Rhythmic exercises, as you now know, is a required course for girls in the Q School system. They say that when you move your arms and legs in different directions at the same time you exercise your brain; it’s supposed to be the kind of exercise that prolongs your life. But I never practiced the steps at home, so I was never any good at it. Of course, if you were the first one to make a mistake, you attracted attention. So I tried to hang in there until others started to mess up and get disqualified. I was doing just that when Yuriko came by with Kijima Junior. I noticed them staring at the class.
I hadn’t seen Yuriko for some time, and in the interim she had grown even more beautiful. Her breasts were now so full it looked as if they would come bursting through the white blouse of her school uniform at any minute, and her hips, high and round, pressed tightly against her tiny tartan skirt. Her legs were long and straight and perfectly shaped. And then there was her face: her white skin, her brown eyes, and her expression, so soft and beautiful; she looked as though she were constantly getting ready to ask a question. Even an immaculately crafted doll could not have been as lovely.
I was so surprised by the way Yuriko had matured that I lost my concentration and missed one of the steps. Those who made a mistake had to leave the ring of dancers. My exit from the ring was earlier today than I had hoped, and it was all because of Yuriko. I hated her for sneaking up on me. I hated her more than I could stand. Get the hell out of here! I screamed at her in my heart. Then I heard my classmates’ derisive laughter.
“Look at Kazue Sat—dancing like a friggin’ octopus!”
Kazue was doing her best to keep up with the music. She didn’t want to lose to Mitsuru. Besides, she had to prove me wrong; hard work does pay off. Her face was creased with concentration while Mitsuru’s was calm and cool, her arms and legs moving lithely left and right. She was so graceful she made it look more like a ballet than a gym exercise. And then Kazue caught sight of Yuriko and stopped dead in her tracks with a look of astonishment. At last she’d seen a monster. When I saw the shock on Kazue’s face I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Sorry about earlier,” Kazue said. She had come chasing after me as soon as class was over. “Shall we let bygones be bygones and just try to get along?”
I didn’t answer. Kazue’s sudden change in attitude made me wary.
“Your younger sister…” The sweat was pouring off Kazue’s forehead in rivulets, and she didn’t even try to wipe it off. “What’s her name?”
“Yuriko.”
I couldn’t tell if Kazue was jealous or impressed or bitter. Her voice was thick with some kind of strange excitement.
“Wow, even her name is pretty, isn’t it. I can hardly believe she’s even the same species as us!”
Kazue’s words were so inflamed with feeling that she continued to repeat the same lines over and over as the pungent smell of sweat wafted from her body. It really was a pungent smell—signalling the intensity of Kazue’s feeling for Yuriko, I suppose. Without thinking I lowered my face. It was clear that Kazue’s world was changing, now that she’d caught a glimpse of the monster.
Yuriko had just left the school grounds with Kijima Junior. To see the deviant little Kijima tagging along after Yuriko led me to suspect he was up to no good. I wanted to pay the little twerp back for the humiliation I had suffered in the earlier class. I decided then and there that I wanted to drive the Kijima father-and-son team out of school along with Yuriko as soon as I could.
A few days after this, as I was leaving school, I heard Kazue come bounding after me. She pressed a small envelope into my hand. I opened it up while I was on the train. The letter was written on two sheets of girlish notepaper printed with violets. Kazue’s handwriting was pretty but lacked distinguishing characteristics.
Please forgive the informality of this letter.
Both you and I are outsiders at Q High School for Young Women. You have come to my house, you have met my parents, and so you are perhaps the person with whom I am most likely to become friends. My father told me I shouldn’t interact with you because your background is so unlike my own. But if we communicate in letters, I’m sure he won’t know. Shall we send each other letters from time to time like this? We can confide in each other and talk about our studies.
I think I have probably misunderstood you. Even though you are an outsider like me, you always seem so composed that I feel you’ve been a student at this school for a long time. And then you’re always talking to Mitsuru, so it’s hard for me to get close to you, and when I do you keep your distance.
I don’t know what the other students at Q High School for Young Women are thinking (particularly the insiders!), and I feel very out of place. But I am not ashamed of myself. I had my sights set on entering Q High School ever since first grade, and I got in on account of my hard work—and my hard work alone. So I have confidence in myself. Why shouldn’t I? I believe I am going to achieve my goals. Things are going to turn out well for me, and I will lead a happy and successful life.
But there are times when I’m not certain what to do, and I don’t know whom I can talk to. And so without really thinking, I’ve written to you. There’s something troubling me. May I please discuss it with you?
Yours,
Kazue Sat
Phrases like Please forgive the informality of this letter must have been something she copied from a letter-writing primer for adults. The very image of her sitting there copying from a manual made me laugh. I certainly had no interest in discussing her problems with her. But I was curious to know just what this troubling matter was, and I did want to know what was going on in her head. I suppose there’s nothing more interesting than other people’s problems.
That night, while I was absentmindedly turning thoughts like that over in my mind, I worked on my English homework. My grandfather, who was preparing the evening meal, stuck his head out of the kitchen and asked, “Did you say the Blue River bar is owned by the family of a kid in your class?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Mitsuru and her mother works there.”
“Well, that’s surprising. I thought we were the only ones from a place like this with a kid at the Q High School for Young Women. But then the other day I met a fella who works security at the Blue River in front of the station. He’s a graduate of the same school as the super here. They’re good friends, it seems, and the super’s always going over to his place. He called me to go by and look at some plants that were giving them trouble, and that’s how I learned the daughter of the mama-san there goes to Q High too, and it sounded like she was in your class. So I’ve been thinking I might go by for a drink, given our connections. Coincidences like that make life worth living.”
“Yes, why don’t you? Mitsuru’s mother told me to tell you to stop by sometime.”
“Did she? I was afraid I’d just be a nuisance, being such an old fogy and all.”
“I don’t think that matters. As long as you’re a customer, that’s all that counts, right? I already told her about you—that you like bonsai—so I’m sure she’ll be happy for you to come by.”
I was mostly just humoring my grandfather. But it seemed he took my words to heart. The next thing I knew I heard him in the kitchen, happily rinsing the rice and chopping vegetables.
“I bet Blue River’s pretty expensive. All the hostesses are young. I wonder if they’ll give me a bit of a discount.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied. I was more interested in Kazue’s letter. I pulled it out, placed it on top of my English textbook, and read it again. I decided to ask her about it tomorrow.
“I read your letter. So what’s this problem you wrote about?”
“Let’s talk where no one else can hear us, okay?”
Acting like she was getting ready to reveal classified information, Kazue led me to an empty classroom. “It’s kind of hard to talk about it with someone else,” she said.
“But you want to talk about it, don’t you?”
“Okay, here
goes. I’m ready.”
Kazue placed her hands on her cheeks shyly. She opened her mouth to speak any number of times but stopped each time to search for the words she wanted.
“Okay. It’s like this. See, I like Professor Kijima’s son, Takashi Kijima, so I want to know what’s going on between him and Yuriko. I mean, when I saw Kijima with Yuriko it made me so upset I haven’t been able to sleep.”
“He really does have an attractive face, doesn’t he?” As I said this I thought of Kijima’s reptilian body and his darting eyes.
“I really like that kind of face,” Kazue said. “He’s so delicate and pretty for a boy, and tall, and cool, and—I’m just crazy about him! The first time I saw him was just before summer vacation. I ran into him at the bookstore in front of school and thought right then that he was really cute. I was completely shocked when I learned he was Professor Kijima’s son. I’ve done a little background checking on the family, so I know that they live in Den’enchf, an upscale neighborhood. Professor Kijima’s a graduate of the Q School system, and Kijima’s younger brother is in the elementary division. I also learned that Professor Kijima always takes the family on a summer vacation and lets the children help him collect his insect specimens.”
I gasped. So that’s why Kazue lost the rhythmic exercise competition to Mitsuru! But that wasn’t all. I knew Kazue was a gymnosperm but here she was trying to find insects and animals to partner with. Could there be another woman alive who was less self-aware? And Kijima of all people, with his shifty eyes! Such delicious irony. It was all I could do not to laugh in Kazue’s face.
“Is that right? Well, I sure hope everything works out for you!”
“Do you think you could ask Yuriko about Kijima for me? I mean, she’s so pretty and all, I’m sure Kijima likes her. And the thought of it makes me so crazy I can’t even sleep. But I think there may be hope for me yet. The other day he smiled at me!”
Oh, I doubt that was a smile. We’re talking about Kijima, after all. It was more likely a smirk brought on by Kazue’s stupidity. But this information was a godsend. I’d been dreaming of a way to get rid of the Kijima father-and-son duo, and Yuriko too. I started scheming.
“I’ll see what I can learn from Yuriko. I’ll find out what her relation is with Kijima, and then I’ll find out what kind of girl Kijima likes, okay?”
Kazue held her breath and nodded.
I looked at her anxious expression and added, “Is it okay if I let her know that you like Kijima?”
Kazue looked terrified and shook both her hands back and forth. “No, no, no! Please don’t let her know. I don’t want anyone to know yet. Maybe I’ll tell her later.”
“Got it.”
“But there is one more thing I’d like you to find out, if you can do it without being too obvious.” Kazue said, she pulled up her navy-blue knee socks, which had started to bunch around her ankles. “Find out if he’d be interested in a girl who’s a year older than him.”
“What difference does it make if the girl’s a year older or not? We’re talking about Professor Kijima’s son. I’m sure he’s more interested in a girl’s intelligence than her age.”
She squealed slightly and opened her tiny eyes as wide as I’d ever seen them.
“You’re right. And Professor Kijima’s handsome too. I love his biology classes!”
“All right. I’ll call Yuriko tonight and see what she says.”
I lied. I didn’t even know the Johnsons’ telephone number. But Kazue lowered her head with a worried look.
“Please be careful. Your sister’s not the type to gossip, is she?”
“Oh we’re both very tight-lipped. Don’t even think about it.”
“Really? That’s a relief.” Kazue glanced at her watch. “Well, I’d better go show my face at the team meeting.”
“Have they let you skate yet?”
Kazue nodded uncertainly and picked up the navy-blue gym bag that all the team members carried.
“They told me when I made myself an outfit they’d let me skate. So I made one.”
“Can I see?”
Reluctantly she pulled her skating suit out of her bag. It was navy and gold, the Q School colors. The cut and design was exactly like one of the cheerleaders’ costumes.
“I put the spangles on myself,” she said, holding the costume up to her chest.
“It looks like a cheerleader’s uniform,” I said.
“It does?” Kazue looked perturbed for a second. “You think I made it look like a cheerleader’s uniform because I wasn’t allowed to join the squad, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think so, but others might.”
Kazue’s face clouded over when she heard my frank response, but then she mumbled—almost as if talking to herself—“Too late now, I’ve already made it. I made it like this because I like the Q School colors, that’s all.”
Kazue was very adept at deluding herself, I’ll give her that much. In no time at all she could warp reality into meeting her own needs. I really, really hated that tendency of hers.
“What kind of girls do you think Kijima likes? I mean, girls from which clubs? What am I going to do if he hates girls on the ice-skating team? Or what if he’s one of those frivolous types who only likes the girls on the cheerleading squad? Then what’ll I do?”
“Don’t worry. The ice skaters are just as vivacious as the cheerleaders. He’s bound to like girls on that team. At least it’s better than the basketball team! And I’ll bet he likes girls who are good in school.”
“Really? Do you think so too? Ever since I fell in love with Kijima, I’ve enjoyed my studies even more.”
Kazue spoke happily, spreading her uniform across the desk. Then she balled it and stuffed it back in her gym bag. Kazue was too impossibly clumsy to do anything neatly.
“Oops, I’ve got to run. If I’m late I’ll have to polish the senior girls’ blades. See you later!”
Kazue snatched up the bag that contained her uniform and skates and bounded noisly out of the room. After she left I sat in the classroom for some time alone. It was autumn and nightfall was early. In no time at all it had grown dark. My rear end began to hurt. I noticed a line of graffiti on the edge of the desk where I was sitting. Someone had written Love…love…I love Junji! with a felt-tip pen. Love…love…I love Takashi! Love…love…I love Kijima…. Without really thinking about it, I was led by association to imagine other lines to write, recalling the passion that had hovered in the air between Mitsuru and Kijima. I let out a long sigh.
I’ve never once in my entire life been in love with a man. Yes, I’m a human being who has gone through life just fine without ever experiencing that hovering lump of passion. And I have no regrets. Kazue was not so different from myself. Why was she not able to appreciate this?
It was past nine o’clock. I’d just gotten out of the bath and was heading to the sitting room to watch TV when the front door opened and my grandfather stepped into the apartment. He’d been out drinking. His face was bright red, and he was out of breath.
“Well, you sure are late. I went ahead and ate.”
I pointed to the dishes with my grandfather’s portion of the meal that I’d left on the little tea table: mackerel stewed in miso, boiled greens, and pickles. My grandfather had fixed it before he went out. My grandfather let out a long breath without saying anything. He was wearing a suit I’d never seen before, garish, with thick black stripes over a bright green background. His short-sleeved shirt was a pale yellow, and he wore a black string Texas tie with a strange-looking cloisonné fastener. Grandfather had small hands for a man, and as he loosened his tie strings he started to chuckle to himself, as if he’d just remembered something. No doubt he’d paid a visit to the Blue River.
“Grandpa, did you go to Mitsuru’s mom’s bar?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Was Mitsuru’s mom there?”
“Uh-huh.”
My grandfather’s reticence was odd, given his usual loquaci
ty.
“So how was it?”
“What a wonderful person!” Grandfather mumbled in response, more to himself than to me. He turned to look at the bonsai he’d left outside and then stepped onto the veranda, obviously not interested in further conversation with me. He never left the bonsai out in the evening dew, so I found his behavior particularly disconcerting.
That night I had a bizarre dream. My grandfather and I were floating endlessly on an ancient sea. Everyone was there: my dead mother; my father, who is now living with a Turkish woman. Some of us sat on the black rocks scattered across the ocean floor while others lounged about on the gritty sand. I was wearing a green pleated skirt that I had loved as a child. I remember rubbing my hand along the pleats and thinking how wistful it made me feel. My grandfather was dressed in the same stylish outfit he’d worn to the Blue River. The ends of his string tie floated in the water. My parents were wearing what they always wore at home. They looked like they did long ago. They looked like they did when I was a child.
The sea began to fill with plankton, which looked very much like swirling flakes of snow. When I turned to gaze up at the surface of the water, I could tell that the sky above it was clear and bright, and yet for some reason my family and I were happily living our lives on the dark floor of the ocean. Such a weird and yet tranquil dream. And how telling that Yuriko was nowhere to be found. Without her I felt relaxed and peaceful, and yet I could also sense a tension as I waited, wondering when she might make her appearance.
Kazue came swimming along in her cheerleader’s uniform, her hair jet black and her eyes set with determination. She was wearing flesh-colored tights, so I realized it was her ice-skating costume, not a cheerleader’s uniform. Kazue moved with intense concentration to the tempo of the rhythmic exercise music, but because she was underwater her movements were slow and languid. I began to laugh. I wondered if Mitsuru was around too and looked around for her. Mitsuru was holed up in a wreck on the ocean’s floor, studying. Johnson and Masami were sitting on the deck of the wreck. I thought I’d head in that direction when all of a sudden everything around me grew dark. A giant figure had cast a shadow over the surface of the water, blocking out the rays of the sun. I looked up in surprise.