Credits
INCLUDE THIS SECTION UNALTERED IF YOU TRANSLATE THIS TO OTHER LANGUAGES
Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou—Mite, Aruki, Yorokobumono by Teriha Katsuki.
Illustrations by Hitoshi Ashinano
Originally published by Kodansha on October 23, 2008.
Based on Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou by Hitoshi Ashinano, published in Monthly Afternoon (1994-2006)
Raws provided by /u/horu_hosu
English translation by H. Berry (aitch99berry@gmail.com)
Cleaned color illustrations by Arturo Songor (@artson593)
Time Spiral
High up in the sky, the clouds swirled and flowed at an incredible
speed. The sun peeked through occasionally, but the radio warned that the
weather would be stormy for some time. Grandpa, as always, was ready for it;
he'd been nailing boards all over the house since early morning. I half-worried
I’d find the front door barred shut by the time I got back home.
I parked my bike in the front yard of the café as usual. The sound of
hammering nails echoed here too, though it came at an oddly awkward rhythm.
Alpha was on the terrace, wearing work gloves and fastening a board to the
windows.
“Alpha! Is the café closed today?”
She turned, flashing a smile as bright as a sunflower. “It’s open for a
little while longer. Want something to drink?”
I nodded, keeping my hands tucked into my pockets as Alpha came running
over. We stood at the front door side by side, and for a moment, our eyes met.
Until last year, my gaze only reached around her shoulder, but now I could look
straight into her purple eyes.
“I haven’t been able to get any soy milk or sugar lately…” she said
apologetically as she set a cup on the table with gentle care.
“That’s fine. The best coffee here is black anyway.”
She laughed gracefully.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Do you remember the first time you came here for coffee on your own?”
Feeling a little awkward, I looked away. “How could I remember? When
was that even?”
“About three years ago. I didn’t have any sugar then, either.”
“Really?” I chuckled to hide my embarrassment, staring down into the
coffee. Its dark surface reflected what I thought to be my unchanged self. But
Alpha was seeing someone very different from three years ago.
The silence that followed felt comfortable, but Alpha broke it softly.
“Takahiro… what’s the matter?”
Alpha’s concerned gaze made my shoulders tense. I nodded slightly,
mustering the courage to ask what brought me here in the first place.
“Alpha, do you remember the Misago?”
“Of course. Every time you come across her, you make such a big fuss.
How could I forget?” She smiled cheerfully, but I bowed my head, searching for
the right words.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange today…”
“It’s been a long time since I last saw her,” I said finally. After a
few moments of silence, I added, “I wonder if I’ll ever see her again… It might
sound silly, but—”
“It’s not silly at all.” Her gentle hand patted my head, soothing me in
a way only Alpha could. “Takahiro, you’re already 13 years old, right?”
I nodded.
“Hmm.” Her lips moved as though she were hesitating to say something.
After a moment’s pause, she seemed to decide. “Maybe… the Misago no longer sees
you as a child.”
I thought about that too, but hearing Alpha say it made my chest
tighten. The realization struck me in full force: the Misago disappeared after
that unusually frosty morning, the same day I clearly realized my feelings for
Alpha.
At that moment, I stopped being a child.
I understood now—it wasn’t my outward appearance that drove the Misago
away, but the adult feelings growing inside me.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling sad.
I remembered how she kept me warm during a heavy rainstorm, how she
invited me to go with her, and how she left when I said no.
I was never able to thank her for her kindness or apologize for turning
her away. I also wanted to thank her for showing me, so vividly, the sadness of
never growing old and the loneliness of being left behind.
It was because of her that I drew closer to Alpha.
“Even just once… I’d like to see her again and talk to her.” My voice
trembled as I spoke, and as if in response, I felt a soft breath on the back of
my neck.
Before I realized it, Alpha was standing behind me. Though I couldn’t
see her face, I felt her warm gaze on my back. Her arms stretched out, wrapping
gently around my shoulders.
“Time flows differently for everyone,” she murmured, her voice tender.
“And for humans, it never stops.”
Her sweet scent reached me, and my heart, instead of racing, felt as
though it was being gently squeezed.
I wondered if time would eventually pull me away from Alpha, just as it
pulled the Misago away from me.
I didn’t want that to happen.
As emotions welled up from deep inside, a sudden sound rang out from
outside the café.
Takahiro and I spun around at the sound. The cowbell clanged loudly as
the door slammed open.
“Taka, so you were here after all.”
It was Ojisan. Relief washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Please don’t scare me like that—”
But Ojisan didn’t smile back. His stern expression stopped me in my
tracks. It was so unlike him that it almost frightened me.
“You need to keep listenin’ to the radio. Once the weather turns
stormy, it’s too late,” he said, striding to the counter and turning the radio
dial.
The announcer from Radio Hamamatsu was detailing the approach of a
massive typhoon. Outside, the wind had picked up significantly. It whipped
through the café’s terrace, making the boards I put up creak against the force.
“I’m gonna help board up here. Taka, you go on home.”
Takahiro hesitated, startled by Ojisan’s unusually commanding tone.
“But I can help too. The windows aren’t sealed yet—”
“It’s fine. Go home. Alpha, grab your things; we’re headin’ to the
stand.”
“Huh?”
My heart skipped a beat. Takahiro looked equally confused, glancing
between Ojisan and me.
“It’s better to be cautious,” Ojisan said firmly. “The sea breeze is
way too strong here. Taka, what’re you waitin’ for? Go!”
“But I want to help Alpha—”
“Boy, hurry home and cover yourself with a blanket!” Ojisan’s sudden
outburst startled Takahiro, making him jump. He bolted for the door, slamming
it shut behind him.
I instinctively moved to follow, but Ojisan held me back with a firm
grip. “Have you boarded up the windows at the main house yet?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“Then grab what you need.”
“But what about the café?”
“I’ll handle it,” he said, already stepping onto the terrace to hammer
the remaining boards into place, “Just go!”
There was no room for argument. I sprinted back to the main house, my
mind racing.
In the end, I took what I thought was most important: the radio, my moon
guitar[1], my
camera, and enough clothes for three days.
While I packed, Ojisan finished boarding the café’s windows and even
took the time to stow my scooter and the weathervane in the shed. Before I
could thank him, he pulled me into his truck. We arrived at the gasoline stand
in no time.
“I couldn’t nail down the far-right shutter, but it should hold,” he
said as he waved me inside the stand.
I stepped into the building and bowed my thanks. He quickly blocked the
entrance behind him, hammering the door shut from the outside. The sound of his
truck rumbling away soon followed.
Inside, a table held a few candles and matches—another thoughtful touch
from Ojisan. I lit one, the small flame casting long shadows in the dim room.
My heart swelled with gratitude for all the care he’d taken.
But as the wind howled louder and louder outside, my anxiety grew. The
shutters groaned under the wind’s relentless pressure, and the eerie crashing
of debris hitting the roof made me jump. The sturdy concrete building offered
protection, but the chaotic noise of the storm was overwhelming.
When the lights suddenly went out, I screamed. My heart raced as I
fumbled for the candle again. Ojisan was right to prepare for a power outage,
but the oppressive darkness made the room feel smaller.
I clutched my knees as I sat against a chair, memories bubbling to the
surface. Back when I was just beginning to understand emotions, I used to feel
this same baseless anxiety. Back then, I couldn’t explain what scared me—I only
knew I was scared.
Owner had always been there to help me.
“What’s chasing you, Alpha?” he’d ask gently.
“I don’t know,” I’d reply through tears. “Something scary.”
He’d wrap me tightly in a blanket and smile. “Well, that scary thing
will never catch up to you. Not while I’m here.”
He’d make a game of it, pretending to grab the imaginary fear with his
hands, clenching his fist as if to crush it. Then he’d toss it away. “See?
Gone. Nothing to be scared of now.”
Those moments had always left me feeling light, like a weight had been
lifted from my chest.
Sitting alone now, I stared at the flickering flame and clung to those
memories. Owner’s voice still echoed in my heart, reminding me that, no matter
what, everything would be okay.
Even so, the storm raged outside, making it impossible to sleep. The
sound of rain and wind slamming into the building was relentless. It felt like
being trapped in the hold of a ship caught in a storm.
But eventually, exhaustion won out. I drifted off, dreams of Owner
filling my restless sleep.
I wanted to remember everything, but
the dreams slipped away as soon as I woke up.
After waking for what felt like the
hundredth time, I realized the roaring of the typhoon vanished.
The clock radio showed it was just
evening, though it felt like an entire day had passed while I drifted in and
out of sleep. Slowly, I stood and stretched, shaking off the haze of restless
slumber.
I moved to the one board Ojisan
hadn’t been able to secure. Pulling it aside, I was greeted by a gust of
strong, humid wind. The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared.
Grabbing my things, I stepped
outside. The typhoon had passed, leaving behind air that felt unnaturally crisp
and sharp. High above, black clouds were unraveling, torn apart as they drifted
south. Beyond them, the sky opened up into a vivid, washed-out blue, soft and
endless.
I raised my camera and took a
picture—a quiet souvenir of the storm’s aftermath—before beginning the walk
home.
The tall weeds lining the roadside
were flattened, as if a giant had stomped through, leaving the view strangely
expansive. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could see far into
the distance. My thoughts wandered: Is
Takahiro okay? What about Ojisan? I hoped they were safe. And then, a more
trivial thought crossed my mind: I wonder
if the seedlings I planted survived.
Not far down the road, I came across
an uprooted tree sprawled across the path. Climbing over it, I noticed one of
its branches was just the right height for sitting. I paused, taking another
picture to capture the moment before continuing.
The walk back took about thirty
minutes. When I finally caught a glimpse of the white house peeking through the
bushes and trees, my heart swelled with relief. My home had endured the storm.
The sea breeze must have been brutal here, but the house held its ground.
Excitement overtook me, and before I
realized it, I was running. I dashed down the road, leaping over cracks and
scattered branches, my steps light with anticipation.
Even though I’d only been gone for a
day, everything felt so nostalgic. The closer I got, the more the longing in my
chest grew. Pushing aside the tattered remnants of the grass fence, I stumbled
into the front yard.
I’m home! I wanted to shout, but the words
caught in my throat.
The café was gone.
The main house still stood, battered
but upright, but the café had been swept away without a trace.
My home…
My knees gave out, and I crumpled to
the grass. I don’t remember much after that.
It’s been about a week since the typhoon.
Leaving my bike in the garden, Alpha and I walked together down to the
cove. I sat on the revetment wall, feeling the warmth of the concrete seep
through the fabric of my trousers.
In the distance, the orange-hued sun was setting, and the entire cove
shimmered like a flame.
The fading light reflected off Alpha’s neck, tinting it with a crimson
hue. Despite everything, she gazed into the distance as if she let go of it
all. She somehow looked… content.
I didn’t know what to say… I hesitated. I was really shocked about the
café too.
When Grandpa told me what happened, I jumped on my bike to see for
myself. But it was already late at night.
Under the pale moonlight, the remains of the café stood starkly against
the exposed walls of the main house.
The place where I first met Alpha. The place I’d gone to countless
times just to see her. Where we talked about everything, from the trivial to
the deeply important. A place filled with so many memories, swept away so
easily.
My hands trembled as I gripped the handlebars. I nearly collapsed right
there on the roadside.
Then I heard the faint, familiar sound of Alpha plucking the moon
guitar.
She sat on a small trunk, playing a simple yet warm melody I’d once
heard her play at dusk on the terrace. But now, in the middle of the ruined
garden, it felt like a completely different piece—haunting and melancholic.
She wasn’t crying or angry. She played calmly, and all I could do was
watch from a distance, unable to say or do anything.
“The café… it was good,” I finally managed to say.
“…Yeah,” she nodded slightly. “Originally, it was just an extension of
the main house. I’m surprised it held up so well for so long. If you think
about it, I’m lucky the main house is still standing.”
She bowed her head. I wanted to comfort her with something like, We’ll rebuild it, or It’ll go back to normal, but the words wouldn’t come.
Alpha chuckled softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “A while ago,
Doctor Koumiishi told me about how the town she grew up in sank into the sea,”
a warm sea breeze tousled her green hair. She brushed the stray strands away
from her face with a graceful motion, “she said she felt relieved about having
nowhere to go. But… I’m not like her. Now that it’s happened to me, I don’t
feel that way at all.”
Her voice was steady, but I could feel the weight of her words. I
nodded silently, unsure of how to respond.
When she turned to face me, her eyes were bright and clear, as if she
were the one trying to comfort me instead. “It’s odd, isn’t it? The house is
still here, but without the café, it feels so empty…”
I searched for something clever or reassuring to say, but all I could
muster was, “It’s going to be difficult to rebuild it.”
“Yeah,” she agreed with a faint smile. “I asked Ojisan about it. He
said it’ll be tough to find the right lumber. And there’s the money too…”
“Yeah…”
“There’s no real way to make money around here.”
“Y-yeah…”
“So, I’m thinking of going on a trip for a while.”
Her words stunned me. “Huh?”
“No need to be so surprised,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “The
store is closed, and I’m taking this as an opportunity. I’ll go for maybe six
months, maybe a year… maybe longer.”
She smiled, her face lighting up with genuine excitement. She looked so
carefree, so innocent, like she didn’t realize how lonely her absence would
make me.
I wanted to yell, to cry, to stomp my feet and beg her not to go. But
instead, all I could manage was a weak, silly question.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded without hesitation. Her mind was already made up.
Still, I couldn’t help but plead, “Why go far away? You could ride your
bike to Minami and work there. You could save little by little… a-and then—”
She shook her head, looking confused. “That won’t do. I want to see and
experience things I’ve never seen before. I want to go as far as I can on my
two feet. I can’t really explain it, but… I just have to.”
Her determination was unshakable, and deep down, I knew I couldn’t stop
her. I lowered my gaze, feeling helpless.
“Oh, by the way, Takahiro…” She held something shiny out to me—a
scooter key, “could you take care of it while I’m gone?”
“Really?”
“You’ll need a ride, right? And it’s good to keep it moving now and
then.”
“But I can’t drive.”
“It’s easy. And you’re already as tall as me.”
I froze. She’d noticed—her eyes that once looked down at me were now at
the same level. Soon, I’d surpass her.
The thought hit me like a wave: Alpha was leaving. She’d be gone.
The idea of passing the western cape without her waiting there felt
unbearable. I didn’t know how I’d get through the days without her.
Maybe… if I used the scooter, it’d feel like she was still here, just a
little.
“Sure, I’ll give it a try,” I said.
Her eyes brightened. “Good! Please take good care of it.” She placed
the key in my hand, clasping it with hers.
“Wait, don’t you need it for a while longer?”
She shook her head. “I’m leaving tomorrow. If I hesitate, it’ll only
get harder.”
Without thinking, I tightened my grip on her hand, along with the key.
I don’t know when I’ll see her again.
This might be the last time.
All I could do was stare at her, dumbfounded. Her long green hair
glistened in the fading light, her eyes as deep and bright as the evening sky.
For the first time, I truly realized how important she was to me.
Her expression softened, turning both sad and gentle.
She stepped closer and buried her face on my shoulder. Her muffled
voice carried through the fabric of my shirt. “I’m sorry. I just need to do
this for a while.”
Her scent filled the air—a blend of sea breeze and something sweet.
Memories flooded back in vivid fragments: red water in the bath, a
frosty morning, her laughter under the silver light.
I wrapped my free arm around her back. For a brief moment, I wondered
if someone like Grandpa or Doctor Koumiishi would have done something more
meaningful.
But even as I held her, I knew. No matter what I said or did, Alpha
wouldn’t change her mind. She wouldn’t stay.
“I’m such a terrible guy…” I muttered under my breath.
“Huh?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” I replied with a forced laugh.
Maybe one day, I’ll forget
about Alpha.
The breeze whispered through the cove, leaving ripples on its crimson
surface.
Omega couldn’t stay in sync any
longer and quietly withdrew from Takahiro’s memories.
Back in the present, Alpha would
never again open her violet eyes. Yet, even in the Evening Calm, the thought of
losing them felt unbearable.
But Omega still couldn’t escape the
haze of those memories. No matter how much they hurt, he clung to that world.
Cutting ties with it would mean abandoning something irreplaceable. He thought
he was already halfway to becoming a resident of the evening calm.
As he swam through the thick fog of
recollections, he desperately searched for fragments of Alpha.
Slowly, her small figure emerged,
carrying a round canvas backpack, walking alone.
He followed her, their consciousness
overlapping. For just a little while longer, they could be together. Omega’s
heart trembled at the beauty Alpha found in the world, at the things she
cherished.
More memories began to flow.
Towns and roads that had long since
vanished, each one a vivid fragment of a bygone era. She traveled far from her
home, stopping wherever people gathered to make a living. Alpha interacted with
countless strangers—more than Omega could have imagined.
In those days of wandering, new
memories quickly took shape. Fresh surprises, fleeting anxieties, and joys that
felt unimaginable.
A year and a half passed. Once
again, Alpha found herself walking the familiar road down the western cape. The
scent of the sea grew stronger with every step.
The source of the evening calm’s
memories—the nostalgic essence of that place—enveloped Omega’s heart.
But as it did, something began
pulling at him with startling intensity.
Takahiro.
Relentlessly, Takahiro’s
consciousness tried to draw Omega back into himself.
Perhaps he and I are alike, Omega thought.
He didn’t want to feel the ache in
his own heart, yet he couldn’t stop Takahiro’s emotions. They swirled with a
force that was impossible to resist.
And in their depths, Omega
recognized something all too familiar—sadness that mirrored his own.
The sunlight gradually turned
orange, casting mysterious patterns behind my closed eyelids.
Even with my eyes closed, I could
tell the sun was leaning far to the west.
Some time has passed since I started
tending Grandpa’s stand. I say, “tending,” but all I do is weed the grounds and
doze off. No customers come anyway. Since I started working here six months
ago, I noticed Alpha was 80% of the business.
But she left on a trip long ago and
still hasn’t come back.
I vaguely remembered the loneliness
I felt when she first left. Yet now, no matter how hard I tried to picture her,
I could barely recall her face. I thought I moved on. If I ever see her again
and my heart doesn’t stir, I’ll know for sure I’m over her.
As if my thoughts summoned her, her
scent came to me vividly with the sunset. A gentle, soft fragrance—like flowers
or ripe fruit. Nostalgic. Comforting.
And impossible.
You can’t imagine scents.
My eyes flew open, and I sat bolt
upright, nearly forgetting to breathe.
She’s here.
Alpha.
She hadn’t changed at all.
“Hey… welcome back,” I managed to
croak, my voice catching in my throat.
She answered with a shy, quiet
laugh, scratching her cheek in embarrassment. “I’m home. Sorry, I wanted to
surprise you.”
Memories rushed over me like a
whirlwind, flipping through the pages of a long-lost album. Her face, her
voice, her aura—she was just as I remembered.
“You’re working here now? That’s
great.”
“…Yeah, Grandpa and I split the
shifts.”
“How’s Ojisan?”
“He’s doing well. He’s out in the
fields now. I don’t think he’ll come by today.”
As I spoke, my gaze drifted to her
shoes—deck shoes, their soles blackened by dirt. How far had she walked?
“Are you tired? I’ll grab you a
chair. Want something to drink?”
“Yes, please! I’m starving, too.”
I rushed to the office, grabbed a
folding chair, and dusted it off. There was only a little barley tea left, but
it would have to do. As I poured it into an aluminum cup, I realized how calm I
felt.
No excitement. No tears. Just quiet
surprise.
I’d really moved on.
The thought brought a strange mix of
relief and sadness. Carrying the cup and chair, I walked back to her.
She stood bathed in the pale orange
dusk, gazing at the grassy landscape. Nostalgia must have taken hold of her.
But for me, that comfortable warmth I used to feel when seeing her hadn’t
returned.
I handed her the tea. As our eyes
met, a fleeting moment of silence engulfed us. I realized something.
I was taller than her.
Her hair swirled just below my eye
level. For a second, we just stared. Her eyes looked different—like those of a
lost child.
I quickly looked away, breaking the
tension by handing her the cup. She sipped it and smiled, her face lighting up
like the first stars of evening.
We sat and talked. She told me about
her journey. Occasionally, I caught her glancing at my neck.
“Do I have something there?” I
asked, rubbing it self-consciously.
“Your voice has changed,” she said
softly. “Your Adam’s apple, too.”
During the year and a half she was
gone, my voice deepened.
“At first, I thought I had a cold,”
I said. “My voice got all hoarse and weird. But Grandpa said it was because my
voice was becoming a man’s.”
“I see,” she murmured, her eyes
narrowing in thought. Her expression was gentle, but there was a hint of loss
in her gaze. “Then I guess I can’t be the big sister anymore…”
Her words drifted on the evening
breeze, carrying with them a quiet melancholy.
The sky turned a pale purple.
“I should head home. Thanks for the
tea,” she said, standing and handing me the cup.
“Want me to take you home? I got the
truck.”
“Wow, you can drive now?”
“Yeah. Right after you gave me the
scooter, Grandpa taught me.”
“That’s great,” she said, then
turned her back to me, gazing at the western cape.
Her shoulders looked more delicate
than I remembered. Maybe I’d grown bigger, or maybe she’d grown smaller.
As I wondered, she turned back, as
if startled.
When our eyes met, a forgotten
memory surfaced—like something falling into place.
Her lips parted slightly, as though
she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Her violet eyes glistened, clear
and full of meaning.
“I think I’ll just walk home today,”
she finally said. “Give me a ride next time.”
She waved and left, never looking
back.
I watched her walk into the sunset,
unable to take my eyes off her. Those few minutes stretched into eternity.
“I’m really a terrible guy,” I
muttered, sinking into my chair. The warmth from where she’d sat lingered
faintly.
Move on from her? I was such an idiot. Why did I ever think that?
In a fit of anger, I slammed on the
brakes, making the truck screech into a halt on a hill overlooking the bay.
I was supposed to head home, but I
ended up driving around aimlessly, and before I knew it, the sun had fully set.
I pulled the handbrake and stuck my
head out the window. The salty wind brushed against my cheeks, turning around,
I could see the crescent moon and the first evening stars shining in the
western sky.
Even though we’d been apart for so
long, I hadn’t forgotten her at all.
Just one look, and all the feelings
I thought abandoned rushed back.
I stepped out of the truck and sat
on the grass by the road, laying back to look at the deep blue sky.
Several bright stars began to
twinkle. If I waited just a little longer, the sky would fill with a gushing
array of stars. It felt like my feelings were rising with the stars—building to
a point where I wouldn’t be able to contain them anymore.
If, by some miracle, Alpha accepted my feelings, what would happen next?
I would continue to grow older, but
no matter how much I wished for it, she’d never change. One day, I’d grow old
and die, leaving her behind, in this world that only grows lonelier.
I don’t want that.
With all my strength, I tore off a
patch of nearby grass.
Alpha will forget about me. I don’t
know how long she’ll live, but there will come a day when she’ll no longer
remember me. I’m sure of it.
I don’t want that.
If we go through the seasons
together, doesn’t that mean we’re in the same boat? It’s funny—when I was
younger, I thought that would be enough.
But Alpha and I will never be in the
same boat.
I need to get away from her.
I bit into the torn grass with all
my might. My tongue went numb from the sweat, and the near-painful bitterness
of it masked a deeper pain in my heart.
As usual, a warm New Year arrived.
Alpha wasn’t here last year. It’s been two years since we saw the year’s first
sunrise together.
I picked her up in the truck before
dawn. Sitting beside me, she tilted her head, saying she felt a little strange.
I understood. The boy who could only
cling to her back on the scooter had come to pick her up this year. She joked
that it felt like being tricked.
I’d return to my boyhood if I could,
but I can’t go back now.
The number of people on the eastern
cape has been decreasing every year. This year, no one came to sell food. Only
about twenty people are left. No one bothered to make a bonfire.
A chill crept up on me, and I
started shivering.
Alpha gestured as though to put her
arms around me. “Isn’t it cold?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah…
maybe we should wait in the truck until the sun rises.”
“It’s almost here, the sky is
getting pretty bright.”
“Well then, let’s wait a bit
longer.” I didn’t say anything else, just opened my jacket and wrapped it
around her.
I could feel her breathing.
I wondered if she remembered the
first time we came here.
Back then, Alpha had rested her chin
on my head. Now, after all these years, her hair was just below my chin,
faintly shining in the dimming light. The soft, unique scent that rose from her
was the same as it had been back then. I still couldn’t put that scent into
words.
“Ah,” she cried softly, as the sun
rose.
A golden light poured forth from the
mountains.
I have to do it. I have to tell her.
“…Alpha?”
“Hm?”
“I’m going west.”
“That’s great… when are you
leaving?”
“…Tomorrow.”
“That’s pretty sudden. When will you
come back?”
I hesitated, then answered firmly.
“I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”
I could feel her take a deep breath.
A long silence stretched between us, like still water. I couldn’t see her face
as she stared at the rising sun.
After a while, she spoke, her voice
husky. “Why?”
“I want to get a job. Something with
planes, cars, and machines.” It was only half the truth—the real reason was
that I couldn’t stay near her anymore.
She let out a long, thin sigh,
murmuring to herself, “…I was going to lend you my scooter.”
The morning sun rose in the eastern
sky in an instant. The light became more dazzling by the second.
“Where are you going?”
“A big city beyond Mount Fuji. It’s
called Hamamatsu.”
“That’s so far away.”
I nodded.
Her hair tickled the tip of my nose.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll try to visit when I can…”
She laughed softly, and I could feel
her body move. Suddenly, she turned to look up at me. Her purple eyes widened
as she gazed straight into mine.
Startled, I flinched. Without
warning, her arms slipped under mine, and before I knew it, she was hugging me
with all her strength.
“I’ll wait for you,” she murmured
against my coat, “waiting is the only thing I’m good at.”
Her words hit me hard.
Instinctively, I hugged her back.
Her slender body seemed unusually
weak in my arms. My hands pressed against her thin back, unconsciously
tightening my grip.
But no matter how sad she may be right now, no matter how much she may
miss me.
One day, she’ll forget about me,
that’s for sure.
Hoping that at the very least this
moment would be firmly engraved in her heart. I silently held the person I’d
never see again.
Takahiro quickly drove off after dropping me off at the western cape.
Standing in the front yard, I watched the truck shrink smaller and
smaller. The sound of its engine faded gradually, and soon enough, the only
thing I could hear was the gentle lapping of the waves.
As I gazed at the shadows of the tire tracks cast by the morning sun, I
thought of the boy who would never return down this road again.
I once heard that Hamamatsu is a very lively city. I was sure Takahiro
would have a good life there. Just as I had when I traveled, he’d experience
new things and meet new people every day. He’d surely have no time to remember
the countryside far to the east. Before long, he’d forget he even had a place
to return to.
And I’m fine with that.
I stretched as much as I could before turning casually toward the café.
I still didn’t have enough money or materials to rebuild it properly.
Though it was winter, the days were mostly warm, so I could work on the
terrace, which was now just a collection of wooden pillars and a corrugated
metal roof.
As I stared blankly, I could almost faintly see the shape of the store
before it was destroyed, emerging from beneath the corrugated iron.
Two tables, a large window, a counter, and a heavy wooden door with a
cowbell.
And Takahiro, when he was a child.
The two of us sat facing each other, talking about all sorts of
things—about the Misago, about fishing, and about Ojisan. We chatted about all
kinds of random things and spent irreplaceable time in this place. Back then, I
always felt as though he drank about 80% of the coffee. He’d often fall asleep
with his head on the table without realizing it. His face was so childlike, so
innocent.
When I closed my eyes, the image of Takahiro’s boyhood days came back
to me vividly.
I sat on the grass, still wet with morning dew.
“It’s too soon to miss him…”
I buried my face in my knees, listening to the birds singing and the
constant sound of the waves. I decided I’d allow myself to mourn the boy who
wouldn’t return for a while longer.
After that, Takahiro’s consciousness completely disappeared from
Alpha’s memory.
Omega stood stunned for a moment, watching those strong feelings vanish
as if they had never existed to begin with. He felt betrayed, left behind in
the ripples of Takahiro’s selfishness.
Helpless and alone.
From within the dew of memories, Omega gently looked up at the body he
left behind.
Beyond the mist, two robots stood on opposite sides of a counter, their
lips touching. Alpha was leaning slightly forward, her chin resting on her
hand, beside the empty shell of Omega.
If he were to return to that place, all that would be waiting for him
would be a robot that would never move again.
He didn’t know how many more memories of the Evening Calm remained, or
how much longer he had with Alpha.
Still, he couldn’t simply throw away the emotions Takahiro left behind.
Remembering every time he was in tune with Takahiro’s consciousness,
his heart stirred. He realized that he had truly loved someone, deeply and with
sincerity.
That was the most important thing for him, Omega thought, as he gazed
at his empty shell.
In the Night of Humanity, he truly had nothing.
Should I just stay here,
blending into Alpha’s memories, and disappear among them?
Having experienced the Evening Calm with her, Omega felt nostalgic. He
would be happy, he thought, if he could just fade into those memories, with
those people, and disappear.
But is that even possible?
He delved deeper and deeper into Alpha’s memories, so deep that he may
never return. He lost himself in the haze of memories.
Eventually, what came into view was the first thing he saw when he
entered the Evening Calm: the blue sky and sea, with a cape jutting out in the
middle of it all. Green trees swaying in the wind and a small white house
nearly swallowed by the wide fields.
As he slowly descended, he felt Alpha’s emotions again, as if they were
right before his eyes. His consciousness was completely immersed in the Evening
Calm.
He didn’t know why, but Alpha’s memories vividly recorded not only her
thoughts but also the memories of the people around her. Feelings Omega could
freely read.[2]
[1] Translated as Moon Harp by Roselia, using the Seven Seas translation
as it makes more sense given how Alpha plays it.
[2] This chapter adapts Ch62: Typhon (Café Alpha is destroyed in the
storm), Ch65: Shore (Alpha leaves the scooter with Takahiro) & Ch78: Violet
Eyes (Alpha returns to the western cape). Takahiro is not featured in the first
story. He doesn’t leave until Ch109: Childhood’s Ebb, while the conversation
between the two is similar (including Takahiro mentioning that he may never
return) he visits occasionally and never loses touch with Alpha.
Contents
Prologue
The Colors of Evening Calm
An Azure Shadow
Warm Hands
A Robot Dancing in the Light
Stars at the Bottom of the Cove
Time Spiral
The One Who Travels Through the Skies
Heron Cross
Flying Eyes
Epilogue
Afterword, Interview and Download links
If you liked what you've read here and would like to help to make more feel free to support on Patreon or Kofi!
Comments
Post a Comment