and Shirakawa had meticulously taken notes on that. Of course, I’d hardly talked about myself, and had spoken about Maja with more detail, but it was roughly like this. Finally, Shirakawa put down her pen and massaged her wrists, evidently tired. Her gaze dropped to the notebook that was covered in fine, neat handwriting.
“So, we still don’t know, right?”
Without replying to her question, I gazed blankly out of the window.
Exactly one year had passed since that day. Shirakawa, Tachiarai, Fumihara and I had all become university students, and had scattered across Japan. Because our group wasn’t very tightly knit in the first place, we naturally fell out of contact with each other after Maja left, especially so when high school ended and there were no more lessons for us to take together. However, we would still occasionally make phone calls or send letters to each other, and whenever we did, we would talk about Maja.
They say that you drift away from people who leave, but I would remember Maja from time to time, again and again. That was the extent of how much the mass media reported on Yugoslavia, and it seemed like not a day passed without that name being mentioned, when they’d never informed us about the existence of such a country up till now. Whenever I came into contact with this kind of news, I couldn’t help but think of her.
No, that was just an excuse. The memories of Maja still burned brightly in my heart, and never grew dim even after she left. Those memories might have gotten eroded or romanticized, but I never forgot about them.
In this one year, the situation progressed exactly as Maja had predicted.
The military incursion at Slovenia did not reignite after the ten-day period, and ended as the “Ten-Day War”. However, the federal army immediately carried out a military incursion in Croatia, as if the lack of firepower at Slovenia was due to them preparing for this.
No, it was clearly much more than a mere “military incursion”. Croatia’s second-biggest city, Vukovar, became known as “Croatia’s Stalingrad1”. The conflict lasted until January of this year, and I heard that sporadic fighting still occurred. It was estimated that 6,000 people died, though that figure might be off by 10 or 20 thousand.
The flames of war spread to Bosnia and Herzegovina in March this year. Both Serbs and Croats lived there, so it became a hunting ground for both sides. Its capital, Sarajevo, was surrounded, with artillerymen and snipers firing their respective bullets into the city. Every place, every village outside Sarajevo became objects of contention. I also heard of this story: At night, some vehicles went into a town and placed corpses at a prominent location. When morning came around, these corpses were announced to be “people massacred by an opposing ethnic group”, starting a battle for “self-defense”. Analysts said that the conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina would go on for some time.
With the conflict not ending, and the flames of war instead continuing to expand its reach, it gradually drew attention from the mass media. Now, while the accuracy might be suspect, there was no longer any difficulty in gathering information on the topic.
However, I was not satisfied with those reports.
And that was because this series of civil wars was described as an “ethnic war of independence”. Maja, or Marija Jovanović, had not said that. All I’d heard from her was that “A human can forget their father who was killed, but cannot forget when their money is stolen.” Yet the mass media frequently claimed that the war was a tragedy fueled by resentment deeply rooted in history.
I had no way of telling which was correct. Maja was just a human being, so I had no reason to believe her completely. On the other hand, I didn’t know how knowledgeable about Yugoslavia the people on the news networks were.
But ultimately, it didn’t matter to us.
Maja had not given her contact information in Venezuela even to Shirakawa. Because of that, we were unable to send her a letter or give her a phone call. Maja had said that she would send a letter, but it had not yet arrived.
Attempts by the EC to negotiate a ceasefire continued to fail. UN peacekeepers ended up becoming targets for attack. Public opinion in America was that it wasn’t good for the environment to be polluted by war. Maja had predicted this, that “it cannot be stopped”.
While keeping such news in my mind, I’d studied for entrance examinations, took those examinations, received a scholarship and left home to start a new life. After listening to an explanation of the curriculum and exploring the campus, I’d joined a circle. But Maja’s figure had not disappear from that corner of my mind, and images of the war kept being delivered to my eyes. Eventually, I’d become unable to bear the ever-creeping anxiety and yearned to learn about Maja’s safety. Shirakawa had thought the same way, and we’d taken action together.
We’d talked to each other on the phone, and were now meeting face to face back in our hometown, Fujishiba. Going through a few hours and a few cups of iced coffee, we’d dredged up good memories to deal with a bad situation.
But…
“Maja never told us a single time where she was from, right?”
Shirakawa weakly muttered as she flipped through the notebook’s pages. That was probably an unfortunate coincidence. At our first meeting, we hadn’t been literate enough on Yugoslavia to ask which part of Yugoslavia she was from, and I hadn’t had the chance to ask that question after doing my research.
Then again, it was possible that since Maja had introduced herself as Yugoslavian, she would have answered that she was from Yugoslavia, instead of one of its republics like Serbia or Macedonia. Perhaps she had indeed mentioned it, but neither Shirakawa nor I remembered that moment. But it was meaningless if we couldn’t remember. Fumihara had declared with certainty that he didn’t know.
And all Tachiarai had said was that she wanted to forget.
“But…”
Shirakawa murmured, then tenderly stroked the notebook that was filled with stories of Maja.
“Moriya-kun, you talked about many things with Maja, right? I never had these kinds of conversations with her…”
“Did you know that she wanted to become a politician, for example?”
“No, I didn’t. Exactly… I wonder if she was keeping it a secret?”
She didn’t say it accusingly, but in a nostalgic manner. I vocalized the thought that came to my mind.
“That doesn’t seem like it.”
“You think so?”
“There’s no way she was unable to say to you whatever she said to me. Fumihara said this during the farewell party, but you spent the most time with Maja. I think it was just bad timing.”
Shirakawa returned a light nod.
Some water formed from melted ice had collected at the bottom of my cup. I downed that water, along with the remaining small lumps of ice.
“…So, what kind of things did you and Maja usually talk about?”
“What kind?”
Shirakawa pursed her lips and thought for a while. Then, she put on a gentle grin and shook her head.
“Just what girls normally talk about.”
“Meaning?”
“Things like cooking, makeup, fortune telling. There were also many times when we watched TV together. Thinking about it now, Maja was quite the trend-chaser.”
Maja? A trend-chaser?
I must have been making a funny face, for Shirakawa burst out laughing.
“Did you find it that unexpected?”
I nodded earnestly.
Completely unable to imagine a trend-chasing Maja, I mumbled a reply.
“Perhaps she was wearing a bunch of different masks.”
Shirakawa stroked the notebook again.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“……”
“Maja was a girl with many sides to her. That’s all. Moriya-kun, did the side of Maja that you saw seem like an act to you?”
It was then that I realized that I’d said something incredibly foolish.
Shirakawa closed the notebook for now and turned her eyes towards the materials on the table. One object that particularly stood out was the map of Yugoslavia that was split into different colors. It was an old map, or to be precise it was old for the times since it was from only two years ago, and showed Slovenia and Croatia as part of Yugoslavia. Our gazes were drawn to it at almost the same time.
Shirakawa spoke with a strained voice.
“If I knew it would become like this, I would have asked Maja where she was from… No, if I knew, I definitely wouldn’t have let her go back to Yugoslavia.”
The tears that she’d been holding back this entire time suddenly started falling. Holding her breath, she wiped her eyes without closing them.
It was hard to breathe.
I knew that it would turn out like this.
No, to be accurate, Maja knew it would turn out like this. But thinking about it, I’d never stopped her once, though I can say with confidence that it wouldn’t have prevented her from returning to her home country. Even so, the fact that I hadn’t tried to was proof that I’d been just thinking about myself, and Maja going back to Yugoslavia had been a secondary matter to me.
…I shook my head to change my mindset. There would be enough time for self-loathing later.
Would we feel relieved if we knew where Maja went back to? That would depend on the information on the table, which included newspaper cutouts, well-summarized notes and books. Those were the materials that Fumihara had sent over.
Having read those, I was familiar with the current situation in each republic of Yugoslavia.
If Maja went back to Slovenia…
There would be no problem. As the first one out, Slovenia’s independence was recognized by many countries, and it had completely escaped the “baggage” of Yugoslavia. I didn’t know if Slovenia would be able to achieve the economic growth it desired from now on, but for the time being, Maja wouldn’t be singed by the flames of war if that was where she went.
If Maja went back to Croatia…
That would be close to the worst case scenario. As I mentioned earlier, Croatia became embroiled in a state of war soon after Maja returned to Yugoslavia, or specifically, at the end of August. I’d also heard that due to the continued fighting in various parts of the republic, the postal network there had suffered a great deal of damage. That might be why we still hadn’t received Maja’s letter.
If Maja went back to Serbia…
She would be safe for now. There had been no news from Serbia about any fighting or acts of terrorism. However, it wouldn’t be safe there forever. America and the EC had asserted that Serbia was to blame for the unceasing civil war. I didn’t really understand why that was so, but such a declaration had been made, and economic sanctions had been put in place. It felt like a military incursion could eventually occur there. But for now, it was safe.
If Maja went back to Bosnia and Herzegovina…
We would be a lot more at ease if she went to Croatia or somewhere else, rather than this. While the fighting in Croatia was intense, it was already over. It was reported that over 3,000 people had died in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Though it might seem like a smaller number compared to that in Croatia, the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina was still raging on.
If Maja went back to Montenegro…
This was also a safe place, and we would feel relieved if this was where she lived. Even if America and the EC blamed the federation of Yugoslavia for the civil war and suddenly fired missiles at it, Montenegro would probably be fine.
If Maja went back to Macedonia…
She should be fine for the time being. Macedonia had also declared independence at some point in time, but it seemed that the federal army had no intention of sending troops there. However, due to the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the number of refugees rapidly increased. With Macedonia being a republic that was already struggling economically, there was the opinion that the rapid influx of refugees would cause public safety there to deteriorate. That said, nothing would happen there, at least for the foreseeable future.
“Hey, Moriya-kun. What if…”
While staring absentmindedly at the open notebook, Shirakawa slowly muttered.
“What is it?”
But she then closed her mouth, thought for a while, and shook her head.
“Sorry. Let me think for a bit more.”
She pulled out a ball-point pen, turned to a new page in the notebook, and started writing something down. She must have just had a realization.
Engrossed in her task, Shirakawa did not raise her head.
I looked around, and my eyes stopped on an envelope that had been pushed to the edge of the table. It was the letter from Fumihara. I had a rough idea about what was written, but still I picked up the envelope and retrieved its contents. It was a piece of paper covered with words written in bold strokes of an oil-based ball-point pen. That was Fumihara’s handwriting.
I skimmed through the letter.
To Shirakawa and Moriya:
I’ve heard about the situation, but I’ve been entrusted with some responsibilities here, so I unfortunately can’t return to our hometown. Even if I could, it would only be two days for the Obon holidays2, and I won’t have the time to speak at length with you all.
Also, to tell you the truth, I don’t want to do something like that.
I know how you feel. No, it’s more accurate to say that I understand your reasoning. We’ve certainly talked about many things with Marija-san, and there’s nothing better than learning that she’s safe. But I think praying for her safety is enough. I just don’t feel the need to mull over whether she’s safe or not.
I’ve talked about this to Moriya before, but I think it’s impossible for me to get involved in things beyond what my hands can reach. I might be just like a farmer, to a fault. On my own, I sow the seeds, nurture the plants, trim them, and eat their fruits. I believe I’m destined to grow old while repeating this process.
It’s not up to me to judge if that’s a strength or a weakness.
Anyway, what I can say is that this personality trait of mine hinders me from worrying about Marija-san who came from a country far, far away. You might think of me as a cold-hearted person. I have no argument against that.
But if there’s something my hands can reach, I want to do as much as I can. This might sound like I’m splitting hairs, but it’s not because I’m worried about Marija-san’s safety, and because I want to help you all that I’ve gathered as much information as I can get my hands on. This box is the result of that. I don’t think it’s such an amazing collection that I can hold my head high and say I did my best, but I hope that it will provide at least a small bit of assistance towards your goal.
“That’s what I thought,” I muttered under my breath.
Fumihara’s personality was completely different from mine. Since I knew that he wrote this letter while staying true to himself, I could also be honest and say that his way of thinking irritated me considerably. But just like how when it came to Tachiarai, there were many instances where I had to give up because I knew it wasn’t in her personality to help, there was nothing I could do now but accept that this was what Fumihara was like.
Even so… it would have certainly been more reassuring to see his face.
I carefully folded the letter and returned it to its original position.
At the same time, Shirakawa raised her head. Strength welled up from her usually sleepy half-closed eyes.
“Say, Moriya-kun.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking… and I might understand it now.”
Her fists were clenched tightly. I shifted my position to sit slightly more forward on the sofa.
Shirakawa placed the open notebook in the exact center of the table so that I could also see it easily. Her slightly quicker words, her fidgety movements and wide open eyelids showed her excitement. With strokes more powerful than before, she began writing.
“There were six republics in Yugoslavia, right?”
Written in the notebook were the names of the six republics. Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Macedonia.
“Look at this.”
Shirakawa flipped to a page that showed the conversation between me and Maja in Fujishiba High School, on the ninth day of the Ten-Day War.
“Moriya-kun, when you asked Maja if she knew that a war would occur in Yugoslavia, she answered that ‘Yugoslavia was starting to be hated’, right?”
“Yes, she did say that.”
As I replied, I realized what Shirakawa wanted to do.
“At that time, Maja said this: ‘When I went to Macedonia, this happened. I talked to some small children, and they laughed at me. Why did they laugh?’ ‘I went to Macedonia before when I was a lot younger, and it was not like that.’ Maja is not Macedonian. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have said that she went to Macedonia. She would have said that she ‘went back’ or ‘returned’ to Macedonia, as she’d always done so in similar contexts.”
With slightly upturned eyes, Shirakawa observed my reaction. I nodded to show my agreement. Seemingly relieved, she struck Macedonia from the list.
“Also, we can consider her language. In Yugoslavia, Maja used Serbo-Croatian. She also uses it now, because when Tachiarai asked about why she wanted to visit a graveyard, Maja replied, ‘I can explain it with Srpskohrvatskom’. On the ninth day of the Ten-Day War, Maja said that Hrvatska is Croatia, so Srpskohrvatskom must mean the language Serbo-Croatian.”
“That sounds correct.”
As if encouraged by those words, Shirakawa pushed forward.
“But there were some republics that don’t use Serbo-Croatian, right?”
Since it seemed like she was about to start going through the materials, I gave her the answer.
“In Slovenia, they use Slovene, and in Macedonia they use Macedonian.”
“Right. So, we’ve already eliminated Macedonia, but now we can also eliminate Slovenia.”
Shirakawa drew a line through Slovenia on the notebook, but she didn’t look happy. We’d just eliminated two safe republics, so it was understandable. I felt the same way. However, Shirakawa did not hesitate.
“Another thing. Maja was always worried about Yugoslavia. But that’s weird, isn’t it? She should have been worried that her birthplace would become a war zone, but she wasn’t, meaning that she probably didn’t think that her birthplace would become a war zone. Or at least, she thought that it would be fine for the time being.
“During the farewell party, Maja told you where she thought fighting would happen next. She said, ‘Next is Croatia. After that is likely Bosnia and Herzegovina. Then, probably Kosovo as well.’
“So, we can also take out Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, right?”
Only Serbia and Montenegro remained on the list.
“I thought up to this point. But I don’t know which one of Serbia or Montenegro is Maja’s hometown. Moriya-kun, do you have any idea?”
I pulled the notebook towards me.
Which one of Serbia or Montenegro?
“Which one, huh…”
But Shirakawa was wrong.
That wasn’t the way to the right answer.
…At that moment, my head was in the clouds.
Or to be precise, I was in a daze. Suddenly, I was struck by an epiphany, and figured out the answer without having to think. It lasted for just a moment, and would never come back even if I wanted it to. All the information and thoughts I’d accumulated in my mind brought about an inspiration. I had an intuition of Maja’s hometown, and I was slowly trying to think of why that was the answer.
“Moriya-kun? What’s the matter?”
Being spoken to, I came to my senses. As Shirakawa stared at my face with a dubious, quizzical look, I pushed back the notebook in front of my eyes. I’d probably lost myself for only two or three seconds.
I struggled to put on a smile.
“Ah, I see.”
So that my train of thought wouldn’t pop like a bubble, my response naturally became short, and the attention I paid to Shirakawa became little. I was afraid that the answer that had appeared out of nowhere would fly off somewhere if I didn’t quickly write it down or if I didn’t have that same epiphany again. Yet I suppressed the impulse to blurt out that thought. I felt that was the right thing to do.
I deliberately frowned and stared at the names of republics in the notebook.
“Serbia and Montenegro, huh. But it doesn’t matter which one it is, right?”
“Eh?”
Shirakawa let out a surprised squeak.
“Why?”
I shifted further back into the sofa.
“Because Serbia and Montenegro are close to each other in terms of safety. I would have no complaints if she lives in Slovenia, but Serbia and Montenegro are safe for the time being. Her letter should be coming soon, don’t you think?”
It took a few seconds for Shirakawa to understand. Rather than her being slow on the uptake, it was probably because her knowledge of each republic was not as deep as mine, or because she was her thinking was too skewed towards choosing one from two.
But a smile soon broke across her face.
“I see. That’s right. She’ll be fine, right?”
The clouds disappeared from her face, and a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. That was how hearty her smile was. It might have even contained feelings of salvation.
“Yeah, that’s right. Even if we don’t know where Maja went back to, it’s good enough knowing that she went back to a safe place.
“I’ve always had a bad feeling about it. I’ve had weird dreams… But that’s good. I should be fine as of tonight.”
Shirakawa wiped her eyes and looked up, then let out a breath. I reached out for my cup. It was empty.
I stood up from my seat, then directed an amiable smile at Shirakawa who looked up at me.
“Sorry, but I don’t feel so good. Mind if I head home for today?”
She hurriedly rose to her feet.
“Not feeling well? Are you alright? Was the air conditioner blowing on you for too long?”
Apparently deeply concerned, she tried coming around to my side of the table. I stopped her with my hand, feeling happy as I did so. While her appearance might have changed, Shirakawa was still Shirakawa. The grimace that I’d intentionally put on collapsed into a smile.
“You’re really compassionate.”
“Huh, what?”
“You’ll cry for me if I die, right?”
Shirakawa was lost for words. Her mouth opened wide as she digested the meaning of those words. After that, she replied in a small voice, with a solemn look on her face that made her seem part angry, part confused.
“Something like that… I don’t want to think about it.”
I nodded, and picked up the receipt.
“Right, sorry.”
“Ah, the money…”
“It’s fine.”
I paid for a few cups of iced coffee, then waved at Shirakawa, who was hastily gathering up the materials on the table.
“See you next time… and tell Tachiarai I said hi.”
I started on the path home.
Like the previous year, the sun was baking the northern hemisphere. But in just one year under it, our lives had changed in many ways. The bubble burst, and the Soviet Union formally dissolved. I’d continued thinking about the words Maja had left to me on that day, and had come to understand them. I’d come to understand why Maja had been unwilling to take me with her.
Where did Maja go to?
Shirakawa had listed three conditions for the process of elimination.
1. Places that Maja “went” to, instead of “returned” or “went back” to.
2. Places that don’t use Serbo-Croatian.
3. Places where Maja didn’t think fighting would happen.
Staring at only the asphalt at my feet, I walked forward step by step as the sun beat down on the top of my head.
Out of the three conditions, the second could not be said to be suitable. My table might say that Slovene is used in Slovenia, but that is only their main language. It wasn’t right to eliminate Slovenia using the second condition.
As for the third condition, it was nothing more than wishful speculation that Maja had thought that way. At that time, she was merely saying that war might come to all parts of Yugoslavia. Even if Maja came from Croatia, I couldn’t declare that it would be illogical for her to worry more about Yugoslavia’s collapse than Croatia being attacked.
Come to think of it, Shirakawa had probably wanted to eliminate the deathtraps of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina as candidates for Maja’s hometown no matter what. That was why she’d forced those improper conditions. But I had no intention of finding fault with her. If it would make me feel better, I would want to stick to the conclusion we’d drawn too. But looking at it objectively, I had to say that eliminating Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Slovenia based on two of the three conditions was wrong.
In the end, the only one that could be eliminated was Macedonia, by Shirakawa’s first condition.
But I was unable to bring myself to say it to her.
After turning a corner, I had my back to the sun. My own shadow was reflected in my eyes as it moved along the asphalt.
So, where did Maja return to?
While Shirakawa was listening to me, she should have paid more attention to what Maja had said during that time when she wasn’t yet present. She should have also been more mindful of what Maja had said at a more peaceful time, before the Ten-Day War started.
On the topic of hometowns, there was no need to even think that there are many cities across the entirety of Yugoslavia. In the end, as Shirakawa had done so earlier, I had to consider in terms of republics, which is a big unit.
However, I’d realized ages ago that Maja’s hometown had certain characteristics.
Of the words that Maja said to me, almost none of them were in English or English loan words. That was natural. She didn’t know even simple phrases like “May I help you?” or “common sense”. Maja’s English vocabulary, as recorded by my notebook, was limited to “supermarket”, “EC”, “milliliters” and “shoot”.
About supermarkets, Maja clearly said, “These are called supermarkets in Japan, right?” It would be difficult to go about daily life in Japan without knowing that word. The supermarkets that she referred to were obviously large-scale retail stores.
EC means the European (Economic) Community. The milliliter is a unit. Maja’s sentences wouldn’t have made sense by any other interpretation.
In contrast, “shoot” was obviously strange.
On the day we went touring around Fujishiba City as a group of five, Shirakawa went into a supermarket to buy a handkerchief for Maja. In the meantime, the rest of us had a conversation, and Maja ended up chiding us for having the assumption that Yugoslavia had no supermarkets. At that time, Maja said this, “My city is big; it is a little different from a shoot. It also has a Samoposluga. Um, but I have also often bought things from the market, where the people who produce those things sell them directly.”
What was Maja trying to say then? That there were supermarkets in her city, as well as markets where people directly sell their produce. Also, she was saying that her city is big, not like a shoot.
During that moment, I was distracted by Tachiarai saying something about Maja’s country being a communist one. That was why I didn’t think to ask what she meant by shoot. I might have wondered if it was some sort of joke about shooting into a goal.
But at the farewell party, after Fumihara caught an apple with a chopstick in his mouth, Tachiarai also showed us a lightning-fast technique, and she praised Shirakawa’s throwing skill by saying, “Nice shoot, Izuru,” with “Nice shoot” in English loan words. I thought that it was inconsiderate for her to say that, since Maja couldn’t even understand simple English. As expected, Maja did ask, “Shoot?” She then told us that the word was pronounced similarly in Serbo-Croatian. But when she asked that question, she clearly hadn’t linked the English “shoot” with the Serbo-Croatian “sut”. So, what was she talking about at the supermarket?
If her “shoot” wasn’t in English, was it in Japanese?
It couldn’t mean an uncle or aunt in that context.
In the Federation of Yugoslavia, within the Republic of Serbia, there are two autonomous provinces, Kosovo and Vojvodina. The administrative centers of these provinces cannot be called capitals, and Maja knew that the capital is where a country’s executive branch is located. On the rainy day when we met, we asked her about where her father was, and she replied, “Not the capital, uh… but he is in the biggest provincial capital (shuuto).”
Maja called the place where the prefectural office is located the provincial capital (though to be precise Osaka contains the Urban Prefectural Office). She then said that her city was not like a provincial capital, and was bigger. The only thing bigger than a provincial capital is a capital, so Maja’s city could only be a capital. This meant that in her mind, there were no cases where the capital is smaller than other major domestic cities, like Canberra and Washington.
“Hahaha, what a fool she is!”
A high-pitched noise suddenly rang out. I looked up to see a sports car with its windows fully open speed past with a loud roar. It was only then that I realized the pedestrian signal was red. I spread my legs out to be at shoulder width apart and gazed at the sky. There were many clouds today. There was also some wind. It was a damp, sticky, heavy, and unpleasant wind.
There are six cities in Yugoslavia that can be considered capitals, which is equal to the number of republics.
Ljubljana in Slovenia, Zagreb in Croatia, Beograd in Serbia, Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Titograd in Montenegro, Skopje in Macedonia.
Out of these, only Skopje could be instantly eliminated, because Macedonia was already taken off as a candidate by Shirakawa’s logic.
Five cities remained.
The first that could be eliminated was Ljubljana in Slovenia. That was the fighting ground of the Ten-Day War. Ljubljana’s airport was a target for air strikes by the Yugoslav People’s Army. On the day of the farewell party, Maja had said this to me when we were alone, “Next is Croatia. After that is likely Bosnia and Herzegovina. Then, probably Kosovo as well.” Shirakawa drew attention to that just now, but the words that followed were also important. “And one day, my city might also become a battlefield.” Ljubljana had already become a battlefield.
Shirakawa had struck off Macedonia and Slovenia at the beginning. It was indeed distressful to remove the two safest candidates right off the bat.
So, how should the remaining four options be eliminated?
I figured it out during the epiphany. When we were going into the Historical Preservation District, we crossed a bridge. Ronden Bridge, which was built by a merchant who felt thankful to the gods when his stolen money was returned to him. While we were crossing that bridge, Maja knocked on the metallic railing and said, “In Yugoslavia, most bridges carry some symbolic meaning. They are buildings that can represent a city.” She was then asked what kind of famous bridges there are in Yugoslavia, to which she replied, “Um, there are many famous bridges. My city is like Fujishiba, with one river flowing through the middle of the city. That is why it has many bridges. But the most famous bridge in Yugoslavia is Mostar Bridge. Many people jump off from there every year.”
Maja didn’t return to a city that doesn’t have a single river flowing through it.
Having researched the geographical conditions at the very beginning of the Ten-Day War, I knew that there were two cities that could be eliminated: Beograd, which is located at the confluence of the Sava River and Danube River, and Zagreb, which is built on the northern bank of the Sava River, and only recently started development to the south. I lacked information on Titograd, and Sarajevo has the Miljacka River flowing through its very center.
So, Serbia and Croatia could be removed from consideration.
Strangely enough, there were two remaining candidates, just like with Shirakawa’s logic.
Montenegro, capital Titograd, currently safe.
Bosnia and Herzegovina, capital Sarajevo, currently a warzone.
My mouth was dry.
I looked up to see that the green walk signal was just starting to tick down. Being absorbed in thought, I’d stood still for one cycle of the pedestrian signal. It wouldn’t be a joke if I got a heatstroke from being exposed to the sun for too long. I stopped thinking for a moment to wait for the red light to turn green, which took a considerably long time, then crossed the road. Again, only the asphalt and my shadow were in my view.
Speaking of jokes…
Maja had told us a few jokes. The one that left the most lasting impression was when she said, “Do not cross this bridge,” which made the strength leave my body. But that wasn’t Maja’s only joke. She’d even told us a joke on the day we met, though it was quite difficult to understand.
“To tell you the truth, Crna Gora is at war with Japan. There was a proper Declaration of War.”
“No… it is still ongoing. There was no treaty to end that war.”
“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?”
Maja was clearly not a person from Crna Gora. But where is it? Just like how Hrvatska refers to Croatia, it could be somewhere in Yugoslavia. One of the six republics could have Crna Gora as its local name. So, what is it? It could be anything but Croatia. Just as we could use “Japan” or “Nippon” depending on the situation, Maja had probably chosen to use Crna Gora because it fit well with the rest of her words.
There weren’t many countries still at war with Japan, especially in Europe.
It was a shame that the Japanese History Elective student Fumihara wasn’t with us, but it should be possible to recall the answer to that question. The Shimonoseki Incident came to mind. Or was it a war? Was there a declaration of war? I didn’t know, but I could remember that the United Kingdom, United States, France and the Netherlands were involved3. What about the Russo-Japanese war? The First Sino-Japanese War couldn’t have anything to do with it, but there was also World War I, the Second Sino-Japanese War, and World War II.
What was Yugoslavia’s history like?
Yugoslavia was formed after the Habsburg Monarchy collapsed as a result of World War I.
In other words, Yugoslavia was established after World War I, and if it declared war against Japan, it would be the whole of Yugoslavia against Japan, not just one republic.
So if any individual republic declared war against Japan before Yugoslavia’s formation, it would have to be during World War I, or before that.
At that stage, which of them were independent countries? There was the standard-bearer for Slavic liberation, a country directly involved in World War I, Serbia. There was also Montenegro, which did not crumble under the might of the Ottoman Empire and successfully maintained its independence. One of them had to be Crna Gora.
Additionally, Maja talked in Serbo-Croatian, or “Srpskohrvatskom”. “Hrvatska” is Croatia, so “Srpsko” likely has to do with Serbia. Indeed, Maja called Serbia “Srbija” during one of our conversations.
In other words, the place where Maja couldn’t have been born, Crna Gora, refers to Montenegro.
I went out to the bank of the Atotsu River. The moist, lukewarm wind whooshed past, causing me to turn away involuntarily.
There was one name left on the list.
Bosnia and Herzegovina, capital Sarajevo.
2
July 6, 1992 (Heisei 4) – Monday
At night, a bell rang.
It was a phone call from someone I didn’t really want to talk to. As they always did, I responded with the minimum amount of words.
“What is it?”
“I want to meet you.”
“I’ve got nothing for you.”
“But I do.”
“Like I care.”
Silence fell on the other end of the receiver.
It was broken by a voice that seemed to be strained from labored breathing.
“I have to meet you tonight no matter what.”
I sighed.
“Where?”
The designated meeting point was the foot of Fudou Bridge, in front of the shuttered photo studio.
Indeed, that was the approximate middle point between the two of us. Even though I’d known her for so long now, I was still dumbfounded by Tachiarai’s impudence.
The afternoon’s heat did not cool down, and the wind was heavier than it had been in the afternoon. It was still early in the evening, and the bright streetlights made it difficult to see the stars. The waxing moon that almost a semicircle also shone brilliantly, smothering the light from the stars. The moon had a magnificent white halo. I put on my sandals and left the house.
I had no clue as to what Tachiarai wanted.
When I’d said that I wanted to figure out Maja’s hometown, she’d refused and turned down my request. Shirakawa had told me not to think of Tachiarai as cold, but it was impossible to bend the truth. What did this Tachiarai want from me now? To be honest, I was in a bad mood, or to put it more clearly, I was irritated. Was she about to give me excuses? I didn’t want to listen to them, and there was something else I had to do.
But after taking a deep breath and thinking about it, there was no way Tachiarai would call me out late at night to say, “Sorry, I couldn’t help you due to my personal reasons. Please forgive me.” She would definitely not say something like that.
Then again, things change. While Shirakawa’s nature hadn’t changed, that might not be the case for Tachiarai. If she’d indeed changed such that she would say that… then I really wouldn’t want to hear her words.
Those thoughts caused my legs to slow down. It took me twice the normal amount of time to reach Fudou Bridge. Wouldn’t Tachiarai get tired of waiting and go home? Such a worry washed over me. No, that wasn’t a worry, it was expectation.
However, under the haloed moon, Tachiarai was waiting. Her long hair was the same as before, and she was wearing a jacket and bell bottoms. Both of them were black, so she seemed to fade into the night. I could see a red light by her lips. Evidently having else nothing to do while waiting, she was smoking a cigarette.
When she caught sight of me, she pressed the cigarette against the asphalt, extinguishing it. After that, she produced a small silver box from her pocket and kept the extinguished cigarette there. That action was familiar to me.
The streetlamp near Fudou Bridge let out only an extremely feeble light. Tachiarai and I faced each other under the moonlight.
I was the first to speak.
“Happy birthday.”
Tachiarai stared at my face as if she’d seen something rare, then looked down at the cigarette residue by her feet.
“Right, thank you, though it was yesterday.”
She then smiled faintly.
“Long time no see.”
I did not look into Tachiarai’s eyes.
“You’re right.”
“You been well?”
So you’re being considerate of me? What’s gotten into you? Thank you, I’m fine, if the definition of being well is having no problems with my body.
These words appeared in my mind, but now that she was physically in front of me, I was unable to speak like I was on the phone. In the end, I nodded in place of a verbal response.
“You?”
“Normal. I slimmed down a little.”
Since Tachiarai was originally slender, I couldn’t tell if she’d slimmed down. In the first place, I never paid attention to her body such that I would be able to make such a comparison.
Still looking away, I spoke in a small voice.
“So, what do you want?”
But Tachiarai replied teasingly.
“You in a hurry?”
“…Yeah, there’s something I have to do. If you have something to say, make it quick.”
I didn’t need to look at her to know that her grim eyes were on me. Despite my request for her to make it quick, she remained quiet for a short while. Just as I was about to express my irritation, she spoke in a low voice.
“By something you have to do, you mean making a travel plan?”
I involuntarily raised my head, and met Tachiarai’s gaze head on. Her eyes weren’t the sharp, cold ones I’d been used to up till the year before. Instead, commiseration seemed to inhabit them.
Then, I realized that my attitude was answering her question eloquently.
She shook her head, very slightly.
“Maja told you not to come, didn’t she? Did you not understand what she was saying?”
What Maja was saying? I couldn’t help but reply with a question, even as I knew that Tachiarai would have expected that.
“Why do you know that?”
Tachiarai’s expression did not change.
“Women turn to each other for advice. Izuru phoned me, saying that you were acting strange. I figured it out after listening to the whole story. Moriya-kun, did I hit the mark?”
My voice became hoarse.
“Not about that! I meant about what Maja was saying!”
For a moment, it seemed like a shade of sorrow colored her face.
“I told you, women turn to each other for advice. Maja wasn’t that strong to spend two months in a place she doesn’t know without confiding in someone about her worries.”
“……”
I felt like I was being choked.
Not because Maja had revealed our conversation to someone else. In the first place, I hadn’t told her to keep it a secret, and she hadn’t gone around blabbing about it to everyone, anyway. No, it was because Tachiarai’s words that Maja was unable to spend a mere two months alone somehow made me feel an unbearably painful stab in my heart.
As I kept silent, Tachiarai mercilessly showered me with words.
“Are you still planning to go? How are you getting there? And what will you do when you’re there?”
I gnashed hard on my back teeth.
“I heard that refugees from Bosnia and Herzegovina arrive incessantly at Italy, across the Adriatic Sea. If you can get to Italy from Bosnia, there should be ships going the opposite direction as well. I’ve saved up some money. In one or two months, most likely two, I’ll be ready. I can go over there, and save Maja.”
But I was interrupted before I could finish saying my piece.
“Do you really not understand why Maja refused to take you to Yugoslavia? There’s no way anything would happen even if you get there, and the best case is that you get tricked by some crafty people into seeing some sort of illusion, right? In the end, Moriya-kun, you…”
“I know, I know!”
My voice came out in a yell.
Yes, I knew.
I wanted to go to Yugoslavia. Just as Maja had come to Fujishiba, I wanted to go over there.
Maja had laughed at my confession, and said that it was a bad time for sightseeing.
At that time, I’d felt frustrated, because my earnest desires had been summed up in one word, “sightseeing”. I’d thought, “That’s not it. I want to go to do something more meaningful.”
But many things change in a year. Maja’s words constantly lingered in my head, and would often come to the surface as a question while studying for entrance exams, or even in the middle of those exams. And one year was not too short a time period to come up with an answer, no matter how imperfect.
The truth was that what I’d tried to do last year, asking Maja to take me to Yugoslavia, was indeed, as she’d said, just for sightseeing. No, it was even worse. It was an utterly meaningless action. I wanted to do something, somehow. Did I really think that something would happen if I went to Yugoslavia with that mentality?
I learned that there used to be a profession called “prospector”. These people would walk around mountains and search for promising ore deposits. Of course, ore deposits aren’t just lying around, so most of them failed. However, these prospectors had the goal of searching for ore deposits. Even if most of them failed, that was already in their calculations from the beginning.
Compared to them, what about the intention of going onto a mountain for just a chance of finding something, anything? Obviously, nothing would come of it, and it wouldn’t result in success or failure. Thus, I would call such an action a “picnic”.
At that time, I was enchanted by the fascinating world Maja had brought with her. In reality, I just wanted to cling onto the “dramatic” element that had finally appeared before me. By explicitly stating that it was for my own sake, I’d managed to avoid being accused of being a hypocrite, but that was just about the only saving grace of it all.
Hints had been scattered everywhere. Maja had clearly stated her reasons for coming to Japan at the start, and had made it a lot clearer at Tsukasa Shrine. Tachiarai had sharply criticized me for yearning after another world I knew so little about.
Maja had seen right through me, and said that she understood me more than I did myself. She was probably right. To break me out from the enchantment, Maja had harshly rejected my request. It took me some time to understand that, but…
But now…
Now that I knew, or rather, because I knew, I was caught up in the impulse that I had to go to Yugoslavia. Right now, I didn’t “just want to do something, somehow”.
These thoughts crossed my mind, but I didn’t feel the need to say them aloud. I knew that one line was enough.
So I spoke.
“I know, but I’ve decided.”
Silence.
The smell of lingering cigarette smoke reached my nose.
Tachiarai let out a deep, deep sigh. Looking down, she jiggled her long hair and shook her head. When she finally raised her head, it was with an indescribably sad smile. I couldn’t believe that Tachiarai could express her emotions so clearly, even though I’d just witnessed it directly.
“You’ve got a funny face on again… Really.”
“It didn’t become like that for your enjoyment.”
Tachiarai stuck her hand into the right pocket of her bell bottoms. What she produced from it was a white, slightly crinkled envelope.
“If you’ve made that decision, I have no choice.”
She muttered, then held the envelope towards me, and I reluctantly accepted it. The envelope had nothing written on its front or back, and was just as unapproachable as Tachiarai herself. There seemed to be a few pieces of paper in it.
When I tried to take them out, Tachiarai asked.
“Moriya-kun, do you know why Maja didn’t reveal where she was from?”
“…It was a coincidence, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was a coincidence, but only until some point.”
I stopped my hands and stared at Tachiarai. As if the emotion she’d showed earlier was some kind of mistake, she continued speaking with only her lips.
“At that point, it became intentional. Moriya-kun, do you know why?”
“……”
“It was to prevent you from going to Yugoslavia.”
A sharp jolt ran through my body.
Tachiarai moved towards me, by just half a step.
“Maja never gave her contact information to Izuru, who wouldn’t refuse a request from her, to Fumihara, a male friend, and of course, to you. She was worried that if you knew, you would try finding her in Yugoslavia.”
Her voice became increasingly forceful. Correspondingly, her composure started to crumble.
“But she told me, believing that I would be able to keep the secret until the time comes. Moriya-kun, do you know what you’re holding? I sent a letter to Maja, and that’s the reply from Sarajevo.
“Read it, now!”
I looked back at the white envelope.
There were three pieces of writing paper in it. Pulling them out took some time and effort.
Two of those were written in smooth cursive script of the English alphabet. The third was written in very neat Japanese, as if it had been typed out by a machine. I didn’t need to ask; that was a translation done by Tachiarai.
I read it.
Thank you for the letter, but I’m not sure if my letter will reach you. Sarajevo is now in a terrible state. I pray that this letter will reach Japan without issue.
I’m Marija’s brother, Slobodan. I was very happy to read your heartfelt letter to my younger sister. I must write this letter that will be painful for you, just as it is painful for us.
My sister, and your friend Marija, was shot in the head by a sniper on May 22, and died.
I’m glad that I was able to build a grave for Marija. It’s gradually getting difficult to build proper graves in Sarajevo.
Marija loved you all. Just as she loved other countries, she loved Japan. She strongly wished to go to Japan one more time. I pray that I can make it come true in some part.
When peace returns to our city (please God, let it come soon), I hope that you can come and visit. In place of my sister, we will welcome you, so that she will be at peace.
How does one normally react to that?
The text continued on, but I couldn’t read further. I recalled Maja’s face that possessed a hint of childlike innocence, her uniquely thick eyebrows, her black eyes, her black hair.
The head! Why the head!
I raised my head to see Tachiarai in front of me. I cursed her.
“Why didn’t you say anything! Why did you keep quiet when you knew! Was it fun for you to see Shirakawa and I work hard for nothing?”
“What would you have done!”
Tachiarai yelled in a voice twice as loud as mine.
“Could you tell this to Izuru? It’s not like you can’t imagine how she’ll react. I couldn’t do that. I can’t withstand something like that.
“You should’ve realized, right? You should’ve realized why I drank so much until I got wasted at last year’s farewell party. You understood why Izuru got wasted, but you didn’t think that it was the same for me. Why did you think I always refused to explain to Maja whenever she was curious about something? Did you understand that I felt shy about it?
“I know what you think of me, and I know that my actions make me look that way. I know that Tachiarai suits me a lot more, rather than an easygoing nickname like Sendou. But Moriya-kun, you’ve been thinking of me as too cold-hearted a person!”
Her hair was all over the place, and a bunch of it flowing in front partially hid her left eye.
After brushing her hair to the back, Tachiarai looked slightly downward. She then put her hand in her left pocket, and held out a small object.
“This was enclosed in the letter.”
I could see some hydrangeas.
It was a barrette with a relief of hydrangeas, stained with dirt.
The barrette that had just been in Tachiarai’s pocket was warm, as if it was alive.
Chapter 2 | Contents | Epilogue
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Editors (Tier 2): Dedavond, Pearl H Nettle, Minami, Yousef
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- The pivotal turning point of World War II, where Soviet forces defeated the German 6th Army, ending Nazi advancement in the East. It was the bloodiest battle in history, with over 2 million total casualties, characterized by brutal urban warfare, starvation, and extreme winter conditions, reducing the city to rubble.
- Obon is a fusion of the ancient Japanese belief in ancestral spirits and a Japanese Buddhist custom to honor the spirits of one’s ancestors. It has evolved into a family reunion holiday during which people return to their ancestral family places and visit and clean their ancestors’ graves.
- The Shimonoseki Campaign was a series of military engagements in 1863 and 1864, fought to control the Shimonoseki Straits of Japan which was ruled by the feudal Chōshū clan, whose daimyō remained bitterly resentful of the shogunate’s open-door policy to foreign trade.