after her, but she was completely neutral.
But even though the high school entrance exams were right in front of me, I spent all of my free time with her. In my case, I had already been successfully admitted to a private high school a year before (but one condition for my acceptance was that I graduate from a Japanese Junior High, which is why I'd moved back here), so I had nothing to worry about. Still, I was a little worried about her. I asked once, but she just shrugged.
“You haven't decided?” It was already mid-January.
“I'll be taking a test, but I don't know which school yet,” she said, as if she was talking about someone else.
“Are your parents strict?”
“I don't have any.”
“Hunh? What?”
“Parents.”
“But that. . .” Apparently she had no parents, and lived alone. In high school. . . I could see it, but in Junior High? “No relatives at all?”
“. . . . . . . .” No answer.
“Sorry, I. . . I shouldn't have asked,” I said apologetically.
She turned towards me suddenly. “Sorry, Masaki,” she said, rather urgently.
“About what?” I asked, surprised.
She looked at the ground. “I'm sorry. I can't tell you,” she murmured.
I couldn't ask further. It hurt me to see her sad. Whenever she did, I would get really cheery and try to slide past it. “Gosh, the sky is really beautiful today, huh?!” I might say, in a stupidly loud voice.
She almost never smiled, but when we separated, she always asked if we could meet again, so I guess she didn't hate me. At Ieast, that's what I kept telling myself.
Eventually, I don't know how, she decided to go to high school at Shinyo Academy.
“Oh! Congratulations!” I said happily, when she told me on the phone that she had passed the test.
“I'm glad you're happy, Masaki,” she replied. She almost never sounded like she was having fun, but that day. . . she did.
“We should do something to celebrate. What do you think? Meet in a few at the usual place?”
“Yes, okay.”
Happily, I rushed out to the park where we always met. Not knowing what was waiting for me.
***
“Yes, okay. Mmhmm. . . mmhmm. . . bye.”
Orihata Aya hung up her cell phone after her conversation with Taniguchi Masaki.
It had been the first time she had ever called him. Until now, she had always waited for him to call, but Masaki had been worried about what high school she was going to, so she thought she should let him know.
He had been happy. That made Aya happy. He was unaware that “higher education” was merely a camouflage for her “mission.” She was not happy about it. She did not feel anything about it. But if something she did made Masaki happy, then Aya was happy too.
She moved quickly towards her closet.
Since she met Masaki, her wardrobe had increased dramatically. If she wore something nice, Masaki would tell her it was cute, so Aya began paying attention to her clothes.
There was nothing else in her room. With the exception of the fumiture provided by the building's landlord, there were no other furnishings. No TV no table, not even a bed. There was but a single sleeping bag lying on the floor.
She changed, and went out, allowing the muscles in her cheeks to relax slightly.
People hardly ever came to the park where they always met. It was a large green belt surrounded by three highways, which made it a little scary for parents to take their children out to play. Unfortunately, it was also a tad too out in the open for young people, so it was like an empty air pocket smack dab in the center of the city.
Aya sat down on a bench.
Waiting for Masaki as the rays of the afternoon sun came through the trees above her, Aya entertained the brief fantasy that she was a normal, happy girl.
She didn't know exactly what Masaki thought of her. But when she thought of the secrets she was keeping from him. . . no matter what he wanted from her, he would still be important to her.
If he knew the truth, would he still be her friend? This was
But even though the high school entrance exams were right in front of me, I spent all of my free time with her. In my case, I had already been successfully admitted to a private high school a year before (but one condition for my acceptance was that I graduate from a Japanese Junior High, which is why I'd moved back here), so I had nothing to worry about. Still, I was a little worried about her. I asked once, but she just shrugged.
“You haven't decided?” It was already mid-January.
“I'll be taking a test, but I don't know which school yet,” she said, as if she was talking about someone else.
“Are your parents strict?”
“I don't have any.”
“Hunh? What?”
“Parents.”
“But that. . .” Apparently she had no parents, and lived alone. In high school. . . I could see it, but in Junior High? “No relatives at all?”
“. . . . . . . .” No answer.
“Sorry, I. . . I shouldn't have asked,” I said apologetically.
She turned towards me suddenly. “Sorry, Masaki,” she said, rather urgently.
“About what?” I asked, surprised.
She looked at the ground. “I'm sorry. I can't tell you,” she murmured.
I couldn't ask further. It hurt me to see her sad. Whenever she did, I would get really cheery and try to slide past it. “Gosh, the sky is really beautiful today, huh?!” I might say, in a stupidly loud voice.
She almost never smiled, but when we separated, she always asked if we could meet again, so I guess she didn't hate me. At Ieast, that's what I kept telling myself.
Eventually, I don't know how, she decided to go to high school at Shinyo Academy.
“Oh! Congratulations!” I said happily, when she told me on the phone that she had passed the test.
“I'm glad you're happy, Masaki,” she replied. She almost never sounded like she was having fun, but that day. . . she did.
“We should do something to celebrate. What do you think? Meet in a few at the usual place?”
“Yes, okay.”
Happily, I rushed out to the park where we always met. Not knowing what was waiting for me.
***
“Yes, okay. Mmhmm. . . mmhmm. . . bye.”
Orihata Aya hung up her cell phone after her conversation with Taniguchi Masaki.
It had been the first time she had ever called him. Until now, she had always waited for him to call, but Masaki had been worried about what high school she was going to, so she thought she should let him know.
He had been happy. That made Aya happy. He was unaware that “higher education” was merely a camouflage for her “mission.” She was not happy about it. She did not feel anything about it. But if something she did made Masaki happy, then Aya was happy too.
She moved quickly towards her closet.
Since she met Masaki, her wardrobe had increased dramatically. If she wore something nice, Masaki would tell her it was cute, so Aya began paying attention to her clothes.
There was nothing else in her room. With the exception of the fumiture provided by the building's landlord, there were no other furnishings. No TV no table, not even a bed. There was but a single sleeping bag lying on the floor.
She changed, and went out, allowing the muscles in her cheeks to relax slightly.
People hardly ever came to the park where they always met. It was a large green belt surrounded by three highways, which made it a little scary for parents to take their children out to play. Unfortunately, it was also a tad too out in the open for young people, so it was like an empty air pocket smack dab in the center of the city.
Aya sat down on a bench.
Waiting for Masaki as the rays of the afternoon sun came through the trees above her, Aya entertained the brief fantasy that she was a normal, happy girl.
She didn't know exactly what Masaki thought of her. But when she thought of the secrets she was keeping from him. . . no matter what he wanted from her, he would still be important to her.
If he knew the truth, would he still be her friend? This was
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