Prompt 3: We're all about cliques, yo! - Team AU
Title: I hope the sun and moon make friends
Rating: PG
Pairing: None. Gen.
Summary: Five boys meet each other in a rural town one summer, and the world suddenly is in order. Set in the early ‘90s, before mobile communications were a popular means of keeping in touch. Inspired by ZONE’s Secret Base.
Prompt: We’re all about cliques, yo
Warnings: ~14000 words.
Notes: Many thanks to The Flower for beta-ing at such short notice. You are much loved.
Teru teru bozu
Kana
Otoshidama
Ikeda in summer
Secret Base video and lyrics
In the fall, Aiba’s grandmother moved back to Ikeda, her sparsely-populated valley hometown in rural Fukui Prefecture. The decision came swiftly after her husband’s funeral. No one questioned it because Aiba’s grandmother was quite the matriarch.
When the following summer arrived, Aiba’s father decided they should visit because she was his mother and he was her only son. The family packed up and made their way to Ikeda, spending five hours on trains and another in a rental car.
Aiba’s grandmother had returned to her family home, in a village between two mountains. Aiba thought the large, sprawling traditional residence was cool. His brother thought the whole arrangement really sucked and whined about how his friends were all going to the beach for summer so why couldn’t they have gone too; Aiba’s mother boxed his ears because Obaa-chan was just old, not deaf. Aiba’s mother was relieved that Yusuke wasn’t Obaa-chan’s favourite grandson: if Masaki had made that remark, she would’ve been devastated.
Aiba sought permission to explore the township in his first hour of being there. He had always been a seeker. He had a natural thirst for life and never stopped finding something to do, something to think about or something to love.
It was Jun who found Aiba in the ditch.
*
September 30, 1989
9:07 PM
On my bed
Hey Jun!
I know I was supposed to write sooner but I kind of lost your address (sorry I knew you told me to put it in my wallet). I was sitting on it until Nino called to ask if I’d sent off the letter, since October is tomorrow (I thought I still had until September 31st!!!). He says he’s got lots to write, and because of this tag thing that we’ve promised to do, he has to wait for his turn so I’d better send this off on time.
So the point of the above paragraph is, sorry I’m writing this so late. I know I’m the starting point and all so if this reaches Sho late it’s probably going to make him really mad (because you know how he can get all stupid with deadlines and such), so I hope you will send it earlier than the day before the next month rolls over!!! I KNOW THE REST OF YOU ARE READING THIS, I AM A BAD EXAMPLE AND PLEASE SEND THIS ALONG ON TIME WHEN IT’S YOUR TURN.
Life is all right. My parents are crazy-busy at work, my brother is struggling with his high school entrance exam prep, and I am still trying to figure out all this Math. No matter, I still have the rest of the school year to catch up. Engineering Math is so difficult, oh my God. But I like my other classes. I think I’m going to do electrical engineering.
We’re training like mad at basketball; the coach hopes to get the team into the Inter-High championships. I’m not too big on that because that’ll mean my entire summer will be spent in the gym, and though we left Ikeda not promising each other anything, I really want to go back. My friends are awesome, but they’re just not you four.
Hope your mom is okay!
Aiba Masaki
*
Jun hadn’t seen a lot of young people in Ikeda. In fact, Jun hadn’t seen a lot of people in Ikeda who weren’t in tour groups and over the age of fifty. The entire population numbered less than four thousand, after all. But Jun also hadn’t been around much, so it wasn’t like he had time to mingle with the townsfolk. All he did for his first three days was chant sutras under the Ryuusouga Waterfall, make a wish at the Suha-azuki Shrine and hike up a mountain to make food offerings at an ancient altar. He’d barely left the minshuku he and his father were lodging at, what with the whole business of praying for his mother’s health.
So when Jun heard Aiba’s cries for help and followed the sounds, he was surprised to find a boy sweating profusely in his flannel shirt. His Bermuda shorts and sneakers were streaked with dirt, and when he saw Jun he yelped and waved.
Ikeda was characterised by mountains and agricultural plains, but sometimes the farmers would dig trenches to trap the wild boar that tended to terrorise their crops. Aiba had fallen into such a pit and was lucky he hadn’t broken anything.
Jun lay himself on the ground and tried to reach for the other boy, but he was tiny and couldn’t pull Aiba up by himself. He begged for Aiba to wait and fetched his father, who was still at the altar, making sure the oranges were neatly arranged. Together they rushed back to the ditch, where the older Matsumoto helped Aiba out of the trench. Aiba was nimble enough to heave himself out the last couple of inches, and started thanking the father and son while trying to explain his stupidity.
After making sure Aiba was really all right, Jun’s father started down the mountain; Jun surveyed Aiba and the earth that had caked his face.
“Sorry about your shirt,” Aiba winced, chewing his lower lip. “How much is it? I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s just dirt,” Jun answered, brushing the dirt off his T-shirt. “I’m Matsumoto Jun. What’s your name?”
“Aiba Masaki,” Aiba answered, deeply relieved, and held his hand out for a shake.
Jun took it firmly, his cheeks rounding with a toothy smile. “Why are you in Ikeda?” he asked as they made their descent.
“Well,” Aiba checked his footing as he explained, “my family is visiting my grandmother. She was born here. My grandfather was from Chiba. He died last year, and that’s when she decided to move back.”
Jun turned back to look at Aiba more closely. “Are you in high school?”
“First year. You?”
“I’m in my last year of junior high,” Jun sighed. “It sucks.”
Aiba gave a winsome laugh. “That’s what we all said.” He pauses. “If you’re in your last year, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying for your high school entrance exams?”
“It’s my dad,” Jun muttered. “My mother got sick and he became some kind of religious fanatic in search of a miracle. It’s ironic because he’s a surgeon. Anyway, we’re on some kind of pilgrimage. He says we have to be pious, so if she makes it past June we’ll be coming back here again.”
The boys talked as they trudged down the hill; Aiba found out that Jun was from Gunma, and Jun found out that Aiba had a talent for saying fairly airheaded things. Nevertheless Jun decided he liked Aiba a lot and asked Aiba to accompany him to their last stop for the day - the Zen temple at the foot of the neighbouring mountain. Aiba readily accepted - he would pray for his brother to stop being such a git - and that was how they met Nino.
*
October 9, 1989
11:00 PM
At the hospital
Dear Nino
Thank you for making Aiba send the letter. I’d been waiting and when the last week of September rolled around and my letter still hadn’t come I thought you guys hadn’t really existed and the three weeks I spent in Ikeda was just a figment of my imagination. I had to look at my planner, at all your addresses and phone numbers written in five kinds of handwriting, just to make sure you guys had actually been there. I wanted to call but I’m barely at home to use the phone, and by the time I get back from the hospital it’s too late. I don’t want to wake your families or even worse, have them think it’s some kind of emergency, so I think I’ll stick with the mail.
Mom’s fallen asleep. She’s just in here for treatment, it’s not a relapse or anything, don’t worry.
I would have written earlier if I could’ve found the time… Every day is a frantic blur. I’m the eldest so a lot of responsibilities fall upon my shoulders - ironing my brother and sister’s school clothes (it’s going to be a good one or two years before my sister is old enough to handle something like an iron; do you know how frickin’ hard it is to iron a pleated skirt?!), preparing my lunch (my siblings have a school lunch; I’m convinced that if I continue to eat bread for all my meals I’d never make it past the 1.5 m mark) and basically ensuring that my dad doesn’t die from all the chanting and shit. He’s lost a lot of weight recently.
How is your prep for high school? I’ve been doing most of my revision at the hospital. I almost flunked my mock exams though. No surprise to the teachers, they all know what’s up with my family. I want to do vocational, like Aiba, but my dad says the system’s a passing fad. He hopes I can go to a private high school and enter university. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I don’t see how I can when I have to visit my mother and take care of the house at the same time.
Sorry if it seems like I’m complaining too much. I mean, I am, but you guys are the only ones I can tell all this to. My friends here don’t seem to get it. They’ve known me too long. They just seem sympathetic all the frickin’ time, and I don’t need that. I miss your jibes. You’d have something horrid and funny to say about all this.
Peace,
Jun
*
Nino was popular, anyone could see that. He was at the temple gates, flipping his bangs and chatting up a pretty girl with a high ponytail, all the while waving to random elderly passersby, who seemed to know him as well because they waved back and exclaimed, “It’s Kazu-chan!” It was almost dinnertime and the girl asked if he wanted to join her family at a restaurant nearby before they headed back to Kanazawa. Nino declined; he knew better than to meet a girl’s parents before they’d even gone out on a date. Disappointed, she flicked her hair in his face and left.
That was when Nino caught sight of Jun and Aiba walking towards the main hall. The contrast of their heights made Nino want to stick between them to even it out, so he did.
“Hi,” he said smoothly, as he wedged himself between their two frames. “How are you two?”
Jun smiled back briefly before racing after his father, who was already making a beeline for the statue of Buddha. He left Aiba to deal with Nino.
“He’s on a pilgrimage,” Aiba tried to explain, unsure of how to react to this stranger.
“It’s okay,” Nino replied blithely. “How about you?”
“I’m visiting my grandmother for the summer…” Aiba scrutinised this boy. He seemed to possess only a vague sense of social propriety. It was slightly disturbing, if not intriguing.
“Who is your grandmother?” Nino probed.
“Well, you haven’t even told me who you are, so…”
Laughing, Nino extended his hand. “Ninomiya Kazunari. Everybody calls me Nino.”
Wondering if Nino was some teenaged stalker that murdered old people just for kicks, he took Nino’s hand warily. “Aiba Masaki. My grandmother just moved back to Ikeda in the fall. She’s-”
“Aiba Kimiko,” Nino finished for Aiba. “She’s the only Aiba in town. Well, not now, obviously, because you’re visiting, but you get my point.”
Aiba’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?” Maybe this guy was some kind of teenaged stalker.
“Everyone in Ikeda knows everyone,” Nino smirked. “Are you going in?”
Aiba looked to where Nino was pointing. In the main hall, some devotees were kneeling, fervently whispering their prayers. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask the deity to make his brother less of an idiot. Maybe you couldn’t even use the word ‘idiot’ in front of Buddha. Maybe you’ll be struck dead.
“I think I’ll wait for Jun outside,” Aiba declared.
Nino grinned. “It’s not every day boys my age show up around here. How long will you be in Ikeda?”
“Till two weeks before school starts. We’re staying about a month.”
“A month!” Nino exclaimed, but Aiba couldn’t read the emotion in his voice. “That’s awesome. I think.” Nino didn’t stop smiling. “How about your friend?”
“I don’t know,” Aiba confessed. “We just met today.” Aiba then related to Nino how he’d been stuck in the pit for an hour until Jun’s father came to rescue him, and how Jun’s mother had some terminal disease so he and his father were on a ‘prayer journey’, as Jun had put it.
“Do you think Jun-kun would be able to have a little vacation?” Nino asked, slipping into the use of Jun’s first name as if he’d known him since birth.
Aiba shrugged, throwing a glance to the main hall. Jun was still inside. “What are you planning?”
“I could take you guys to the valley near my house tomorrow. There are some caves that could use some research,” Nino mused. “You in?”
Aiba nodded. “I’m in. Definitely.” He then hesitated. “Can I ask my younger brother to come along?”
Nino pondered upon this for a moment. “How old is he?”
“Fifteen.”
“Would he want to come?”
“…No.”
“You could try,” Nino laughed. He got up, dusting his jeans. “I’ve got to run. My grandfather will kill me if I’m late for dinner again.”
“Wait, how about tomorrow? And Jun?”
Nino stopped, turning to face Aiba once more. “Ask Jun if he’s game, and if he is, the both of you - okay, and your brother, if he’s coming - wait for me outside the convenience store at eight tomorrow morning.”
Aiba frowned as Nino started jogging off. “Which convenience store?” he called.
“There’s only one!” Nino hollered back, waving goodbye. “See you tomorrow!”
*
November 1, 1989
3:41 PM
In school, at my desk
Sho-chan, one of my top choices is a boys’ school. Am I courting suicide or am I making informed decisions for my academic career?
Ninomiya Kazunari
PS. I lied to Aiba regarding the ‘lots to write part’. Sorry if that got your hopes up.
PPS. I MISS YOU, OH-CHAN
PPPS. I tried to call Jun. Seems like he’s always at the hospital or asleep.
PPPPS. Jun, you are a pathetic whiner with stupid friends. But I love you anyway. Was that horrid and funny enough for you? Stay cute always.
*
At eight that morning, Sho got out of the pickup truck, unlocking the tailboard to reveal crates of produce from his uncle’s farm. His uncle killed the engine and, grabbing a stack of the consignment, motioned for Sho to follow him through the alley.
As Sho rounded the vehicle, he saw a boy looking at him interestedly, the hint of a smile ghosting his lips. Sho returned the look with stolid indifference and continued to the back door of the store, the weight in his arms reminding him of his responsibilities. His uncle went into the store to look for the shopkeeper; Sho was left to complete the delivery.
When Sho returned to the truck to collect the squash, another boy had appeared. This one was wiry and, judging by his demeanour, had a less suspicious intent. He was also arguing with the first boy, something about how two minutes wasn’t ‘late’.
Silently, Sho begged to differ. Late was late, no matter how many fractions of a second had elapsed. But he had learnt to cope with differing standards across a depraved society.
As he made his way back to the pickup after unloading, he was surprised to see the tardy one helping his uncle carry a load of cucumbers. The boy grinned at him before squeezing past, and Sho blinked, unable to comprehend his motive. Maybe society wasn’t so depraved after all.
His next trip back to the truck made him shriek because another boy the size of a large penguin was attempting to lift a crate off the bed. “Stop, you!” Sho commanded, and he guiltily hopped off the running board. (The running board. This boy obviously hadn’t met a pickup truck before.)
“I was trying to help,” the penguin-sized boy tried to justify himself.
“Elementary school kids shouldn’t try to unload freight,” Sho chided, leaping onto the bed to retrieve the crates that were stacked closest to the cab.
The first boy, the one who had eyed Sho in the beginning, burst out laughing. “He’s going to high school next year,” he informed.
Sho was mortified, but careful not to show it. “You should be taller for your age,” he griped to the midget, though he himself hadn’t remotely experienced any signs of a growth spurt till he was in his second year of junior high.
Sho grabbed another set of crates and looked steadily at the age appropriate-looking one from head to toe, appraising his stature. “You could help,” he stated frigidly. He got a grin in return.
Making an annoyed noise with his nose, Sho entered the alley once more, only to be obstructed by the one who had been late, who gamely introduced himself as Aiba Masaki.
“Sakurai Sho,” Sho answered crisply, before pressing himself against the wall to pass by. Aiba actually turned to follow him.
There was a commotion at the back, and when Sho and Aiba reached the door the shopkeeper was trying to shake his bleary-eyed son awake.
“…so hard for you to help me move some boxes? These young men are doing such a fine job, yet my son is wasting his entire morning in bed!”
“What young men, Dad?” yawned the shopkeeper’s son.
Furious, he grabbed the teenager by his pyjama collar and turned him towards Sho and Aiba.
“Hi,” he bowed sleepily. “I’m Ohno Satoshi.” This earned him a smack on the head.
*
December 2, 1989
10:00 PM
Room. Desk.
To Satoshi.
It’s me.
Kyoto is getting colder. It’s hard to believe December is here already, isn’t it?
I’m up to my neck with editing the school newspaper. But I need my report card to look good, so I can’t slack off.
How are your studies coming along? It’s going to be our final year of high school soon. I’m nervous. I’m already starting to look at universities. I can’t decide what to major in, though. My parents are thinking Business.
Nino asked about being in a boys’ school. Let me take the chance to rant that I hate being in a boys’ school. I’ve been in one for five years and I think I am a fair judge of whether it is good for a person’s well-being or not. The attitudes of the people here are almost militant, I tell you. It is as if they have been born into this world just to compete in academics. Then again, it may be because I hate losing. This is getting complicated, on a psychological scale. Do not attempt to read too much into it.
But you’re Satoshi. You won’t.
I could use some of your flaky wisdom now, Satoshi. I am in need of advice. But that is a subject to be dealt with at a later date.
And, on that cryptic note, I shall sign off.
From Sakurai Sho.
PS. I talked to Jun. He sounds exhausted. But he is fine. His family is well.
*
Ohno was a genius.
His parents couldn’t believe it at first; their better-educated relatives had surmised that Satoshi should be checked into an institution for mental health and it freaked them out because that was tantamount to Satoshi living the rest of his life an exile. It was the early 70’s, after all. However, the psychiatrist affirmed that Ohno had indeed tested in the top five percentile and his cognitive ability was more developed than that of his peers. His spacing out and taciturnity were the results of being unable to relate to other five-year-olds.
Years later, Ohno’s parents still couldn’t believe that Ohno was a genius because he was a sloth; they normally didn’t associate good brains with an unmade bed. They tried to instill virtue in their son, drawing up schedules that consisted of homework and chores, but nothing seemed to work.
It didn’t come as a surprise to Ohno when his father shook him out of bed to make him move stock. His family had acquired the shop about ten years ago and it was their main source of income. Ohno could see that it had been a smart investment; his parents monopolised the commodities market in Ikeda because there was only one convenience store, and there were enough tourists to generate returns.
As his father dragged him out through the back of the store, Ohno bowed in greeting to Taniguchi-san, the market gardener who supplied the store with fresh produce from his farm. Taniguchi-san gave him a brief nod before lighting up his cigarette.
Ohno didn’t expect to see the two boys in the alley leading to the street, so he introduced himself (because that was good manners and Ohno had just been brought up that way) before picking up a couple of crates. His father instructed him to place them in the storeroom while he opened up the shop.
Ohno obeyed, carrying the produce into the family enterprise. As he passed, he bowed at Taniguchi-san once more.
Taniguchi-san stared at him curiously from the table where Ohno’s mother usually did the accounts. “Satoshi-kun, you’re in your second year of high school, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Ohno put down his boxes and stopped to answer the question.
Flicking his cigarette over Ohno’s father’s ashtray, Taniguchi-san mused over this knowledge. “What do you think of drugs?”
Ohno thought he’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Taniguchi-san looked extremely uncomfortable, the tips of his ears turned pink. “It just - you look so dazed all the time-”
“That doesn’t mean I’m on drugs.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Ohno gave Taniguchi-san a small smile.
Taniguchi-san took a long drag on his smoke. “Sorry, Satoshi-kun. I watched you grow up and all, you know? Shouldn’t have thought that of you.”
Ohno nodded.
Taniguchi-san held Ohno’s gaze. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make friends with my nephew,” Taniguchi-san sighed, pointing outside with his cigarette. “I can’t figure him out. He’s complicated and I heard you’re a genius.”
Ohno smiled, and said he would.
*
January 14, 1990
6:31 PM
Train to Fukui City
To Aiba-chan~
It’s so cold!!!
How was your birthday? I wanted to send you a present since I had all the time since December 3 to send this letter to you (Sho is so conscientious) but I had no idea what to get you until I met your grandmother over the weekend! She told me your parents got you a Walkman, so I bought a cassette tape and recorded me, your grandma and Nino’s grandfather singing ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. They’re great singers. There’s a singing competition coming up in Ono in the spring, they want to enter. They asked me to join them but it’s only for seniors. I have to wait 40 years to be eligible!
Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! It’s hard to believe we are in the 90’s, isn’t it? For the New Year my family closed the shop and went back to the city. My grandparents on Dad’s side still think it’s funny how they’re the ones living in the city and my parents are living in Ikeda. They make the same joke every year, about how they raised a hillbilly (my mother isn’t too happy because it means she married one). I told them it’s for the sake of the economy~
Now that school is in, I only go to Ikeda on Fridays and come back to Fukui on Sunday evening. It’s tiring! Though I have to say, it used to be a meaningless commute but after I met all of you, every time I leave Ikeda I feel like I’m leaving something behind. I never thought I would be one to say this, but I’m glad my parents work in Ikeda, and I live so near!
Nino called me during the New Year to send me his wishes. He told me he called the rest of you too. We talked for an hour! I was really happy. I called Sho as well, and Jun; they told me they received calls from you too. I’m glad! You know, I decided not to call you because I wanted our first contact of the year to be this letter. Thank you for coming up with this idea, I think it’s really special and meaningful~!
I’m excited to receive this bunch of letters again in June. Rest assured I will keep them well until we meet again, hopefully!
Satoshi
*
With the convenience store open, it meant the boys could get provisions for their trip to the valley. As Ohno’s father lifted the shutters, Nino pressed his nose against the glass to peer inside the shop.
“It looks exactly the same,” Nino breathed, caught in some kind of spell. He turned to look at Ohno’s father. “Ohno-san, do you remember me?”
The middle-aged shopkeeper squinted at the slight figure crouching outside his business. “Nope,” he decided, squatting to unlock the glass doors.
“I stayed in Ikeda for a year, when I was six,” Nino ventured. “I’m the Ninomiya’s grandchild…?”
Upon hearing the name, Ohno’s father stood up and blinked. “Are you… Wait, Kazu?”
Nino broke into a grin. “Yeah! Wow, you have no idea how happy this makes me.”
Ohno’s father beamed. “You’re so big already! What are you doing here? And where is your sister?”
“My family is visiting her in Italy,” Nino laughed. “I don’t like travelling, and they weren’t very convinced I can take care of myself, so they asked Jii-chan if I could stay with him.”
“Excellent. Have you seen Satoshi yet? I’m not sure if he remembers you…”
“He has to! We played together every other day.”
Jun and Aiba sank into a state of confusion as they listened to Nino’s conversation with the shopkeeper. “I thought you said Nino was local?” Jun questioned.
“Well, he never said he wasn’t,” Aiba conceded.
It was at that moment when Ohno came out of the alley and approached the morose Sho, who was leaning against the pickup, waiting for his uncle to finish collecting payment. Within the elder Ohno’s earshot, Ohno asked Sho if he wanted to go fishing that afternoon, much to his father’s disdain. Sho declined, but Nino overheard and said he wanted in. Ohno devastated Nino with a ‘Hello, who are you?’, and Jun asked Nino whether they were still going to the valley or not, and Aiba asked Sho to come along. Sho said he wasn’t going anywhere with anybody, at which point his uncle intervened and told Sho he had the day off so he should go out and be social.
Then it rained.
*
They ended up crowding in Ohno’s tiny, messy room, where Nino fell upon the Super Famicom like a paedophile on a child. He was, obviously, an addict; his parents knew he would starve to death should they leave him to his games for an entire month and found sense in putting him in the countryside.
Aiba then asked Nino, searchingly, if he really was local. Nino shrugged and said he was a quarter local, since his grandparents were from Ikeda. This seemed to satisfy Aiba, but Jun wanted to know where Nino really was from. Nino was being cheeky and didn’t want to say, when Ohno suddenly shot up to his feet and pointed at him.
“You moved to Tokyo!” he exclaimed, and Jun had his answer.
“No, I was from Tokyo,” Nino deadpanned, though inside he was deliriously happy because Ohno had finally remembered who he was. “My mother moved here for a year to look after her dying mother-in-law, and she brought me and my sister along.”
“Oh yeah, I remember your sister now… She had really nice teeth.”
“You never stopped being weird, did you?”
Sho then made an attempt to leave, but Jun asked him to stay and, finding Jun extremely cute with his big eyes and chubby cheeks, Sho couldn’t refuse.
“We haven’t introduced ourselves properly,” Jun called out, trying to gain control of the situation. “Let’s do this properly. I am Matsumoto Jun, in my third year of junior high, and I’m from Maebashi City, Gunma Prefecture. My mother is sick, my dad is looking for a miracle cure, so I’m here for a pilgrimage.” He bobbed his head at Sho. “You’re next.”
Sho shifted his eyes around room. “I’m Sakurai Sho. Second year of high school. I’m from Kyoto, and I’m here to help out on my uncle’s farm.” He scuffed the floor with his toe. “Nice to meet you,” he managed at last.
Nino had to be tugged away from connecting the Super Famicom to Ohno’s little TV. “I’m Ninomiya Kazunari,” Nino began, distracted. “Where’s the output cable?”
Ohno prodded Nino in the side. “Be a sport.”
Nino deadpanned. “I’m from Tokyo, in my last year of junior high, and my grandfather is babysitting me while I’m on summer vacation. There. Now where is that cable?”
“Wait, you’re my age?!” Jun cried, sounding betrayed. How could it be, when Nino was a whole head taller?
“Yeah,” Nino answer cursorily, more interested in fiddling with the game console and getting it to work.
Aiba sat cross-legged on the floor and nudged Ohno. “I’m Aiba Masaki. You’re the only one here who doesn’t know my name. You’re Ohno-kun, right?”
“Hi, Aiba-kun,” Ohno inclined his head slightly. His civility made Aiba grin.
“I’m from Chiba, in my first year at a vocational high school. My grandmother just moved back to Ikeda in the fall. This is actually her hometown.”
For some reason, Aiba’s exchange with Ohno instigated Nino to plant himself between the two, muttering something about how Oh-chan should be helping him look for the cable instead of flirting, and Ohno pointed out that Aiba wasn’t a girl. Nino ignored him.
“Actually,” Ohno started, adjusting his position on the floor so he could face Aiba better, “this isn’t my hometown. The shop is here, that’s why I’m around so much. On weekdays I live with my grandparents in Fukui City.”
Jun was paying careful attention to what everyone had to say, and it was this earnestness that caused Sho to abort his notions of escape. He wondered if there were really potential friendships forming between all five of them, then quickly dispelled the thought. He wasn’t in Ikeda to make friends.
“YES!” Nino gave a squeal of triumph as he located the cable under a pile of dirty laundry. He plunged it into the socket and expertly set up the entire system up in thirty seconds. The Super Mario Brothers cartridge was already nestled firmly in the console’s control deck.
Nino flung his hand out to Sho, giving him one of the controllers. “Mario or Luigi?”
Ohno grinned at Nino approvingly.
Seconds lapsed, Sho gaping at Nino and his unprecedented initiative. Nino grew impatient. “Luigi then,” he simpered, throwing the gadget into Sho’s palm. “The rest of you decide who’s going next when Sho-chan loses.”
“Sho-chan?” Sho squeaked, unsure if he was supposed to seethe or rejoice at the endearment, and the fact that Nino had a ridiculous amount of self-assurance.
“What makes you think Sho will lose?” Aiba interjected, and Sho whipped around to face him. What was with this first-name basis thing?
Jun put up his hand. “I’ll have my turn after Sho, if you don’t mind.”
Sho gave up.
*
The following day was mundane compared to Aiba’s first weekend in Ikeda. His new friends were all busy, even Nino, who had to visit his grandmother’s grave.
Aiba strapped on his trainers, ready to do some more exploring, this time within the confines of the land his grandmother’s family owned.
On Sunday, the five boys had played a whole afternoon of Super Mario before Jun actually beat Nino, much to the glee of everyone. Nino didn’t seem too fazed, though. The boys were beginning to think Nino was more likeable than he presented himself to be. They then bought some pre-packed sandwiches from Ohno’s father and had lunch together by the river, during which they found out Sho could crack some really funny jokes about boulders.
Aiba hiked for about an hour in good spirits, scenes from Sunday playing in his head, keeping him cheerful. He traversed the grassland, catching bugs he’d never seen before and keeping them in a glass jar. His grandmother had told him that as a young girl, she used to come out in the summer evenings to catch fireflies; he made a mental note to do the same.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Aiba cast his vision over the land and spotted an odd shape in the distance. He bounded towards it and as he got nearer, his eyes glassed over in delight because he had found the perfect secret base.
*
“YUSUKE!” Aiba hollered as he crashed into the entryway of his grandmother’s house, drenched in sweat. He hurriedly peeled off his shoes and skidded across the polished wooden floor to the room he shared with his brother. “You’ve got to come see this!”
Yusuke looked up from the comic he had been reading. “What is it?”
The brothers looked alike, had similar manners of speech and belonged to the same set of parents, but they were still markedly different. Yusuke was less excitable and had lesser regard for authority. It wasn’t too shocking that he didn’t share his elder brother’s interests.
“I found a BUS!” Aiba panted, his grin making his cheeks ache. “Well, it’s got no tyres and it’s rusty and everything, but it’ll be awesome to camp in. Remember how we used to tie our blankets to the lower bunk of our bed and pretend it’s a fort?”
Yusuke stared at Aiba. “What are you, twelve?”
Aiba’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. His mother had mentioned Yusuke was in a stage of rebellion, which Aiba had thankfully bypassed. He hadn’t understood what she meant. Till now.
*
Ohno was ringing up the purchases of an elderly lady when Aiba vaulted into the shop, a sheen of perspiration on his face. Ohno bowed, thanking the customer, who minced past the glass doors that Aiba held open.
He rushed to Ohno the moment the old lady left. “Listen,” Aiba whispered urgently, “I don’t know if you appreciate stuff like this, but do you happen to be interested in an abandoned bus that may serve very well as a secret base?”
Ohno’s eyes gleamed. “Wait here, I’m going to ask my mom to man the till.”
*
Aiba had expected Ohno’s set of keys to be for the bicycle shed, but when Ohno led him to a Datsun Cherry he had to gawk.
“Are you sure you’re allowed drive this?” Aiba thrust an accusatory finger at the sedan.
“Why not?” Ohno unlocked the car.
“Because you’re underage?” Aiba hissed, his eyes wide. “You’re a second-year, right?”
Ohno furrowed his brow, puzzled, before he realised what Aiba was talking about. “I took a year off after junior high. Don’t worry, I’m legal.”
Aiba blinked. Then he broke into a huge grin.
They drove to the village at the opposite side of the valley, where Taniguchi-san’s farm was. They parked alongside the paddy, where Sho was weeding and reading his biology textbook that was propped on a low stool. Ohno asked if Sho had some time, to which he didn’t look up from his book and replied in the negative; Taniguchi-san stepped out from the greenhouse, said something in undertones to Sho to make him frown. Moments later, Sho begrudgingly asked the other two to wait for him.
*
In the car, Aiba explained that while he knew roughly where all of them were that day, he wasn’t familiar enough with Ikeda to know how to get there. The only place he could remember how to get to was the convenience store in the town centre; that’s why he looked for Ohno first.
They headed south, spent half an hour searching for a parking lot before having to trek up a wooded incline and cross a bridge over a river. None of them really complained, though, because the weather and summer views made the experience spectacular.
It was almost noon when they reached the shrine, a semi-famous one that showcased the panorama of Ikeda and its south-side neighbour, Imajo Town. Jun was tying a wish for his mother on a bamboo frame, and his father was tying four, for each member of his family.
Upon seeing this, Aiba wrote a wish for Jun’s father, insisting that he not be left out.
They waited under a torii for Nino, whom Jun revealed was also there. Nino emerged from the cemetery minutes later, the rims of his eyes slightly red. He was genuinely surprised to see the other four, who got to meet Nino’s grandfather for the first time. The old man invited them to his house for dinner the following evening, and didn’t let Sho say no.
*
Nino picked the middle seat, and they all saw why when he started angling his elbow on Ohno’s shoulder and shouting “Look out!” at inappropriate times. Ohno didn’t seem to mind. He liked Nino enough. Jun then expressed his apprehension at whether Ohno was legal to drive; Aiba helped to address that question. Nino confiscated Sho’s biology textbook, which he had snuck into his knapsack, unbeknownst to his uncle, and taken out whenever he rode in the car. Sho tried to get it back, but Nino passed it to Aiba, who shoved it into the glove compartment and told Sho he’d return it after they saw the bus.
With Aiba’s directions, the five arrived at the grassland just before nightfall. Aiba showed off his vehicular discovery, and the boys agreed it had definite secret base potential. Sho saw it as a viable place for summer revision.
The exterior was a faded azure, and Ohno immediately decided to take it upon himself to embark on a refurbishing project. Jun suggested red paint, to make it look like those London buses. Aiba thought the blue was quite charming and was reluctant to see it go, so Nino married their ideas and proposed painting only the bottom half red. A brilliant proposal was then rendered by Sho, who said varnish would liven up the blue to bring out its original hue.
“This place needs a tetanus shot,” Nino muttered as he boarded the vehicle. There were no seats in the bus save the driver’s and in the back, thanks to the previous owner’s efforts. The steering wheel, brakes and gear shift were intact, but after years of changing seasons, the interior of the bus had suffered.
Ohno perused the peeling paint and lesions of rust. “We can plaster aluminium foil on the walls,” he said, which made Aiba request for him to lead the project.
A couple of days later, after Aiba made sure that the plot of land was indeed his grandmother’s and he could do whatever he wanted to the bus (her nephew had procured it second-hand; he was rather avant-garde for his time and wanted to make it into a home, but gave up halfway and built a brick-and-mortar instead), the five of them tied teru teru bozu to the windows and began to work.
*
The two-week business of vivifying the bus was interspersed with picnics, fireworks and fishing at the river, and by restricting their painting to days that forecasted no rain, the boys were able to fit a healthy amount of Super Mario into their schedules as well. Sho gradually opened up, ‘forgetting’ to bring a textbook when he arrived at the grassland or all their other shared appointments.
When the bus was declared habitable the boys gamely spent a night in it; they woke up covered in insect bites, and Nino found a large bug in Sho’s ear. They never tried camping again. Sho developed a phobia of beetles.
Jun’s father had returned to Gunma, after Jun had pleaded to stay till the week before summer break ended. The surgeon refused at first, but relented when he found out Jun was going to be staying with Aiba, whom he thought was a good influence; this puzzled the others greatly, because Aiba had his head in the clouds most of the time. The rest of the adults were reasonably fond of the boys and, knowing that they didn’t have many more days in Ikeda, allowed their charges to spend the rest of vacation together.
The night before Jun left they all had a sleepover at Nino’s; but not before catching ten jars of fireflies, which Aiba made them promise to let go in the morning. They returned to the house long after the sun had set, unwilling to switch on the living room lights for fear of waking up Nino’s grandfather. Guiding their steps with their flashlights, they placed the glowing captives by their futons and quietly laid their nets upon the floor.
One by one, each boy clicked his flashlight off, allowing the fireflies to illuminate the area around their feet.
Aiba hugged his knees close to his chest. His eyes became moist and he fought the urge to cry. “Are you guys coming back next summer?”
Sho shrugged placidly. “I dunno,” he said in English, making the rest erupt into fits of hushed giggles.
Jun was pensive. He looked around the circle. “I told you guys, right? We’ll come back, my dad and I. If Mom makes it, we’ll be back.” His voice cracked.
Nino inched closer to him, making a swift decision. “I’ll be here, if you’re coming.”
Jun nodded, swiping at his eyes, embarrassed.
Aiba took a deep breath. “I’ve actually thought of what we should do.” He reached for his bag and, after a bout of fumbling, drew out a piece of lined paper. “I’ve invented a game.”
“You want to come back, so you invented a game?” Sho frowned, wrinkling his nose.
“Yes. We’re going to play tag - with mail,” Aiba clarified. “Look at this,” Aiba spread the piece of paper on the floor and set four jars of fireflies around it.
Nino knelt on his futon to read the scrawl. “Is this some kind of schedule?”
“That’s right, Nino-chan,” Aiba beamed. “The reason why this needs to be a game is because we need motivation to keep in contact; so we’ve got to have fun doing it! We write in the order of how we met each other, starting with me because ‘a’ is the first kana. Deadlines are the last day of every month. We can send our letters out any time after the ones addressed to us arrive, and every time we send letters out, we also have to send out the ones we receive. Just to keep everybody in the loop, you know?”
Jun peered at the schedule. “So, say I receive a letter from you. I will then write one to Nino and put the letter you wrote to me in the envelope as well?”
“Yup. This way Nino can read both mine and yours.”
Nino was sceptical about the game helping them stay close to one another. “But since we already know who is sending letters to whom, why don’t we just mail that person whenever we want to?”
“Then it wouldn’t be tag anymore,” Sho and Ohno said together, before exchanging glances and slapping each other an amused high-five.
“How about replies?” Nino argued. “What if you want to answer the letter that was sent to you? You have to write to the next person, right?”
Aiba grinned. He had it all figured out.
“This bit of game-play is less restrictive. You can either call your sender, which wouldn’t be as fun, or write your reply in the letter that you send out, maybe in a postscript or something. You wouldn’t receive your reply until we start forwarding, though. Try to keep the replies short so we have some suspense going.” Aiba jabbed a finger in the air as he realised something. “A lot of this game hangs on suspense,” he said slowly, righting all the ideas in his head. “As you can see from the schedule, we write to each other from September to January, and then we begin the forwarding process.” He tapped the piece of paper. “See, in January I would’ve received everyone’s letters from Oh-chan, but Jun wouldn’t have read Nino’s, Oh-chan’s and Sho’s, while Nino wouldn’t have read Oh-chan and Sho’s and so on, right? So we will forward the entire bunch of letters to each other, February through June. Even though it’s the second time you’re seeing some of the letters, it’s nice to be reminded of what you wrote and what you got.”
“But by the time we begin the forwarding process, most of our lives would have been a few months out of date,” Jun challenged.
Aiba wasn’t fazed. “Then we call, or we come back in summer for a real-life update.”
“What do I do when the letters reach me?” asked Ohno, pointing to his name, written beside ‘June’.
“You keep them and hand them to the respective addressee when we come back to Ikeda,” Aiba announced with a flourish. He felt smart for luring all of them back with mail.
Sho put up a hand. Aiba called on him.
“Teacher, all this sounds very interesting, but what if I want to contact one of you and my turn hasn’t come to write a letter?”
“Call,” Aiba said simply. “There are no rules for calling.”
Nino snorted. “Then what are the letters for, if we’ve got telephones?”
Aiba slung an arm around Nino’s neck, sighing in mock sympathy. “You don’t seem to get the point of this, Nino-chan.”
“I don’t, not really.”
“Letters are tangible,” Ohno remarked. “They’re like a keepsake, a trigger to some kind of past experience.” The rest nodded.
Aiba continued, “When we get them back, we can think: ‘What had I written to so-and-so that elicited such a response?’ Telephone conversations just disappear after you hang up. Having a piece of paper in your hands, covered in someone else’s handwriting, is special.”
“The evidence of a memory,” Sho supplied, his voice soft. “I like that.”
Jun nudged Nino. “It’d be hard to forget.”
Nino conceded with a grin. “It will.”
*
The next morning, all five of them piled into Nino’s grandfather’s pickup truck (it seemed like all the farmers in Ikeda had one) to pick up the rest of Jun’s luggage. When they reached Aiba’s place, Aiba’s grandmother came to greet them, and Nino revealed he only knew who Aiba’s grandmother was because his grandfather had a colossal crush on her. There was definitely a vested interest in him allowing Nino to hang out with Aiba and not help in the fields. Aiba was slightly horrified, but calmly stated that their grandparents were both excellent Japanese citizens. Ohno wondered what that had to do with anything. Sho assured that he’d get his uncle to keep an eye on them. Jun couldn’t find a shred of sense in the entire conversation.
*
Nino left the same day Aiba did and hitched a ride with his family, much to the displeasure of Yusuke. Yusuke hadn’t really gotten over the absence of a beach in Ikeda and spent the entire month moping indoors. Aiba had tried inviting him to hang out with his friends but Yusuke stubbornly kept his head buried in Shonen Jump, ignoring his brother’s goodwill.
Ohno promised to take care of the bus, and when it was Sho’s turn to go he was upset that he hadn’t revised more biology in it. Sho promised to send Ohno’s letter on time and forward him the mail. Ohno asked him if he’d be back next summer. Sho confessed that he didn’t know. Ohno gave him a hug, and Sho felt like crying as he entered his uncle’s pickup, waving to Ohno until he was just a dot on the horizon.
Part two
Rating: PG
Pairing: None. Gen.
Summary: Five boys meet each other in a rural town one summer, and the world suddenly is in order. Set in the early ‘90s, before mobile communications were a popular means of keeping in touch. Inspired by ZONE’s Secret Base.
Prompt: We’re all about cliques, yo
Warnings: ~14000 words.
Notes: Many thanks to The Flower for beta-ing at such short notice. You are much loved.
Teru teru bozu
Kana
Otoshidama
Ikeda in summer
Secret Base video and lyrics
In the fall, Aiba’s grandmother moved back to Ikeda, her sparsely-populated valley hometown in rural Fukui Prefecture. The decision came swiftly after her husband’s funeral. No one questioned it because Aiba’s grandmother was quite the matriarch.
When the following summer arrived, Aiba’s father decided they should visit because she was his mother and he was her only son. The family packed up and made their way to Ikeda, spending five hours on trains and another in a rental car.
Aiba’s grandmother had returned to her family home, in a village between two mountains. Aiba thought the large, sprawling traditional residence was cool. His brother thought the whole arrangement really sucked and whined about how his friends were all going to the beach for summer so why couldn’t they have gone too; Aiba’s mother boxed his ears because Obaa-chan was just old, not deaf. Aiba’s mother was relieved that Yusuke wasn’t Obaa-chan’s favourite grandson: if Masaki had made that remark, she would’ve been devastated.
Aiba sought permission to explore the township in his first hour of being there. He had always been a seeker. He had a natural thirst for life and never stopped finding something to do, something to think about or something to love.
It was Jun who found Aiba in the ditch.
*
September 30, 1989
9:07 PM
On my bed
Hey Jun!
I know I was supposed to write sooner but I kind of lost your address (sorry I knew you told me to put it in my wallet). I was sitting on it until Nino called to ask if I’d sent off the letter, since October is tomorrow (I thought I still had until September 31st!!!). He says he’s got lots to write, and because of this tag thing that we’ve promised to do, he has to wait for his turn so I’d better send this off on time.
So the point of the above paragraph is, sorry I’m writing this so late. I know I’m the starting point and all so if this reaches Sho late it’s probably going to make him really mad (because you know how he can get all stupid with deadlines and such), so I hope you will send it earlier than the day before the next month rolls over!!! I KNOW THE REST OF YOU ARE READING THIS, I AM A BAD EXAMPLE AND PLEASE SEND THIS ALONG ON TIME WHEN IT’S YOUR TURN.
Life is all right. My parents are crazy-busy at work, my brother is struggling with his high school entrance exam prep, and I am still trying to figure out all this Math. No matter, I still have the rest of the school year to catch up. Engineering Math is so difficult, oh my God. But I like my other classes. I think I’m going to do electrical engineering.
We’re training like mad at basketball; the coach hopes to get the team into the Inter-High championships. I’m not too big on that because that’ll mean my entire summer will be spent in the gym, and though we left Ikeda not promising each other anything, I really want to go back. My friends are awesome, but they’re just not you four.
Hope your mom is okay!
Aiba Masaki
*
Jun hadn’t seen a lot of young people in Ikeda. In fact, Jun hadn’t seen a lot of people in Ikeda who weren’t in tour groups and over the age of fifty. The entire population numbered less than four thousand, after all. But Jun also hadn’t been around much, so it wasn’t like he had time to mingle with the townsfolk. All he did for his first three days was chant sutras under the Ryuusouga Waterfall, make a wish at the Suha-azuki Shrine and hike up a mountain to make food offerings at an ancient altar. He’d barely left the minshuku he and his father were lodging at, what with the whole business of praying for his mother’s health.
So when Jun heard Aiba’s cries for help and followed the sounds, he was surprised to find a boy sweating profusely in his flannel shirt. His Bermuda shorts and sneakers were streaked with dirt, and when he saw Jun he yelped and waved.
Ikeda was characterised by mountains and agricultural plains, but sometimes the farmers would dig trenches to trap the wild boar that tended to terrorise their crops. Aiba had fallen into such a pit and was lucky he hadn’t broken anything.
Jun lay himself on the ground and tried to reach for the other boy, but he was tiny and couldn’t pull Aiba up by himself. He begged for Aiba to wait and fetched his father, who was still at the altar, making sure the oranges were neatly arranged. Together they rushed back to the ditch, where the older Matsumoto helped Aiba out of the trench. Aiba was nimble enough to heave himself out the last couple of inches, and started thanking the father and son while trying to explain his stupidity.
After making sure Aiba was really all right, Jun’s father started down the mountain; Jun surveyed Aiba and the earth that had caked his face.
“Sorry about your shirt,” Aiba winced, chewing his lower lip. “How much is it? I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s just dirt,” Jun answered, brushing the dirt off his T-shirt. “I’m Matsumoto Jun. What’s your name?”
“Aiba Masaki,” Aiba answered, deeply relieved, and held his hand out for a shake.
Jun took it firmly, his cheeks rounding with a toothy smile. “Why are you in Ikeda?” he asked as they made their descent.
“Well,” Aiba checked his footing as he explained, “my family is visiting my grandmother. She was born here. My grandfather was from Chiba. He died last year, and that’s when she decided to move back.”
Jun turned back to look at Aiba more closely. “Are you in high school?”
“First year. You?”
“I’m in my last year of junior high,” Jun sighed. “It sucks.”
Aiba gave a winsome laugh. “That’s what we all said.” He pauses. “If you’re in your last year, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying for your high school entrance exams?”
“It’s my dad,” Jun muttered. “My mother got sick and he became some kind of religious fanatic in search of a miracle. It’s ironic because he’s a surgeon. Anyway, we’re on some kind of pilgrimage. He says we have to be pious, so if she makes it past June we’ll be coming back here again.”
The boys talked as they trudged down the hill; Aiba found out that Jun was from Gunma, and Jun found out that Aiba had a talent for saying fairly airheaded things. Nevertheless Jun decided he liked Aiba a lot and asked Aiba to accompany him to their last stop for the day - the Zen temple at the foot of the neighbouring mountain. Aiba readily accepted - he would pray for his brother to stop being such a git - and that was how they met Nino.
*
October 9, 1989
11:00 PM
At the hospital
Dear Nino
Thank you for making Aiba send the letter. I’d been waiting and when the last week of September rolled around and my letter still hadn’t come I thought you guys hadn’t really existed and the three weeks I spent in Ikeda was just a figment of my imagination. I had to look at my planner, at all your addresses and phone numbers written in five kinds of handwriting, just to make sure you guys had actually been there. I wanted to call but I’m barely at home to use the phone, and by the time I get back from the hospital it’s too late. I don’t want to wake your families or even worse, have them think it’s some kind of emergency, so I think I’ll stick with the mail.
Mom’s fallen asleep. She’s just in here for treatment, it’s not a relapse or anything, don’t worry.
I would have written earlier if I could’ve found the time… Every day is a frantic blur. I’m the eldest so a lot of responsibilities fall upon my shoulders - ironing my brother and sister’s school clothes (it’s going to be a good one or two years before my sister is old enough to handle something like an iron; do you know how frickin’ hard it is to iron a pleated skirt?!), preparing my lunch (my siblings have a school lunch; I’m convinced that if I continue to eat bread for all my meals I’d never make it past the 1.5 m mark) and basically ensuring that my dad doesn’t die from all the chanting and shit. He’s lost a lot of weight recently.
How is your prep for high school? I’ve been doing most of my revision at the hospital. I almost flunked my mock exams though. No surprise to the teachers, they all know what’s up with my family. I want to do vocational, like Aiba, but my dad says the system’s a passing fad. He hopes I can go to a private high school and enter university. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I don’t see how I can when I have to visit my mother and take care of the house at the same time.
Sorry if it seems like I’m complaining too much. I mean, I am, but you guys are the only ones I can tell all this to. My friends here don’t seem to get it. They’ve known me too long. They just seem sympathetic all the frickin’ time, and I don’t need that. I miss your jibes. You’d have something horrid and funny to say about all this.
Peace,
Jun
*
Nino was popular, anyone could see that. He was at the temple gates, flipping his bangs and chatting up a pretty girl with a high ponytail, all the while waving to random elderly passersby, who seemed to know him as well because they waved back and exclaimed, “It’s Kazu-chan!” It was almost dinnertime and the girl asked if he wanted to join her family at a restaurant nearby before they headed back to Kanazawa. Nino declined; he knew better than to meet a girl’s parents before they’d even gone out on a date. Disappointed, she flicked her hair in his face and left.
That was when Nino caught sight of Jun and Aiba walking towards the main hall. The contrast of their heights made Nino want to stick between them to even it out, so he did.
“Hi,” he said smoothly, as he wedged himself between their two frames. “How are you two?”
Jun smiled back briefly before racing after his father, who was already making a beeline for the statue of Buddha. He left Aiba to deal with Nino.
“He’s on a pilgrimage,” Aiba tried to explain, unsure of how to react to this stranger.
“It’s okay,” Nino replied blithely. “How about you?”
“I’m visiting my grandmother for the summer…” Aiba scrutinised this boy. He seemed to possess only a vague sense of social propriety. It was slightly disturbing, if not intriguing.
“Who is your grandmother?” Nino probed.
“Well, you haven’t even told me who you are, so…”
Laughing, Nino extended his hand. “Ninomiya Kazunari. Everybody calls me Nino.”
Wondering if Nino was some teenaged stalker that murdered old people just for kicks, he took Nino’s hand warily. “Aiba Masaki. My grandmother just moved back to Ikeda in the fall. She’s-”
“Aiba Kimiko,” Nino finished for Aiba. “She’s the only Aiba in town. Well, not now, obviously, because you’re visiting, but you get my point.”
Aiba’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?” Maybe this guy was some kind of teenaged stalker.
“Everyone in Ikeda knows everyone,” Nino smirked. “Are you going in?”
Aiba looked to where Nino was pointing. In the main hall, some devotees were kneeling, fervently whispering their prayers. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask the deity to make his brother less of an idiot. Maybe you couldn’t even use the word ‘idiot’ in front of Buddha. Maybe you’ll be struck dead.
“I think I’ll wait for Jun outside,” Aiba declared.
Nino grinned. “It’s not every day boys my age show up around here. How long will you be in Ikeda?”
“Till two weeks before school starts. We’re staying about a month.”
“A month!” Nino exclaimed, but Aiba couldn’t read the emotion in his voice. “That’s awesome. I think.” Nino didn’t stop smiling. “How about your friend?”
“I don’t know,” Aiba confessed. “We just met today.” Aiba then related to Nino how he’d been stuck in the pit for an hour until Jun’s father came to rescue him, and how Jun’s mother had some terminal disease so he and his father were on a ‘prayer journey’, as Jun had put it.
“Do you think Jun-kun would be able to have a little vacation?” Nino asked, slipping into the use of Jun’s first name as if he’d known him since birth.
Aiba shrugged, throwing a glance to the main hall. Jun was still inside. “What are you planning?”
“I could take you guys to the valley near my house tomorrow. There are some caves that could use some research,” Nino mused. “You in?”
Aiba nodded. “I’m in. Definitely.” He then hesitated. “Can I ask my younger brother to come along?”
Nino pondered upon this for a moment. “How old is he?”
“Fifteen.”
“Would he want to come?”
“…No.”
“You could try,” Nino laughed. He got up, dusting his jeans. “I’ve got to run. My grandfather will kill me if I’m late for dinner again.”
“Wait, how about tomorrow? And Jun?”
Nino stopped, turning to face Aiba once more. “Ask Jun if he’s game, and if he is, the both of you - okay, and your brother, if he’s coming - wait for me outside the convenience store at eight tomorrow morning.”
Aiba frowned as Nino started jogging off. “Which convenience store?” he called.
“There’s only one!” Nino hollered back, waving goodbye. “See you tomorrow!”
*
November 1, 1989
3:41 PM
In school, at my desk
Sho-chan, one of my top choices is a boys’ school. Am I courting suicide or am I making informed decisions for my academic career?
Ninomiya Kazunari
PS. I lied to Aiba regarding the ‘lots to write part’. Sorry if that got your hopes up.
PPS. I MISS YOU, OH-CHAN
PPPS. I tried to call Jun. Seems like he’s always at the hospital or asleep.
PPPPS. Jun, you are a pathetic whiner with stupid friends. But I love you anyway. Was that horrid and funny enough for you? Stay cute always.
*
At eight that morning, Sho got out of the pickup truck, unlocking the tailboard to reveal crates of produce from his uncle’s farm. His uncle killed the engine and, grabbing a stack of the consignment, motioned for Sho to follow him through the alley.
As Sho rounded the vehicle, he saw a boy looking at him interestedly, the hint of a smile ghosting his lips. Sho returned the look with stolid indifference and continued to the back door of the store, the weight in his arms reminding him of his responsibilities. His uncle went into the store to look for the shopkeeper; Sho was left to complete the delivery.
When Sho returned to the truck to collect the squash, another boy had appeared. This one was wiry and, judging by his demeanour, had a less suspicious intent. He was also arguing with the first boy, something about how two minutes wasn’t ‘late’.
Silently, Sho begged to differ. Late was late, no matter how many fractions of a second had elapsed. But he had learnt to cope with differing standards across a depraved society.
As he made his way back to the pickup after unloading, he was surprised to see the tardy one helping his uncle carry a load of cucumbers. The boy grinned at him before squeezing past, and Sho blinked, unable to comprehend his motive. Maybe society wasn’t so depraved after all.
His next trip back to the truck made him shriek because another boy the size of a large penguin was attempting to lift a crate off the bed. “Stop, you!” Sho commanded, and he guiltily hopped off the running board. (The running board. This boy obviously hadn’t met a pickup truck before.)
“I was trying to help,” the penguin-sized boy tried to justify himself.
“Elementary school kids shouldn’t try to unload freight,” Sho chided, leaping onto the bed to retrieve the crates that were stacked closest to the cab.
The first boy, the one who had eyed Sho in the beginning, burst out laughing. “He’s going to high school next year,” he informed.
Sho was mortified, but careful not to show it. “You should be taller for your age,” he griped to the midget, though he himself hadn’t remotely experienced any signs of a growth spurt till he was in his second year of junior high.
Sho grabbed another set of crates and looked steadily at the age appropriate-looking one from head to toe, appraising his stature. “You could help,” he stated frigidly. He got a grin in return.
Making an annoyed noise with his nose, Sho entered the alley once more, only to be obstructed by the one who had been late, who gamely introduced himself as Aiba Masaki.
“Sakurai Sho,” Sho answered crisply, before pressing himself against the wall to pass by. Aiba actually turned to follow him.
There was a commotion at the back, and when Sho and Aiba reached the door the shopkeeper was trying to shake his bleary-eyed son awake.
“…so hard for you to help me move some boxes? These young men are doing such a fine job, yet my son is wasting his entire morning in bed!”
“What young men, Dad?” yawned the shopkeeper’s son.
Furious, he grabbed the teenager by his pyjama collar and turned him towards Sho and Aiba.
“Hi,” he bowed sleepily. “I’m Ohno Satoshi.” This earned him a smack on the head.
*
December 2, 1989
10:00 PM
Room. Desk.
To Satoshi.
It’s me.
Kyoto is getting colder. It’s hard to believe December is here already, isn’t it?
I’m up to my neck with editing the school newspaper. But I need my report card to look good, so I can’t slack off.
How are your studies coming along? It’s going to be our final year of high school soon. I’m nervous. I’m already starting to look at universities. I can’t decide what to major in, though. My parents are thinking Business.
Nino asked about being in a boys’ school. Let me take the chance to rant that I hate being in a boys’ school. I’ve been in one for five years and I think I am a fair judge of whether it is good for a person’s well-being or not. The attitudes of the people here are almost militant, I tell you. It is as if they have been born into this world just to compete in academics. Then again, it may be because I hate losing. This is getting complicated, on a psychological scale. Do not attempt to read too much into it.
But you’re Satoshi. You won’t.
I could use some of your flaky wisdom now, Satoshi. I am in need of advice. But that is a subject to be dealt with at a later date.
And, on that cryptic note, I shall sign off.
From Sakurai Sho.
PS. I talked to Jun. He sounds exhausted. But he is fine. His family is well.
*
Ohno was a genius.
His parents couldn’t believe it at first; their better-educated relatives had surmised that Satoshi should be checked into an institution for mental health and it freaked them out because that was tantamount to Satoshi living the rest of his life an exile. It was the early 70’s, after all. However, the psychiatrist affirmed that Ohno had indeed tested in the top five percentile and his cognitive ability was more developed than that of his peers. His spacing out and taciturnity were the results of being unable to relate to other five-year-olds.
Years later, Ohno’s parents still couldn’t believe that Ohno was a genius because he was a sloth; they normally didn’t associate good brains with an unmade bed. They tried to instill virtue in their son, drawing up schedules that consisted of homework and chores, but nothing seemed to work.
It didn’t come as a surprise to Ohno when his father shook him out of bed to make him move stock. His family had acquired the shop about ten years ago and it was their main source of income. Ohno could see that it had been a smart investment; his parents monopolised the commodities market in Ikeda because there was only one convenience store, and there were enough tourists to generate returns.
As his father dragged him out through the back of the store, Ohno bowed in greeting to Taniguchi-san, the market gardener who supplied the store with fresh produce from his farm. Taniguchi-san gave him a brief nod before lighting up his cigarette.
Ohno didn’t expect to see the two boys in the alley leading to the street, so he introduced himself (because that was good manners and Ohno had just been brought up that way) before picking up a couple of crates. His father instructed him to place them in the storeroom while he opened up the shop.
Ohno obeyed, carrying the produce into the family enterprise. As he passed, he bowed at Taniguchi-san once more.
Taniguchi-san stared at him curiously from the table where Ohno’s mother usually did the accounts. “Satoshi-kun, you’re in your second year of high school, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Ohno put down his boxes and stopped to answer the question.
Flicking his cigarette over Ohno’s father’s ashtray, Taniguchi-san mused over this knowledge. “What do you think of drugs?”
Ohno thought he’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Taniguchi-san looked extremely uncomfortable, the tips of his ears turned pink. “It just - you look so dazed all the time-”
“That doesn’t mean I’m on drugs.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Ohno gave Taniguchi-san a small smile.
Taniguchi-san took a long drag on his smoke. “Sorry, Satoshi-kun. I watched you grow up and all, you know? Shouldn’t have thought that of you.”
Ohno nodded.
Taniguchi-san held Ohno’s gaze. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make friends with my nephew,” Taniguchi-san sighed, pointing outside with his cigarette. “I can’t figure him out. He’s complicated and I heard you’re a genius.”
Ohno smiled, and said he would.
*
January 14, 1990
6:31 PM
Train to Fukui City
To Aiba-chan~
It’s so cold!!!
How was your birthday? I wanted to send you a present since I had all the time since December 3 to send this letter to you (Sho is so conscientious) but I had no idea what to get you until I met your grandmother over the weekend! She told me your parents got you a Walkman, so I bought a cassette tape and recorded me, your grandma and Nino’s grandfather singing ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. They’re great singers. There’s a singing competition coming up in Ono in the spring, they want to enter. They asked me to join them but it’s only for seniors. I have to wait 40 years to be eligible!
Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! It’s hard to believe we are in the 90’s, isn’t it? For the New Year my family closed the shop and went back to the city. My grandparents on Dad’s side still think it’s funny how they’re the ones living in the city and my parents are living in Ikeda. They make the same joke every year, about how they raised a hillbilly (my mother isn’t too happy because it means she married one). I told them it’s for the sake of the economy~
Now that school is in, I only go to Ikeda on Fridays and come back to Fukui on Sunday evening. It’s tiring! Though I have to say, it used to be a meaningless commute but after I met all of you, every time I leave Ikeda I feel like I’m leaving something behind. I never thought I would be one to say this, but I’m glad my parents work in Ikeda, and I live so near!
Nino called me during the New Year to send me his wishes. He told me he called the rest of you too. We talked for an hour! I was really happy. I called Sho as well, and Jun; they told me they received calls from you too. I’m glad! You know, I decided not to call you because I wanted our first contact of the year to be this letter. Thank you for coming up with this idea, I think it’s really special and meaningful~!
I’m excited to receive this bunch of letters again in June. Rest assured I will keep them well until we meet again, hopefully!
Satoshi
*
With the convenience store open, it meant the boys could get provisions for their trip to the valley. As Ohno’s father lifted the shutters, Nino pressed his nose against the glass to peer inside the shop.
“It looks exactly the same,” Nino breathed, caught in some kind of spell. He turned to look at Ohno’s father. “Ohno-san, do you remember me?”
The middle-aged shopkeeper squinted at the slight figure crouching outside his business. “Nope,” he decided, squatting to unlock the glass doors.
“I stayed in Ikeda for a year, when I was six,” Nino ventured. “I’m the Ninomiya’s grandchild…?”
Upon hearing the name, Ohno’s father stood up and blinked. “Are you… Wait, Kazu?”
Nino broke into a grin. “Yeah! Wow, you have no idea how happy this makes me.”
Ohno’s father beamed. “You’re so big already! What are you doing here? And where is your sister?”
“My family is visiting her in Italy,” Nino laughed. “I don’t like travelling, and they weren’t very convinced I can take care of myself, so they asked Jii-chan if I could stay with him.”
“Excellent. Have you seen Satoshi yet? I’m not sure if he remembers you…”
“He has to! We played together every other day.”
Jun and Aiba sank into a state of confusion as they listened to Nino’s conversation with the shopkeeper. “I thought you said Nino was local?” Jun questioned.
“Well, he never said he wasn’t,” Aiba conceded.
It was at that moment when Ohno came out of the alley and approached the morose Sho, who was leaning against the pickup, waiting for his uncle to finish collecting payment. Within the elder Ohno’s earshot, Ohno asked Sho if he wanted to go fishing that afternoon, much to his father’s disdain. Sho declined, but Nino overheard and said he wanted in. Ohno devastated Nino with a ‘Hello, who are you?’, and Jun asked Nino whether they were still going to the valley or not, and Aiba asked Sho to come along. Sho said he wasn’t going anywhere with anybody, at which point his uncle intervened and told Sho he had the day off so he should go out and be social.
Then it rained.
*
They ended up crowding in Ohno’s tiny, messy room, where Nino fell upon the Super Famicom like a paedophile on a child. He was, obviously, an addict; his parents knew he would starve to death should they leave him to his games for an entire month and found sense in putting him in the countryside.
Aiba then asked Nino, searchingly, if he really was local. Nino shrugged and said he was a quarter local, since his grandparents were from Ikeda. This seemed to satisfy Aiba, but Jun wanted to know where Nino really was from. Nino was being cheeky and didn’t want to say, when Ohno suddenly shot up to his feet and pointed at him.
“You moved to Tokyo!” he exclaimed, and Jun had his answer.
“No, I was from Tokyo,” Nino deadpanned, though inside he was deliriously happy because Ohno had finally remembered who he was. “My mother moved here for a year to look after her dying mother-in-law, and she brought me and my sister along.”
“Oh yeah, I remember your sister now… She had really nice teeth.”
“You never stopped being weird, did you?”
Sho then made an attempt to leave, but Jun asked him to stay and, finding Jun extremely cute with his big eyes and chubby cheeks, Sho couldn’t refuse.
“We haven’t introduced ourselves properly,” Jun called out, trying to gain control of the situation. “Let’s do this properly. I am Matsumoto Jun, in my third year of junior high, and I’m from Maebashi City, Gunma Prefecture. My mother is sick, my dad is looking for a miracle cure, so I’m here for a pilgrimage.” He bobbed his head at Sho. “You’re next.”
Sho shifted his eyes around room. “I’m Sakurai Sho. Second year of high school. I’m from Kyoto, and I’m here to help out on my uncle’s farm.” He scuffed the floor with his toe. “Nice to meet you,” he managed at last.
Nino had to be tugged away from connecting the Super Famicom to Ohno’s little TV. “I’m Ninomiya Kazunari,” Nino began, distracted. “Where’s the output cable?”
Ohno prodded Nino in the side. “Be a sport.”
Nino deadpanned. “I’m from Tokyo, in my last year of junior high, and my grandfather is babysitting me while I’m on summer vacation. There. Now where is that cable?”
“Wait, you’re my age?!” Jun cried, sounding betrayed. How could it be, when Nino was a whole head taller?
“Yeah,” Nino answer cursorily, more interested in fiddling with the game console and getting it to work.
Aiba sat cross-legged on the floor and nudged Ohno. “I’m Aiba Masaki. You’re the only one here who doesn’t know my name. You’re Ohno-kun, right?”
“Hi, Aiba-kun,” Ohno inclined his head slightly. His civility made Aiba grin.
“I’m from Chiba, in my first year at a vocational high school. My grandmother just moved back to Ikeda in the fall. This is actually her hometown.”
For some reason, Aiba’s exchange with Ohno instigated Nino to plant himself between the two, muttering something about how Oh-chan should be helping him look for the cable instead of flirting, and Ohno pointed out that Aiba wasn’t a girl. Nino ignored him.
“Actually,” Ohno started, adjusting his position on the floor so he could face Aiba better, “this isn’t my hometown. The shop is here, that’s why I’m around so much. On weekdays I live with my grandparents in Fukui City.”
Jun was paying careful attention to what everyone had to say, and it was this earnestness that caused Sho to abort his notions of escape. He wondered if there were really potential friendships forming between all five of them, then quickly dispelled the thought. He wasn’t in Ikeda to make friends.
“YES!” Nino gave a squeal of triumph as he located the cable under a pile of dirty laundry. He plunged it into the socket and expertly set up the entire system up in thirty seconds. The Super Mario Brothers cartridge was already nestled firmly in the console’s control deck.
Nino flung his hand out to Sho, giving him one of the controllers. “Mario or Luigi?”
Ohno grinned at Nino approvingly.
Seconds lapsed, Sho gaping at Nino and his unprecedented initiative. Nino grew impatient. “Luigi then,” he simpered, throwing the gadget into Sho’s palm. “The rest of you decide who’s going next when Sho-chan loses.”
“Sho-chan?” Sho squeaked, unsure if he was supposed to seethe or rejoice at the endearment, and the fact that Nino had a ridiculous amount of self-assurance.
“What makes you think Sho will lose?” Aiba interjected, and Sho whipped around to face him. What was with this first-name basis thing?
Jun put up his hand. “I’ll have my turn after Sho, if you don’t mind.”
Sho gave up.
*
The following day was mundane compared to Aiba’s first weekend in Ikeda. His new friends were all busy, even Nino, who had to visit his grandmother’s grave.
Aiba strapped on his trainers, ready to do some more exploring, this time within the confines of the land his grandmother’s family owned.
On Sunday, the five boys had played a whole afternoon of Super Mario before Jun actually beat Nino, much to the glee of everyone. Nino didn’t seem too fazed, though. The boys were beginning to think Nino was more likeable than he presented himself to be. They then bought some pre-packed sandwiches from Ohno’s father and had lunch together by the river, during which they found out Sho could crack some really funny jokes about boulders.
Aiba hiked for about an hour in good spirits, scenes from Sunday playing in his head, keeping him cheerful. He traversed the grassland, catching bugs he’d never seen before and keeping them in a glass jar. His grandmother had told him that as a young girl, she used to come out in the summer evenings to catch fireflies; he made a mental note to do the same.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Aiba cast his vision over the land and spotted an odd shape in the distance. He bounded towards it and as he got nearer, his eyes glassed over in delight because he had found the perfect secret base.
*
“YUSUKE!” Aiba hollered as he crashed into the entryway of his grandmother’s house, drenched in sweat. He hurriedly peeled off his shoes and skidded across the polished wooden floor to the room he shared with his brother. “You’ve got to come see this!”
Yusuke looked up from the comic he had been reading. “What is it?”
The brothers looked alike, had similar manners of speech and belonged to the same set of parents, but they were still markedly different. Yusuke was less excitable and had lesser regard for authority. It wasn’t too shocking that he didn’t share his elder brother’s interests.
“I found a BUS!” Aiba panted, his grin making his cheeks ache. “Well, it’s got no tyres and it’s rusty and everything, but it’ll be awesome to camp in. Remember how we used to tie our blankets to the lower bunk of our bed and pretend it’s a fort?”
Yusuke stared at Aiba. “What are you, twelve?”
Aiba’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. His mother had mentioned Yusuke was in a stage of rebellion, which Aiba had thankfully bypassed. He hadn’t understood what she meant. Till now.
*
Ohno was ringing up the purchases of an elderly lady when Aiba vaulted into the shop, a sheen of perspiration on his face. Ohno bowed, thanking the customer, who minced past the glass doors that Aiba held open.
He rushed to Ohno the moment the old lady left. “Listen,” Aiba whispered urgently, “I don’t know if you appreciate stuff like this, but do you happen to be interested in an abandoned bus that may serve very well as a secret base?”
Ohno’s eyes gleamed. “Wait here, I’m going to ask my mom to man the till.”
*
Aiba had expected Ohno’s set of keys to be for the bicycle shed, but when Ohno led him to a Datsun Cherry he had to gawk.
“Are you sure you’re allowed drive this?” Aiba thrust an accusatory finger at the sedan.
“Why not?” Ohno unlocked the car.
“Because you’re underage?” Aiba hissed, his eyes wide. “You’re a second-year, right?”
Ohno furrowed his brow, puzzled, before he realised what Aiba was talking about. “I took a year off after junior high. Don’t worry, I’m legal.”
Aiba blinked. Then he broke into a huge grin.
They drove to the village at the opposite side of the valley, where Taniguchi-san’s farm was. They parked alongside the paddy, where Sho was weeding and reading his biology textbook that was propped on a low stool. Ohno asked if Sho had some time, to which he didn’t look up from his book and replied in the negative; Taniguchi-san stepped out from the greenhouse, said something in undertones to Sho to make him frown. Moments later, Sho begrudgingly asked the other two to wait for him.
*
In the car, Aiba explained that while he knew roughly where all of them were that day, he wasn’t familiar enough with Ikeda to know how to get there. The only place he could remember how to get to was the convenience store in the town centre; that’s why he looked for Ohno first.
They headed south, spent half an hour searching for a parking lot before having to trek up a wooded incline and cross a bridge over a river. None of them really complained, though, because the weather and summer views made the experience spectacular.
It was almost noon when they reached the shrine, a semi-famous one that showcased the panorama of Ikeda and its south-side neighbour, Imajo Town. Jun was tying a wish for his mother on a bamboo frame, and his father was tying four, for each member of his family.
Upon seeing this, Aiba wrote a wish for Jun’s father, insisting that he not be left out.
They waited under a torii for Nino, whom Jun revealed was also there. Nino emerged from the cemetery minutes later, the rims of his eyes slightly red. He was genuinely surprised to see the other four, who got to meet Nino’s grandfather for the first time. The old man invited them to his house for dinner the following evening, and didn’t let Sho say no.
*
Nino picked the middle seat, and they all saw why when he started angling his elbow on Ohno’s shoulder and shouting “Look out!” at inappropriate times. Ohno didn’t seem to mind. He liked Nino enough. Jun then expressed his apprehension at whether Ohno was legal to drive; Aiba helped to address that question. Nino confiscated Sho’s biology textbook, which he had snuck into his knapsack, unbeknownst to his uncle, and taken out whenever he rode in the car. Sho tried to get it back, but Nino passed it to Aiba, who shoved it into the glove compartment and told Sho he’d return it after they saw the bus.
With Aiba’s directions, the five arrived at the grassland just before nightfall. Aiba showed off his vehicular discovery, and the boys agreed it had definite secret base potential. Sho saw it as a viable place for summer revision.
The exterior was a faded azure, and Ohno immediately decided to take it upon himself to embark on a refurbishing project. Jun suggested red paint, to make it look like those London buses. Aiba thought the blue was quite charming and was reluctant to see it go, so Nino married their ideas and proposed painting only the bottom half red. A brilliant proposal was then rendered by Sho, who said varnish would liven up the blue to bring out its original hue.
“This place needs a tetanus shot,” Nino muttered as he boarded the vehicle. There were no seats in the bus save the driver’s and in the back, thanks to the previous owner’s efforts. The steering wheel, brakes and gear shift were intact, but after years of changing seasons, the interior of the bus had suffered.
Ohno perused the peeling paint and lesions of rust. “We can plaster aluminium foil on the walls,” he said, which made Aiba request for him to lead the project.
A couple of days later, after Aiba made sure that the plot of land was indeed his grandmother’s and he could do whatever he wanted to the bus (her nephew had procured it second-hand; he was rather avant-garde for his time and wanted to make it into a home, but gave up halfway and built a brick-and-mortar instead), the five of them tied teru teru bozu to the windows and began to work.
*
The two-week business of vivifying the bus was interspersed with picnics, fireworks and fishing at the river, and by restricting their painting to days that forecasted no rain, the boys were able to fit a healthy amount of Super Mario into their schedules as well. Sho gradually opened up, ‘forgetting’ to bring a textbook when he arrived at the grassland or all their other shared appointments.
When the bus was declared habitable the boys gamely spent a night in it; they woke up covered in insect bites, and Nino found a large bug in Sho’s ear. They never tried camping again. Sho developed a phobia of beetles.
Jun’s father had returned to Gunma, after Jun had pleaded to stay till the week before summer break ended. The surgeon refused at first, but relented when he found out Jun was going to be staying with Aiba, whom he thought was a good influence; this puzzled the others greatly, because Aiba had his head in the clouds most of the time. The rest of the adults were reasonably fond of the boys and, knowing that they didn’t have many more days in Ikeda, allowed their charges to spend the rest of vacation together.
The night before Jun left they all had a sleepover at Nino’s; but not before catching ten jars of fireflies, which Aiba made them promise to let go in the morning. They returned to the house long after the sun had set, unwilling to switch on the living room lights for fear of waking up Nino’s grandfather. Guiding their steps with their flashlights, they placed the glowing captives by their futons and quietly laid their nets upon the floor.
One by one, each boy clicked his flashlight off, allowing the fireflies to illuminate the area around their feet.
Aiba hugged his knees close to his chest. His eyes became moist and he fought the urge to cry. “Are you guys coming back next summer?”
Sho shrugged placidly. “I dunno,” he said in English, making the rest erupt into fits of hushed giggles.
Jun was pensive. He looked around the circle. “I told you guys, right? We’ll come back, my dad and I. If Mom makes it, we’ll be back.” His voice cracked.
Nino inched closer to him, making a swift decision. “I’ll be here, if you’re coming.”
Jun nodded, swiping at his eyes, embarrassed.
Aiba took a deep breath. “I’ve actually thought of what we should do.” He reached for his bag and, after a bout of fumbling, drew out a piece of lined paper. “I’ve invented a game.”
“You want to come back, so you invented a game?” Sho frowned, wrinkling his nose.
“Yes. We’re going to play tag - with mail,” Aiba clarified. “Look at this,” Aiba spread the piece of paper on the floor and set four jars of fireflies around it.
Nino knelt on his futon to read the scrawl. “Is this some kind of schedule?”
“That’s right, Nino-chan,” Aiba beamed. “The reason why this needs to be a game is because we need motivation to keep in contact; so we’ve got to have fun doing it! We write in the order of how we met each other, starting with me because ‘a’ is the first kana. Deadlines are the last day of every month. We can send our letters out any time after the ones addressed to us arrive, and every time we send letters out, we also have to send out the ones we receive. Just to keep everybody in the loop, you know?”
Jun peered at the schedule. “So, say I receive a letter from you. I will then write one to Nino and put the letter you wrote to me in the envelope as well?”
“Yup. This way Nino can read both mine and yours.”
Nino was sceptical about the game helping them stay close to one another. “But since we already know who is sending letters to whom, why don’t we just mail that person whenever we want to?”
“Then it wouldn’t be tag anymore,” Sho and Ohno said together, before exchanging glances and slapping each other an amused high-five.
“How about replies?” Nino argued. “What if you want to answer the letter that was sent to you? You have to write to the next person, right?”
Aiba grinned. He had it all figured out.
“This bit of game-play is less restrictive. You can either call your sender, which wouldn’t be as fun, or write your reply in the letter that you send out, maybe in a postscript or something. You wouldn’t receive your reply until we start forwarding, though. Try to keep the replies short so we have some suspense going.” Aiba jabbed a finger in the air as he realised something. “A lot of this game hangs on suspense,” he said slowly, righting all the ideas in his head. “As you can see from the schedule, we write to each other from September to January, and then we begin the forwarding process.” He tapped the piece of paper. “See, in January I would’ve received everyone’s letters from Oh-chan, but Jun wouldn’t have read Nino’s, Oh-chan’s and Sho’s, while Nino wouldn’t have read Oh-chan and Sho’s and so on, right? So we will forward the entire bunch of letters to each other, February through June. Even though it’s the second time you’re seeing some of the letters, it’s nice to be reminded of what you wrote and what you got.”
“But by the time we begin the forwarding process, most of our lives would have been a few months out of date,” Jun challenged.
Aiba wasn’t fazed. “Then we call, or we come back in summer for a real-life update.”
“What do I do when the letters reach me?” asked Ohno, pointing to his name, written beside ‘June’.
“You keep them and hand them to the respective addressee when we come back to Ikeda,” Aiba announced with a flourish. He felt smart for luring all of them back with mail.
Sho put up a hand. Aiba called on him.
“Teacher, all this sounds very interesting, but what if I want to contact one of you and my turn hasn’t come to write a letter?”
“Call,” Aiba said simply. “There are no rules for calling.”
Nino snorted. “Then what are the letters for, if we’ve got telephones?”
Aiba slung an arm around Nino’s neck, sighing in mock sympathy. “You don’t seem to get the point of this, Nino-chan.”
“I don’t, not really.”
“Letters are tangible,” Ohno remarked. “They’re like a keepsake, a trigger to some kind of past experience.” The rest nodded.
Aiba continued, “When we get them back, we can think: ‘What had I written to so-and-so that elicited such a response?’ Telephone conversations just disappear after you hang up. Having a piece of paper in your hands, covered in someone else’s handwriting, is special.”
“The evidence of a memory,” Sho supplied, his voice soft. “I like that.”
Jun nudged Nino. “It’d be hard to forget.”
Nino conceded with a grin. “It will.”
*
The next morning, all five of them piled into Nino’s grandfather’s pickup truck (it seemed like all the farmers in Ikeda had one) to pick up the rest of Jun’s luggage. When they reached Aiba’s place, Aiba’s grandmother came to greet them, and Nino revealed he only knew who Aiba’s grandmother was because his grandfather had a colossal crush on her. There was definitely a vested interest in him allowing Nino to hang out with Aiba and not help in the fields. Aiba was slightly horrified, but calmly stated that their grandparents were both excellent Japanese citizens. Ohno wondered what that had to do with anything. Sho assured that he’d get his uncle to keep an eye on them. Jun couldn’t find a shred of sense in the entire conversation.
*
Nino left the same day Aiba did and hitched a ride with his family, much to the displeasure of Yusuke. Yusuke hadn’t really gotten over the absence of a beach in Ikeda and spent the entire month moping indoors. Aiba had tried inviting him to hang out with his friends but Yusuke stubbornly kept his head buried in Shonen Jump, ignoring his brother’s goodwill.
Ohno promised to take care of the bus, and when it was Sho’s turn to go he was upset that he hadn’t revised more biology in it. Sho promised to send Ohno’s letter on time and forward him the mail. Ohno asked him if he’d be back next summer. Sho confessed that he didn’t know. Ohno gave him a hug, and Sho felt like crying as he entered his uncle’s pickup, waving to Ohno until he was just a dot on the horizon.
Part two