An Unknown Girl and Her Unknowable Friend
1
August 12 (Sunday)
Morning at home: As usual. Did drawing assignments, etc.
Afternoon: Met Izumi at three for tea at a café.
Evening at home: As usual. Continued with my drawing assignments.
With Izumi: met at the café by the station at three for tea (see “Restaurants” section for details on the place and what we had).
Izumi, a freshman in university now, is on summer vacation. She said her break is fairly long, and she thinks she’ll have time on her hands. Apparently, university students have their own worries. I joked that every day was summer vacation for me. She laughed and said, “You’re living the elementary schoolkid’s dream.”
We talked about my current situation. How my amnesia was not likely to go away anytime soon. But drawing is fun, and when I showed her the pictures I drew in my class, she complimented them.
She asked me what I wanted to do. After thinking about it, we decided to go to karaoke together tomorrow. But if I don’t feel like it, she said it’s okay if I cancel last minute. She’s always so kind.
I joked that I’d like to have a summer fling. She pretended she was a handsome guy and asked if I’d be her lover.
As usual, it was fun talking to her. We talked about boys. When I asked if a lot of guys at university were pursuing her, she said no way. She’s probably lying.
My past selves were wondering about it, so I asked what type of guy she’s into. She said, “I don’t mind telling you, but don’t write it in your journal.” She thought for a minute, then said, “Someone who’s bad at housework.”
When I asked why, she said, “Because I think I’m too sloppy to get along with someone who isn’t,” and laughed.
I wrote it down in the “Izumi” section even though she said not to. I’ll write it here, too, to be safe.
Izumi’s type: guys who are bad at housework.
I stopped reading over my year-old journal entries and looked up. Thunderheads were building outside my window, and painfully bright sunlight was shining in.
This spring, I recovered from amnesia. This is my first summer since recovering. I ate ice cream last night before going to bed. Really delicious strawberry ice cream. I’m able to remember what happened yesterday like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Now I can build up my very own life, Maori Hino’s life. That wasn’t true before this spring.
I recorded what happened between May of my second year of high school and graduation, plus the year or so after, on my computer. There are two main characters in my journals. Me and my best friend, Izumi. No new characters appear, but on the other hand, none disappear. I typed an entry every day. The one I was just reading was part of the section from after graduation. I was taking it easy, attending drawing class as a hobby.
There was a reason I wasn’t going to a test prep school or university. I was in my second year of high school when I got into an accident during Golden Week, and for about three years after that, I had amnesia. It was a particular type called anterograde amnesia. Simply put, I lost the ability to store new memories after my accident. But thankfully, Izumi stayed by my side through everything. With her help, and support from the high school administration, I managed to stay in school and graduate. Now that I’ve recovered from my amnesia, I’m attending test prep school. I’m hoping to start university two years later than my old high school classmates.
As I reread my journal, my phone buzzed. It was Izumi.
“Hey, Maori! How’s it going?” she asked.
I love Izumi. Hearing her voice is enough to make me grin. But I took a deep breath and forced my voice to sound solemn. I was lacking something important. Something essential. Why? Why was that?
“…Izumi, I have to tell you something. I just can’t figure it out, and it’s really bothering me.”
“Maori?”
“It’s summer vacation…and I don’t have a boyfriend!” I joked. I’d worked hard on that joke, which combined my lifelong lack of a boyfriend with the fact that it was summer.
There was a silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, and then Izumi burst out laughing.
“You caught me off guard with that one.”
“I thought you might be getting bored of the one where I say I can’t remember what I had for dinner three days ago. I hope you appreciate the effort I put into this.”
I smiled to relieve the tension I’d intentionally built up.
This was our usual routine, one that could only work with Izumi. She called me in the morning, and I pretended I still had anterograde amnesia. Maybe it was a tiny bit tactless, but it allowed me to turn my past disability into a joke.
Unfortunately, my memories from when I’d had amnesia haven’t returned. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the verge of remembering something, but the memories never rise fully to the surface. However, I didn’t need to be sad about that. Everything important from that period should have been written down in the journal on my computer. Everything should be preserved there as data. More importantly, I have Izumi for a best friend.
“Sorry for being such a weird conversation partner, Izumi.”
“No worries. Part of why I call you is because I want to hear your jokes.”
“They’re jokes, but they’re also cries of sorrow.”
“Hmm. Even though you don’t want to date anyone?”
“Good point. I don’t understand it myself. It’s very strange.”
Izumi and I were meeting that afternoon. Since I was on my brief break from test prep school, we were planning to have lunch and then do a little shopping for clothes and books and stuff to relax.
“By the way, Maori, what’s our look for today?”
“Since you’re wearing a tuxedo, I figured I’d wear my wedding dress.”
“Be careful you don’t step on its train and fall.”
We’ve been like this since high school. Our conversations were basically just banter. After making sure we weren’t wearing the same outfit as each other, we hung up.
I got my things together in time to meet her for lunch, said goodbye to my parents, and left the house. There was an interesting Italian restaurant near my test prep school that I’d been wanting to try, so I made a reservation and we arranged to see each other there. As I was walking toward the train station, I looked up at the sky. Thunderheads floated against an endless expanse of blue, and sunbeams poured down like pure light.
While I was staring up, I heard excited voices ahead of me. I looked toward them. A boy and a girl, highschoolers by the looks of it, were riding on a bike together. As they passed me, I heard them shout giddily, “Go! Go! We got this!”
How strange…
I felt like I’d ridden on a cargo rack like that myself once and said the same things. For just a moment, I felt like I glimpsed the back of a boy wearing a school uniform and pedaling a bike.
I tried to remember who it was, but I came up short. I must have been mixing up my memory of Izumi’s back. There was an entry in my high school journal about riding on a bike with her. On the verge of recalling something, I started walking toward the station again.
I got to the restaurant on time. When I told the waiter my name, he said Izumi was already there. He pointed me toward her, and I walked over.
“Hey, you’re not wearing your wedding dress!” she exclaimed when she saw me. We text each other every day, but we hadn’t met in person for two weeks, partly because I’d been busy with school.
“I’m getting ready for my entrance exams. It would be bad luck if I tripped.”
“Darn. I brought along my tux to change into.”
“Looks like we’ll have to postpone the wedding reception.”
I sat down. The waiter brought me a menu, and I bravely ordered the lunch special. Though I was feeling daring, Izumi seemed nonchalant.
“What, now that you’re a sophomore, Italian food is no big deal?”
“No! The only place I ever go to with university friends is the pub.”
“You don’t go to stylish places?”
“You’re the only one I go on dates with to places like this.”
She winked, and I couldn’t help smiling. As we were chatting away, the appetizers arrived. We had a good time, taking pictures of our food and all that. Eventually, the conversation turned to my studies, the university I wanted to go to, and Izumi’s school.
“You’re still not dating anyone?” I asked. She raised her eyebrows and smiled wryly.
“Unlike you, I’m not that cute. I don’t have any experience.”
“That again? I don’t have any experience, either. I’ve never dated anyone.”
“…You always turn guys down when they ask you out.”
“So do you! Remember our first year of high school when that guy in second year asked you out?”
“I do remember that! Ah, the good old days.”
“They’re still recent to me! My memory is crystal clear.”
Izumi always puts herself down by calling herself cold, or by saying that other people can’t tell what she’s thinking. But I know she’s the most warm-hearted person in the world. And the proof is that she tried to make every day of my life fun when I had amnesia. She helped me do the things I wanted to do and have a good time. My past selves were saved by that. I’m grateful to her from the bottom of my heart. But she seems uninterested in romance and never dates anyone. I’m sure guys at her university ask her out, but she never talks about it or anything else related to herself.
“So what’s your type?” I couldn’t help but inquire out of curiosity.
“I knew you were going to ask me that.”
“I’ve only asked you about three times in my life!”
“…I guess that’s true.”
Actually, I was lying. I’d asked her three times since my amnesia went away this spring, but I know I asked her before that. I wrote about it in my journal after we graduated from high school. She apparently told me not to write her answers down, but my past selves seemed very interested and recorded it anyway.
• Hates nice people.
• Doesn’t get along with people who are good at housework.
• No to anyone good at cooking.
• Doesn’t like considerate people.
• Incompatible with people who value their family.
• Looking for someone who’s not serious.
If I sum up the notes in my journal, that’s her type. Maybe I lack imagination, but I feel like the only kind of person who would meet those criteria is a real loser. That, or a workaholic who ignores his family and friends.
But when I asked her that same question today, she gave me a different answer.
“I’d prefer someone who’s not younger than me.”
That was a surprise since she’d never mentioned age before.
“But…why?”
“Why? I don’t know. Image, I guess.”
“Image?”
“Yeah. Younger guys seem kind of…servile. And naive and honest. I don’t think we’ll be compatible. I mean, someone like that shouldn’t be wasted on me…”
“Did something happen at university?”
“Nothing at all. How could it?”
She tried to brush it over with a smile, but I knew her too well for that. My guess was something did happen with a guy younger than her at school. Still, if she didn’t want to bring it up, she must not want to talk about it.
“Anyway, what about you? Anyone at the test prep school?”
“Me? Zilch. As far as they know, I failed my university entrance exams twice already. I’m a little older than everyone, too.”
“That’s great coming from someone who just got asked out a few weeks ago.”
We finished our lunch along those lines. Afterward, we went shopping in the neighborhood. Izumi has a tomboyish style, while I tend to like more feminine stuff. At the clothing stores, we chose outfits for each other to try on and took pictures to entertain ourselves. I bought a pair of pants that Izumi said looked good on me. We checked out some accessory shops, too. Time goes by so quickly when we’re together. Before taking a tea break, we stopped at a bookstore. I wanted to look at some reference books, and Izumi said there was something she wanted to buy.
“Wow, they’re still on display. She’s so popular,” Izumi remarked, looking at the stack of novels by Keiko Nishikawa, an author she likes. “The movie adaptation of this has gotten good reviews, and it’s still playing. I bet they’ll be selling these all summer.”
She smiled, then glanced at one of the books. There was a photograph of the author on display. Maybe because she was so pretty, I felt strangely fascinated by her.
“What’s wrong, Maori?” Izumi asked.
“Hmm? Oh, I doubt I have…but have I ever met this woman?”
“…I think you might have.”
“No way.”
“In a magazine or on TV.”
She grinned, and I realized I’d fallen for one of her jokes. We both went to purchase our books, then headed for a café nearby. Drinks in hand, we chatted happily. I’d bought a reference book and Izumi had bought a few novels.
Suddenly, I remembered something.
“Izumi, didn’t you say you were writing a novel? How’s it going?”
She looked a bit surprised.
“You remembered that?”
“I remember things now. You told me after my amnesia went away.”
“I know, but I’m still surprised you did.”
She’d told me about it during Golden Week. She was hanging out at my house, and when I showed her one of the pictures I’d drawn for fun, she surprised me by saying, “I wanted to find some kind of creative hobby like you…so recently, I’ve started writing a novel.”
In junior high, I was in the Art Club, and I used to draw every day. But in high school, I was too busy to join one, and I stopped drawing. However, I picked it up again because of my amnesia. I’d assumed that anterograde amnesia would prevent me from developing anything over time, but in fact, I was able to. It has to do with something called procedural memory, which is the name for things you remember with your body. It’s the reason that even people who lose their memories are able to ride a bicycle.
According to my diary, I was overjoyed to have found out about procedural memory. I was deeply grateful to Izumi for discovering it, and I drew every day. My skills improved, which was immensely gratifying. Though I’ve recovered from my memory loss, I still draw sometimes just for fun. As a result, I keep accumulating sketchbooks. It was one of those sketchbooks that Izumi was looking at when she told me she was writing a novel.
“That’s perfect, since you’re so erudite,” I told her.
“That’s not true,” she said modestly. “Keiko Nishikawa is a judge in a new contest that a magazine is sponsoring. They put out a call for photographs and paintings, too.”
That was the only time she’d talked about her novel. I wanted to ask her more about it, but maybe because she felt self-conscious, she changed the subject. Still, it remained in my mind. In the most natural way possible, I asked her what her novel was about.
“It’s nothing important,” she said. “I’d hardly even call it a novel yet. It’s just a way of collecting my thoughts and ideas.”
“So…does that mean you’re the main character?”
“No… The main character is a disgustingly kind person.”
I asked if it was a man or a woman, and she said it was a man. If the main character was female, she thought it would end up being too realistic or annoying. I got the sense she didn’t want to talk much more about it. But I was so curious that I decided to ask one last question.
“What happens to him at the end?”
She looked at me silently. When she answered, I glimpsed a quiet sadness rooted deep in her eyes.
“He dies suddenly.”
Izumi and I have known each other since high school. That might not be very long in the grand scheme of things. And maybe it’s presumptuous to call her my dearest friend. But I believe we’ll be friends for life. There’s no one else I get along with so well, have so much fun with, and respect and count on.
However, I realized then that in the three-year gap when I’d lost my memory, a part of her that I didn’t know emerged. Sometimes she looks sad. I don’t know if it has to do with her family or with school or with something else. Or I could be imagining it.
“Anyway, Maori, let’s eat our cake. I got hungry walking around,” she said, cheerfully interrupting my thoughts. I managed to smile back and nodded.
“Izumi?” I asked.
“What is it, Maori?”
“We’ll always be best friends, won’t we?”
“Of course! What made you ask that?”
“I was just wondering…if you might give your dear friend a bite of your cake.”
“So that’s your ulterior motive? Fine, but only if I can have a bite of yours.”
We enjoyed the rest of our time at the café and left around evening. When I got home, I noticed I had a message from her. I couldn’t help but grin when I read it. She thanked me for hanging out and sent a picture of us together at the café. We were both smiling happily.
2
Izumi brings me nothing but happiness. When she’s with me, she always smiles like she’s having fun, and she never reveals her worries or problems. But just because she doesn’t show them to me doesn’t mean they don’t exist. There are as many stories as there are people in this world, each one with its own joys and conflicts. Everyone has things they keep to themselves.
I was made newly aware of that fact several days later, on the last day of my summer break when I met a freshman from Izumi’s school.
Last night, I’d been talking to her on the phone, and we were having such a good time, we decided to hang out the next day in person. But then she remembered something. When I asked her about it, she said, “Sorry, I know it’s summer break, but I have to go to campus tomorrow.”
I’d always been curious about her university, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see it as long as I didn’t get in her way. We agreed that I’d accompany her.
I took the subway from my house and walked to her campus.
“Sorry to make you come all the way here,” she apologized.
“Not at all! I’ve been wanting to know more about your school, so this is perfect.”
We met at the front gate, signed in with the guard, and went in. The campus was way bigger than our high school grounds, with fancy glass towers. I’d expected it to be empty since it was summer break, but there were a few people here and there.
Since it was lunchtime, Izumi invited me to eat with her at the “nice” dining hall. I couldn’t believe how spacious it was, a far cry from the no-frills kind of place I’d imagined.
“This campus is much bigger than I thought it would be. It’s interesting. I feel like I could live here.”
“Please don’t. I don’t want you to turn into the seventh wonder of the university.”
“Along with the female ghosts who wander the campus every night?”
“Yeah, the ones who float around saying ‘Give me a shower! Give me shampoo!’”
Izumi said she had to turn something in to her adviser, so we agreed to meet up at the library later. After lunch, I wandered on my own, intent on walking around campus until she was done. But then I decided to head to the library before we were to meet, as the large structure had caught my eye earlier in the day, and it was open to the public.
It had been rebuilt a few years before, and the inside was quite modern. It had a good selection of magazines, and even some international fashion magazines.
As I was about to leave that section, someone came up behind me and said, “Um, excuse me.” I turned around to see a guy standing there. He was fairly tall, and slender, and looked to be a kind person. I guessed he was younger than me. What could he want? I’d checked in at the front desk, but did the staff think I was suspicious? I stared at him questioningly.
“Are you a friend of Wataya’s?”
“Wataya? …Oh, yes. Why?”
“Nothing. I’m a freshman here, and I saw you earlier at the dining hall. I live near campus, so I go there every day, even during summer break. And…”
He must have been nervous, because he was giving me all kinds of unnecessary information. So he was a classmate of Izumi’s and a year below her. I’d never heard Izumi mention him. But I guess that was to be expected, as she hardly ever talks about herself.
“Are you a classmate of Izumi’s?” I asked. He suddenly perked up.
“I am! Did she tell you about me?”
“…I’m sorry. I don’t think she has.”
“Oh.”
His happy expression quickly turned glum. Maybe it was rude to say this, but the way his emotions played out on his face was very entertaining. We couldn’t keep chatting where we were, so we decided to go somewhere else. He said there were several break rooms in the building. We went up to one on the third floor that he said wasn’t used very often.
“Um…actually, Wataya and I were dating before summer vacation started,” he said incredibly. Izumi had claimed she wasn’t interested in having a relationship, but she’d been seeing this very person! I was left momentarily speechless.
“You…and Izumi?”
“Yes. Although it wasn’t very serious.”
For a moment, I thought he was joking, but why would he have gone out of his way to find me and then tell me a lie, or possibly a joke? More importantly, he didn’t seem like the type to do that. Which meant the two of them really must have been seeing each other.
“I had no idea,” I revealed.
“From her perspective, it might not have reached the level of dating. That’s probably why she didn’t mention it.”
“…Maybe. She’s never been one to talk much about herself.”
At that point, I realized we hadn’t introduced ourselves. He said his name was Naruse, that he and Izume were in the same department, and they’d first talked at a party. I told him I was a friend of hers from high school. Like I did at test prep school, I left out the part about my amnesia.
“High school friends?” he echoed pensively. “Then you must know who she dated in high school. It seems like she still can’t forget about them.”
I was so shocked, I was positive my eyeballs would pop out of my head.
Izumi had dated someone in high school?
This was bewildering. Was it true? At least up till Golden Week of our second year, I didn’t think she’d dated anyone. She had always turned down everyone who asked her out. Then, after I developed amnesia, she spent every day with me. How could she have had time for a relationship? There wasn’t any mention of it in my diary, either.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that,” I said.
“You don’t?”
“Is it really true? I mean…I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. As we were staring at each other in confusion, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Izumi.
Sorry I took so long. I’m about done, so I’ll head to the library soon. Where are you?
I stared at Naruse.
Izumi had her own life, and she must have secrets and things she didn’t want me to pry into. Maybe he was one of those things. Maybe what had happened in high school was, too…
I wanted to leave it alone, but it could be related to my past. I’d thought everything that happened when I had amnesia was written down in my computer, but perhaps there were things I hadn’t included for various reasons.
“I’m sorry, Izumi’s going to be here in a minute. You probably don’t want her seeing us together, do you?”
I figured that was the case since he hadn’t approached me when I was with her. He panicked slightly when he heard she was on her way.
“Uh, yes… I’m sorry, but I’d rather she didn’t.”
“Do you think we could meet some other time? I’d like to hear more about this possible relationship she had during high school.”
He seemed surprised by my suggestion but said, “Of course,” and nodded.
We exchanged messaging IDs. Since Izumi could show up any minute, I quickly said goodbye and left the break room.
Sorry I didn’t answer sooner, I wasn’t sure if it was okay to use my phone in the library, I texted.
No worries. It’s always hard to figure out stuff like that in a new place.
I’m in the bathroom on the third floor. Should I go outside?
It’s hot out, so why don’t you wait by the magazines on the first floor? I’ll be right there. And don’t worry, you can use your phone as long as you don’t take pictures.
I went back to the magazine area. A few minutes later, Izumi arrived.
“Sorry you had to wait,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t waiting. I barely had time to walk around campus!”
“Oh, good. Did you have a decent time?”
“…Yeah. Everything here is so surprising.”
“Is it?” she said, and smiled. We decided to go to a café nearby. Like that morning, people turned to watch Izumi as she walked through campus.
“I think you’ll like this place. The atmosphere is nice, and they have good cake.”
Izumi had become even prettier than she was in high school, and more mature-looking. Perhaps because her mom was a designer, she had an eye for beauty and a good fashion sense.
I thought back to spring of this year, about six months ago. When she came to see me right after I’d recovered from my amnesia, her makeup was the same as in high school, and she was wearing familiar clothes. In hindsight, she must have done that so as not to surprise me, since things were still frozen in our second year of high school for me. She was trying to shield me from the drastic shift in time that had occurred.
As my own sense of time advanced, so did her appearance. She started wearing the kind of clothes and makeup she had on today. That’s the sort of sweet person she is. She has always supported me and considered my feelings. But…there were things about her I didn’t know.
You must know who she dated in high school. It seems like she still can’t forget about them.
What was he talking about? Had he misinterpreted something she said, or was it true?
Izumi noticed that I was staring at her.
“What’s wrong, Maori? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how cool you are.”
“Where did that come from? Are you by chance…after my cake again?”
“Darn, you caught me,” I joked.
“You’re easy to catch.” She grinned.
It was the same smile as always: free of worry, free of even the slightest hint of sadness.
3
I talked to Naruse again three days later, after test prep school. He offered to come to where I was, so we met at a family restaurant near my school.
“Thank you for making time for me, Hino,” he said. “I know you must be busy. Are you sure it’s okay for the two of us to meet like this? I forgot to ask if you had a boyfriend, in case he minds.”
“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve never had a boyfriend, so it’s all good. Also, you don’t have to call me by my last name.”
“Should I call you Maori, then?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
We sat down facing each other, and after the initial formalities, we dived straight into the reason we were there.
“So, about that boyfriend Izumi had in high school…I really have no clue what you’re talking about. How did you learn about him?”
“Well…,” he began timidly. He told me about his initial gaffe, when he told Izumi he bet she’d never had a passionate love affair, and her answer, and their fake relationship. All of this surprised me, but one thing in particular caught my attention.
“She told me the same thing when I asked her out as when she cut things off. She doesn’t like nice guys.”
It was the same thing I’d written down in my journal.
• Hates nice people.
• Doesn’t get along with people who are good at housework.
• No to anyone good at cooking.
• Doesn’t like considerate people.
• Incompatible with people who value their family.
• Looking for someone who’s not serious.
There was also what she’d said the other day: I’d prefer someone who’s not younger than me. I wondered if that had something to do with Naruse. I ultimately decided not to mention it to him and instead talked about the conditions she’d mentioned before. Naruse pondered this for a few moments before summing it up.
“So it’s possible that the guy she dated in high school wasn’t nice, was bad at housework and cooking, was inconsiderate, didn’t value his family, and wasn’t serious.”
I’d had the same thought. The problem was, who in the world would fall for someone like that?
“If Izumi did have a boyfriend in high school… And if she still can’t forget him…,” I mused.
“Yes?”
“Then what if he was the opposite of everything she said? What if she still loves that person, and she can’t move on from him? Maybe she’s purposely trying to date someone who’s completely different.”
Naruse seemed to find this revelatory.
“That…could be what’s going on. There are times when she looks incredibly sad, like she’s suffering. Maybe she’s remembering her old boyfriend.”
That made me think. He was right that Izumi did look really sad sometimes. Was it because she was remembering her old love? But Naruse wasn’t likely to know anything more about it. My only options were to scour my journals for some kind of clue or ask Izumi directly. Another possibility was to ask some of our high school classmates, but I’d never told them about my amnesia. Even though I’d recovered, I still felt slightly wary of seeing them again
“I’m sorry to pull you into this,” Naruse said, perhaps guessing what I was thinking. “If I hadn’t approached you in the library, you would never have had to worry about this. It was thoughtless of me.”
I was quick to reassure him.
“Please don’t worry about that. I want to know more about her myself. I was thinking about something else right now.”
“Really? I know I might not be much help, but if there’s anything I can do, please let me know. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
Having delivered this admirable speech, the young Naruse gave me a bright smile. It told me he was a sincere and warm-hearted person.
“You’re a nice guy, aren’t you.”
“Not at all. I’m only as nice as the next guy, and it doesn’t do anyone much good.”
For some reason, kind people always say things like that. Like they always see their own kindness as somehow inadequate or powerless, even though it’s the most noble quality imaginable. Like they genuinely feel they have nothing to offer.
But I couldn’t remember what situation from the past was giving me this sense of déjà vu. Maybe it was something that had happened when I had amnesia. No matter how much I shored up my own past with digital data, perhaps it was impossible to fully share in the feelings and thoughts of my past self. My mood grew darker as I ruminated on this.
“Thank you, Naruse. I’ll get in touch if I find out anything. Anyhow, since we’re here…”
So that he didn’t have to worry about me anymore, I made sure we had a pleasant chat. I took the opportunity to ask him about Izumi’s university persona. He mirrored my cheerfulness. According to him, Izumi engaged casually with her classmates just like she had in high school but basically kept to herself. He said everyone thought she was cool because of it. That sounded like her, I thought fondly.
“Sometimes, she hangs out on campus in places where no one else goes. I used to go looking for her just to be able to say hello.”
“That does sound like Izumi. And what does she do all by herself?”
“Reads books, thinks, and reads something that looks like a diary.”
“A diary? I didn’t realize she kept one.”
This was another side of her I was unaware of. It made me a little sad to realize how much I didn’t know about my best friend.
“…I know she was writing a novel, though,” I said, accidentally letting something slip.
“Really, a novel?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you that. It’s just…”
He smiled, seeming to sense my hesitation.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t ask about it.”
“Thanks, it’s a relief to know that.”
As we smiled awkwardly at each other, Naruse seemed to realize something.
“Ahh,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just that Wataya said she had stayed up late writing once, and I wondered about it. I thought maybe she was working on something like a novel. Ah, I miss those days. That was before summer break.”
He smiled sadly. He’d said it was only a pretend relationship, but I could tell he genuinely liked her.
“Cheer up, Naruse.”
“I’m sorry to be so morose. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
As if to demonstrate that he was okay, he told me about the dates they’d gone on. He said they’d seen the movie based on Keiko Nishikawa’s book.
“Izumi really loves that author,” I said.
“Seems like it. As far as I could tell from Nishikawa’s photo, Wataya even looks kind of like her. The cool type or something.”
“I know what you mean. By the way, Nishikawa is one of the judges for a new literary prize. Izumi told me about it.”
“A prize? That’s interesting… Wait a second. Those things have submission deadlines, right? Then maybe…”
He started to say something, then broke off with a smile and said, “Never mind.” I sensed his calm, gentle character in that smile.
4
August was almost over. Taking time off was well and good, but I couldn’t let myself get out of the groove of studying. I had to learn everything I’d missed during my second and third years of high school in one year. So I kept at it morning, noon, and night. I still made time to text with Izumi, though. Occasionally, I messaged Naruse, too. He’d started a part-time job a few days after we talked at the diner and seemed busy with that. I reread my journals during my study breaks, but I couldn’t find any clues as to whether Izumi had a boyfriend in high school.
One day when I was chatting with my mom, I brought up Izumi and Naruse. My parents know Izumi well and trust her. They are deeply grateful for what she did for me when I had amnesia. At first, my mom seemed pleased to hear that Izumi was dating a younger guy at university. But that changed when I mentioned the boyfriend from high school.
“Izumi never mentioned anything to me directly, but it seems likely she was interested in someone in high school,” I said. “A kind person who was good at housework… Someone who was family-oriented, I guess? Does that ring any bells, Mom?”
My mother froze. She stared at me wordlessly, then looked away.
“Mom?”
“Hmm? Oh, let’s see… I don’t know.”
She smiled reservedly. Was I imagining things, or did she look slightly sad? When I asked her what was wrong, she just shook her head.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about how old I’m getting,” she said, then added as if awestruck, “Izumi, too…”
I wanted to ask Izumi about it directly. But that would put Naruse in an awkward position. I imagined the conversation between us.
Hey, Izumi, did you like anyone in high school or date anyone?
What, why?
I was just wondering. You were so busy looking after me all the time.
She was sharp enough to know that if I said something like that out of the blue, I would have learned it from Naruse. But maybe if I broached the topic very carefully…for example…
One day in September when I had relatively little studying to do, I met up with Izumi in the afternoon to check out a new café.
It was popular among high school students. I’d seen groups of them in their uniforms chatting happily inside several times on my way home from test prep school. There were lots of photos of the place on social media, too. On this day, it was full of high school girls having animated conversations about fall semester tests and school and sports festivals. Watching them from the corner of my eye, I said out loud what I felt at that moment.
“Sometimes…I wish I could go back and have a normal high school experience.”
Izumi, who was joking around a moment ago, looked surprised. I was slightly shaken myself. My words had come out sounding more serious and emotional than I had intended. I smiled to gloss over the solemn mood and continued in a lighthearted tone.
“I mean, thanks to you, I enjoyed every day. If I never had amnesia, I would remember all of it. But more than anything, I just feel bad for what you had to do. Ha-ha!”
“Maori…”
“Oh, don’t take me too seriously. It’s just that you always had to accommodate my needs. I worry that you didn’t get to do the things you wanted to do. You never mentioned that you liked anyone back then, but did you? If it hadn’t been for me, maybe you and that person…”
I was trying to learn more about her, but I really did feel like I’d stolen her time and opportunities, and I felt horrible about it. Simultaneously, I felt renewed gratitude toward her.
“Maori, why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”
For a second, she looked serious, but then, maybe to match my mood, she brightened up.
“No reason, really, but you know I still reread my high school diaries on my computer. Everything in there is about me, and it made me wonder what was going on with you.”
I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but she still smiled back. With her mouth, at least. With that smile on her face, she sank into thought. She stared at the table. My heart was beating quietly but strongly. There might be things that Izumi has never told me. Maybe I’ll finally learn what they were today. That was what I thought.
“No, there wasn’t anyone. I didn’t have any high school crushes.”
That’s why I was so taken aback when she looked up at me with a smile and said that. She was gazing at me earnestly. I’d thought that by asking her about it, I would learn of her true feelings. I’d thought I would hear high school stories I didn’t know. But her gaze was completely calm and clear. It held no sense of deception or falsehood.
But perhaps it was too calm. Too clear, like an empty blue sky.
“Thanks for always being so considerate,” she said. “In high school, you used to say the same thing, that you felt bad I had to accommodate you.”
She glanced away, then grinned softly, tenderly. Then, she looked back at me and continued.
“But you know what? I had a lot of unique experiences thanks to you.”
She must have been talking about affectionately supporting a friend with memory loss—me. She would never mention this, but I know I must have been a real pain in the butt when I had amnesia. Yet Izumi had stuck by me all the same. And she was still making time for me.
She paused slightly, then went on.
“My life was boring until I met you. I felt like I knew all about life, and I never did anything stupid or crazy. But after I met you in high school… Maybe it’s bad to put it this way, but after things got a little hard for you, I felt like I learned something important about myself.”
She was looking directly at me, smiling calmly.
“Thank you, Maori. Thank you for being my friend.”
I…didn’t know that. I didn’t know she could smile like that. Like she held something dear and treasured and respected it from the bottom of her heart.
There was a light inside her. A light people couldn’t see. A warm, kind glow that maybe she herself didn’t even realize had emerged, like a wellspring. It hadn’t been there when I’d known her in high school. I wondered where she had gotten it from. Where had she found it? When had she changed?
As I sat there, quietly struck by this realization, she said thoughtfully, “I’m sorry, was that a bit too heavy?”
“What? Not at all. Just…thank you, Izumi.”
“Anyway, I enjoyed high school in my own way. But I’m sorry to say there was never anyone I liked or dated,” she joked.
That was the end of our conversation about high school. She never liked anyone or dated anyone then. That was what she decided. Or maybe it was the truth.
After we separated for the night, I sent a message to Naruse. I told him she’d said that she didn’t like or date anyone in high school.
Later, after I got back home, I got a reply. Thank you for letting me know. I realize you’re busy with studying. I’m sorry I pulled you into this!
I looked at it for a long time. There are so many kind people in the world. The world is overflowing with human emotions. As I was thinking about Izumi, my thoughts suddenly shifted to myself.
…What about me?
Did I like anyone in high school?
Maybe I didn’t have the capacity for it, since I had anterograde amnesia. There wasn’t any mention of a crush in my journal. But why hadn’t I developed feelings for anyone since recovering? No matter how kind or handsome or trustworthy a person was, I felt nothing for them.
It was like my heart was already devoted to someone else.
Later that fall, I found a drawing in my room of a guy I didn’t know. I was sure from the style that I had drawn it several years earlier. For some reason, it was tucked into the gap between my bookshelf and the wall, like I’d hidden it as if it was a treasure that I didn’t want anyone to take away. It was in the place where I used to keep important things when I was little.
When I saw that unfamiliar face, my heart started pounding.
I was confused by how hard it was beating. I felt like it was trying to tell me something. I wasn’t sure if I recognized him or not, and I didn’t think I knew him…but strangely enough, I also felt like I knew him very well.
It wasn’t until later that I learned who he was. That I learned who Tooru Kamiya was. How he was the boy I’d met when I had amnesia, the boy who I fell in love with…