did was read the script, though.”
“Well, your real voice is great to begin with. Omiya really is the perfect role for you.”
“… I suppose so.”
Huh?
That sounded dark. I was trying to praise him, but maybe I’d said something wrong.
And just then, Akutagawa’s eyes widened in surprise.
At the other end of the slowly darkening campus, an old cherry tree grew next to the school gate, rising up red and black in the sunset. Its darkly tinged leaves and gnarled branches fanned out drearily. Half hidden behind it stood Sarashina.
Her sorrowful eyes were full of tears, and her limbs and lips trembled, as if it was the middle of winter.
Sarashina suddenly ran at us and threw herself against Akutagawa’s chest, then brokenly begged, “Kazushi… what… should I do? Help me… Kazushi—”
Something cold shot down my spine. Sarashina’s fingers clutching at Akutagawa’s jacket—I saw they were covered in a red liquid.
Blood? Or was it only the light of the setting sun?
As sobs racked her body, Akutagawa wrapped his arms around her as if to hide her. He bowed his head over her, his face twisted in pain.
The next day, I spotted Akutagawa on the way to school.
He stopped his bike and dropped a long white envelope into a mailbox.
The moment I saw how tense his face was, I thought back to what had happened the day before.
I wasn’t sure whether I should call out to him, but then he looked in my direction and our eyes met.
“Morning.”
I gave him a slight smile, and after a moment’s hesitation showing on his face, he gave the same smile back.
“Morning, Inoue.”
Pushing down the thrumming anxiety in my heart, I walked over to him.
“I saw you sending a letter before, too.”
“My parents asked me to. Insurance forms or something.”
We continued talking about harmless subjects as we walked alongside each other.
After we’d gone through the school gate, Akutagawa suddenly muttered in a low voice, “Sorry about yesterday.”
My heart skipped. I’d left the two of them alone after Sarashina had appeared and gone home by myself, so I didn’t know what they had talked about. Or why she had been crying. Or the true nature of the stuff glistening on the tips of her slender fingers…
“Was that girl your girlfriend?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know who Sarashina was.
Akutagawa knit his brow and answered with some difficulty, “… Not anymore.”
“So you two used to go out?”
“… Yeah.”
What?
Sarashina had made it sound like they were still dating…
“Sorry. I can’t say anything else. It gets into her business.”
The creases on Akutagawa’s forehead deepened, and he pressed his mouth into a line. For some reason, my heart started to ache.
“No, I’m sorry. I won’t ask about it. Actually, my English homework…”
I changed the subject in my usual tone of voice.
After class, we rehearsed in the small auditorium.
I’d said I wouldn’t ask anything else, but I kept wondering what had happened between Akutagawa and Sarashina.
Akutagawa was intrepidly performing onstage as Omiya. It was the scene where he and Tohko as Nojima had their discussion about love.
“If a person is granted that extraordinary emotion called love, we have no right to mock it.”
I mulled things over in my mind. It could be that Akutagawa felt that they had broken up, but she didn’t. Maybe there was someone else that Akutagawa liked.
“At the very least, the Japanese are far too disdainful of love. Not you, Nakata, but they regard it as safer to give their daughters not to a man who loves them, but rather to a total stranger.”
And was it really my imagination that made it look like Sarashina’s fingers had been colored red?
“Sorry! I need a bathroom break real quick.”
Takeda pattered off between the seats, and we took a break.
Tohko walked over to Akutagawa with a smile.
“Do you have a second? It’s about the scene where Nojima’s book got lambasted and Omiya
“Well, your real voice is great to begin with. Omiya really is the perfect role for you.”
“… I suppose so.”
Huh?
That sounded dark. I was trying to praise him, but maybe I’d said something wrong.
And just then, Akutagawa’s eyes widened in surprise.
At the other end of the slowly darkening campus, an old cherry tree grew next to the school gate, rising up red and black in the sunset. Its darkly tinged leaves and gnarled branches fanned out drearily. Half hidden behind it stood Sarashina.
Her sorrowful eyes were full of tears, and her limbs and lips trembled, as if it was the middle of winter.
Sarashina suddenly ran at us and threw herself against Akutagawa’s chest, then brokenly begged, “Kazushi… what… should I do? Help me… Kazushi—”
Something cold shot down my spine. Sarashina’s fingers clutching at Akutagawa’s jacket—I saw they were covered in a red liquid.
Blood? Or was it only the light of the setting sun?
As sobs racked her body, Akutagawa wrapped his arms around her as if to hide her. He bowed his head over her, his face twisted in pain.
The next day, I spotted Akutagawa on the way to school.
He stopped his bike and dropped a long white envelope into a mailbox.
The moment I saw how tense his face was, I thought back to what had happened the day before.
I wasn’t sure whether I should call out to him, but then he looked in my direction and our eyes met.
“Morning.”
I gave him a slight smile, and after a moment’s hesitation showing on his face, he gave the same smile back.
“Morning, Inoue.”
Pushing down the thrumming anxiety in my heart, I walked over to him.
“I saw you sending a letter before, too.”
“My parents asked me to. Insurance forms or something.”
We continued talking about harmless subjects as we walked alongside each other.
After we’d gone through the school gate, Akutagawa suddenly muttered in a low voice, “Sorry about yesterday.”
My heart skipped. I’d left the two of them alone after Sarashina had appeared and gone home by myself, so I didn’t know what they had talked about. Or why she had been crying. Or the true nature of the stuff glistening on the tips of her slender fingers…
“Was that girl your girlfriend?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know who Sarashina was.
Akutagawa knit his brow and answered with some difficulty, “… Not anymore.”
“So you two used to go out?”
“… Yeah.”
What?
Sarashina had made it sound like they were still dating…
“Sorry. I can’t say anything else. It gets into her business.”
The creases on Akutagawa’s forehead deepened, and he pressed his mouth into a line. For some reason, my heart started to ache.
“No, I’m sorry. I won’t ask about it. Actually, my English homework…”
I changed the subject in my usual tone of voice.
After class, we rehearsed in the small auditorium.
I’d said I wouldn’t ask anything else, but I kept wondering what had happened between Akutagawa and Sarashina.
Akutagawa was intrepidly performing onstage as Omiya. It was the scene where he and Tohko as Nojima had their discussion about love.
“If a person is granted that extraordinary emotion called love, we have no right to mock it.”
I mulled things over in my mind. It could be that Akutagawa felt that they had broken up, but she didn’t. Maybe there was someone else that Akutagawa liked.
“At the very least, the Japanese are far too disdainful of love. Not you, Nakata, but they regard it as safer to give their daughters not to a man who loves them, but rather to a total stranger.”
And was it really my imagination that made it look like Sarashina’s fingers had been colored red?
“Sorry! I need a bathroom break real quick.”
Takeda pattered off between the seats, and we took a break.
Tohko walked over to Akutagawa with a smile.
“Do you have a second? It’s about the scene where Nojima’s book got lambasted and Omiya
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