Authors: Miyuki Miyabe
Yutaro was studying at cram school because it was too noisy at his house to get any work done. The instructor understood his dilemma, and let him use the room prior to classes. He got special treatment not because he had younger siblings—plenty of other students were in the same boat—but because Yutaro was the only one among them who would actually go out of his way to study. Everyone else just used noisy brothers and sisters as an excuse to goof off.
Wataru walked into the classroom, and Yutaro looked up. He twitched and glanced at the clock on the wall. He must’ve thought it was time for class to begin already.
Wataru waved and made his way over to the other side of the room. “Do you have a second to talk?” he asked.
“Sure. What is it?” Yutaro said, bluntly.
Wataru paused. Now that he was here, he realized he couldn’t just blurt out that he had come to ask him about the picture of the ghost. That would sound too childish. Still, after a bit of small talk, he managed to get around to the topic at hand.
“Oh, that!” Yutaro said, his face brightening. “It’s the talk of the school these days, I hear.”
“So was it really a ghost in the picture?”
“Nah,” Yutaro leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his perfectly combed hair. He was still smiling. “Sure, there was something that looked kind of like a face above this one particular azalea. But it could’ve been anything. We all acted like it was a ghost and had a good laugh about it, but I don’t think anyone really believes it.”
“You know the rumors that the half-built building next to the Mihashi Shrine is haunted, right?”
“Sure, everybody knows that.”
“You think there’s a connection?”
“A connection between a rumored supernatural presence and a smudge on Mitsuru’s Polaroid? Not a clue!” Yutaro laughed out loud. “I never figured you were the type to fall for that kind of talk, Mitani!”
Wataru’s face reddened. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed and defensive. He wanted to shout that he hadn’t believed the rumors at all from the beginning. He restrained himself, and instead told Yutaro about the incident where he had won the ire of the girls in his class by insisting they check the facts before assuming anything about the haunting.
“Heh,” Yutaro chuckled, nodding. His smile slowly faded. “I don’t believe in ghosts and all that stuff either. Those girls were just being dumb. Don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Wataru was mollified, but the conversation had ended before he heard everything he wanted to know. He wondered if he should tell Yutaro about Kaori Daimatsu. About how pretty she had been, and about how he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Yutaro would understand. He wouldn’t laugh at him, or tease him about it. Wataru opened his mouth, but the words that came out were, “So what’s Mitsuru Ashikawa like?”
Yutaro blinked, plainly startled. “What’s he
like
? What do you mean?”
“I saw him for the first time this morning. He looks kind of too perfect, like a…like a mannequin, you know what I mean?” Their encounter that morning had definitely been a “saw” not a “met.” Wataru wasn’t entirely convinced Mitsuru had even noticed him.
Yutaro shrugged. “He’s cool.”
Utterly casual. No reservations, no hidden meanings.
“Like a mannequin, heh?” Yutaro chuckled. “You should see the girls in class going crazy for him.”
It occurred to Wataru that Yutaro might not welcome this new challenge to his status as most popular in class. “Isn’t he a little strange? I mean, taking a picture and calling it a ghost, then taking it home and acting all cool.”
“I don’t think he was
acting
cool,” Yutaro laughed. “If you’re curious about him, you should talk to him yourself when he gets here.”
“Gets here? You mean he’s coming to cram school?”
“Yep. Today’s his first day.” Yutaro explained that Mitsuru had asked about good cram schools, and Yutaro had recommended Kasuga Seminars. He had obviously wasted no time getting enrolled.
“Good news for the girls, I guess,” Wataru suggested with a grin.
“Whatever. Let them get all excited if they want.”
“So how’s Mitsuru in school? He get…”
“Good grades? Yeah. He’s a good student.”
Wataru marveled at the utter lack of concern on Yutaro’s face. He really wasn’t bothered by this at all. There was no show of bravado, no false projected sense of security. He was perfectly natural. Here there was a clear threat to his position in the class pecking order and he didn’t seem to mind at all.
It was like he had already given up, or maybe…
He has nothing to lose.
No matter how good a student Mitsuru Ashikawa was, no matter how cool or handsome, it wouldn’t affect Yutaro’s status. It wouldn’t make him stupid or “lame.” He would still be Yutaro, still a good student, still a fast runner, a good swimmer, a good-looking guy who could do anything. None of that would change. In fact, having a friend of his own caliber would be a good thing. He wouldn’t have to be the only one excelling in class. And they wouldn’t have to fight for the title of “most popular.” They could sit side-by-side on that throne if they wanted to.
Wataru felt a pang of envy. How nice life would be in a world like that. How different it was from what he knew. In Wataru’s world, the more cool, able students there were in the class, the less room there was for people like him. There was a double standard. They could say whatever they wanted, and no one would ever get mad at a Yutaro or a Mitsuru. The reality of it stared him in the face. Mitsuru had taken a picture of the ghost himself, then dropped a line like “It’s not good to cause a fuss.” Certainly, that was no less cold or logical than what Wataru had said to the girls in class. But no one who was on that sketching trip ever thought Mitsuru was lame for not believing in ghosts.
What’s more, he could imagine Yutaro telling the girls, “You know, Wataru’s right. Until you go to the Mihashi Shrine and make sure that someone actually died there, you can’t say you know whose ghost it is.” They would have eaten up every word. It was an absolute certainty. If Yutaro says so, it must be right.
How utterly, totally unfair.
Wataru’s frustration rose in his chest, choking out everything else. A few girls came in, chatting about something, and Wataru retreated back to his seat. Seating in cram school was supposedly on a first-come, first-served basis, but people tended to pick a spot on day one and stay there the whole year. Wataru’s seat was exactly midway down the room, on the side with the doors.
Five minutes before class was to begin, their teacher, Mr. Ishii, strode in. Mitsuru walked in immediately behind him. The room was filled with students who were all talking at once. As soon as everyone saw Mitsuru, there was complete silence.
Most of the kids in Wataru’s class, however, came from one of three elementary schools. The first was Wataru’s school, Joto Elementary. The second school was also called Joto Elementary. Because of the high population in his district, there were several public schools for the area, each with the same name, and a number to tell it apart from the others. Wataru’s was Joto Elementary No. 1, the other that shared his cram school was Joto Elementary No. 3. The third school was a private school. For the kids from Joto Elementary No. 3 and the private school, it was their first time seeing Mitsuru, and the excitement was palpable.
The teacher made a few opening remarks, and then introduced Mitsuru to the class.
“This is Mitsuru Ashikawa, who will be joining us starting today. I believe those of you from Joto No. 1 know him already.”
Mr. Ishii was twenty-four years old. His real job was doing research as a grad student at a nearby university. Teaching here was his part-time gig. He was an easygoing fellow with a youthful face. He could be mistaken for a high school student depending on how he dressed. Still, he was incredibly smart, and a good speaker, and class was always interesting. The students liked him.
Standing next to each other, the teacher seemed small compared to Mitsuru. He looked mean, meager, and outranked. Everyone noticed it. If they didn’t know that Mr. Ishii was the teacher and Mitsuru was the student, it would have been easy to imagine things being the other way around.
“Hello,” Mitsuru said to the class. Another student might have been more formal, or given a full self-introduction, but for him, this one word was plainly sufficient. His voice rang clear in the silence.
Mitsuru found an empty seat and sat down. He caught Yutaro’s eye, and smiled. Yutaro smiled back. The girls sitting next to Wataru huddled their heads together, giggling quietly and whispering something. Their eyes sparkled.
Mr. Ishii preferred to lecture and then have the students work individually, so there were few group activities. Wataru would have little opportunity to gauge for himself whether Mitsuru was as gifted a student as Yutaro had suggested. Still, from the questions he asked in class, and the way he sped through the worksheets, it was clear he was a student of
ability
. It seemed that, against all odds, Mitsuru was the real deal: the transfer student who was just as amazing as all the rumors said. A meteorite.
Once class ended and it came time to go home, no one left. Yutaro and Mitsuru naturally formed a pair in one corner of the room, and the other kids naturally gravitated toward them. Not just the girls, but the other boys as well.
Wataru still had questions unanswered, but he didn’t exactly fancy striding through the crowd and blurting out something about the ghost photograph in the middle of all the excitement over the new student. Instead, he picked up his bag and headed home. He walked at first, then picked up his pace until he was jogging.
Am I running away? From what?
It was a rhetorical question. Wataru knew the answer before he asked it. He kept running, all the while convincing himself that he wasn’t escaping.
He opened the front door and shouted out, “I’m home.” Through the glass-paned door leading into the living room he could see his mother talking on the phone. When Wataru opened the door she frowned and slammed the phone down violently.
“What’s wrong?”
“Another silent call,” Kuniko said, snorting with anger. White steam bubbled out of a boiling pot in the kitchen. “That’s the third time today. It’s almost like they
knew
I was busy trying to get dinner ready…”
For the first time, Wataru realized that his mother wasn’t just angry. She was frightened.
“If they call again, I’ll pick it up,” he offered. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “Um, looks like something’s boiling.”
“Oh dear!” Kuniko launched into the kitchen, and Wataru went to his room and began putting away the things in his bag. As soon as Kuniko had the kitchen back under control, the rapid-fire questions began. How was cram school? What did you have for lunch? Fried rice for dinner okay? Wataru was used to this conversation and he answered everything perfunctorily, but his head was filled with Mitsuru. He found himself just wanting some peace and quiet.
He washed his hands and began setting the table when the phone rang. Wataru flew to the wall and picked up the receiver.
“Hi, it’s me, Katchan.”
Wataru gave his mother a look that said, “It’s okay.”
“You had cram school today, right?”
“Yeah. But this is a bad time to talk. We’re about to eat.”
“Oh, should I call back? Don’t want your mom to get mad at me.” Wherever he was calling from, there was a lot of activity in the background. It was hard to hear his voice. “I’ll call back.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Wataru hung up the phone swiftly. He knew his mother wasn’t fond of Katchan’s calls. But what if it was Yutaro calling? He was sure his mother wouldn’t frown at
that
. Best friends with Yutaro. Wouldn’t that please her? And what if they
were
friends? This was a thought that hadn’t occurred to him. Would Yutaro Miyahara be a better friend for him than, say, Katsumi Komura?
Wataru dismissed the idea as soon as he had it. Yutaro was a good kid, but would he be fun to hang out with? If he could find someone as well respected as Yutaro, and as fun as Katchan, that would be perfect.
Yutaro and Mitsuru.
Katchan and Wataru.
As he sat there in a daydream, the phone rang again. It had to be their silent caller this time for sure. Wataru snatched up the receiver.
“Mitani speaking!”
“Wataru?” It was his father.
“Oh, it’s you.”
“‘Oh, it’s you’? We need to talk about your phone manners.”
“We’ve been getting more silent calls. Mom’s getting scared.”
There was a pause. “Today?”
“Yeah, three times this afternoon already.”
Kuniko walked over and Wataru handed her the phone. He went back to sit at the table. Dinner was all laid out. He would be eating alone with his mother again tonight.
Kuniko talked for a while. He heard her agreeing to something, saying, “Very well, I’ll get it ready,” and then she ended the call with her customary, “Keep up the good work, dear.” Wataru had grown used to this habit of hers, and never given it a second thought until one day about a year ago, when a visitor came to their apartment while Wataru and his mother were there alone.