Once mid-June had passed, days when it didn’t rain were actually rare.
The start of the rainy season was announced last Wednesday. When the announcer declared it on the morning radio, my old man clicked his tongue, saying, “The schedule’s going to get pushed back.” I silently sipped my miso soup.
On days it rained, I went over to the Miyashita house.
There were plenty of pretexts. Checking for leaks. Seeing to the moisture under the floor. Adjusting fittings. Inspecting stakes. None of them were lies. Yet each was a job that took less than an hour to finish.
For the remaining time, I helped Akari clean up in the Japanese-style room.
Wrapping her grandmother’s kimonos one by one in kimonos paper. Wrapping old tableware in newspaper. Testing an antique electric fan pulled from deep inside the closet to see if it still ran. Akari held small memories for each and every item, sharing them bit by bit while keeping her hands moving. I mostly did nothing more than nod along.
One day, a dust-covered fan emerged from the top cupboard of the closet. It was a very old model with blue blades.
“I wonder if this works.”
Akari plugged it in and pressed the switch.
The fan made a rattling, shuddering noise before its blades slowly began to turn. Dust accumulated over many years launched into the tatami room all at once.
“Wah!”
Akari turned her face away and began coughing. Taking the dust head-on, I closed my eyes as well. With every rotation of the blades, a gray cloud spread through the room. Panicking, the two of us threw open the glass doors.
A breeze carrying the scent of rain swept the dust out into the garden.
We looked at each other. A clump of dust rested on Akari’s bangs. The shoulders of my work clothes were also dusted white.
Akari burst out laughing.
Caught up in it, I found myself laughing too. It had been a long time since I laughed out loud.
“So you do laugh, Ryo-kun.”
Akari said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“…I do laugh, at least.”
“First time I’ve seen it. You always look so serious.”
Hearing that, I put my hand to my face. Was I making that kind of face? I hadn’t noticed it myself.
Once it finished puffing out dust, the electric fan began turning surprisingly quietly. Having been used by her grandmother for decades, it was still capable of producing a proper breeze.
“I wonder if I should give this to the buyer.”
“No telling if they’d actually want it.”
“In that case, I’ll take it back with me.”
Saying so, Akari moved her face close to the fan blades and uttered an “Ahhh”. Her warbling voice vibrated off the blades and echoed back. She really does childish things, I thought.
The dahlia buds swelled larger day by day. The red peeking through the gaps in the sepals had grown to where it could no longer be hidden.
＊
That day, a mist-like rain fell right from the morning.
Shortly after midday, Akari stopped organizing the sitting room and said, gazing into the depths of the yard.
“When will the well be filled?”
“It depends on the scheduling for the purification ritual. When I contacted the priest, he said he’s free in mid-July.”
“I see.”
Rising to her feet, Akari slipped into sandals on the veranda.
“Is it okay if I go see it for a bit?”
Together, we walked into the back of the garden. Since I had been mowing the weeds little by little on sunny days, it was easier to walk than before.
The well was in the northeast corner of the garden, hidden in the shade of a large persimmon tree.
The stone well curb was covered in moss and crumbling in places. Cold air crawled up from the gap in the half-dislodged wooden cover. Peering inside, far below a black water surface could be seen faintly glimmering. With every falling raindrop, that light quivered slightly.
“There’s still water in it.”
Grabbing the edge of the well curb, Akari leaned down to look.
“That’s dangerous.”
“It’s okay.”
Even as she said so, she leaned forward even further. Instinctively, I grabbed her upper arm.
Akari turned around in surprise.
“…Sorry.”
I let go of her. Akari said nothing, pulling her body back just a bit from the edge of the well. On the fingertips that had touched her upper arm, her warmth through the damp blouse lingered for a while.
“Ryo-kun, you said the exact same thing long ago.”
“Eh?”
“That it’s dangerous. When I was looking in, you pulled my clothes from behind.”
Akari said, keeping her gaze fixed on the bottom of the well.
“The summer I was ten. You were probably twelve, Ryo-kun. I was crying right here by this well. Crying so hard.”
Deep within my memories, something stirred.
“There were, well, various reasons. I didn’t want to stay in the house, so I hid out here. Then, a boy peeked through from the other side of the hedge.”
A persimmon tree. A hedge. A summer evening. Cries of cicadas.
“The boy looked at me with a slightly troubled expression. Then he told me to come with him, led me to the well, and said it.”
――Speak into the well, and no one will hear.
That voice hadn’t come from Akari’s mouth. It was my own voice, from a long, long time ago.
“Whatever you say sinks to the bottom of the water, so nobody will ever know. So just say everything you want to say right here.”
As those words escaped my lips, Akari opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“…You remembered?”
“A little.”
It was far more than just a little. Once unspooled, my memories grew clearer one after another, like paper soaked in rain bringing hidden text to light.
The end of summer vacation. Passing by the old road on my bicycle, I caught sight of a white dress through a gap in the hedge. A small back crouching by the well’s edge, shoulders trembling. When I called out, the child looked up in surprise. With swollen, tear-stained eyes, she glared intently at me.
Back then, rumors about this well were famous among the town’s kids. The well at old lady Miyashita’s place was bottomless, and anything yelled into it would fall all the way to hell. So, whatever you couldn’t tell anyone, you should just tell that well. It was that kind of silly rumor.
I shared that story with the crying girl. Not knowing what else to do, it was the only thing I could think of.
After she finished shouting, the girl was still sobbing. Completely at a loss, I patted the back rack of my bicycle. Hop on, I said. The girl looked hesitant, but silently straddled the luggage rack anyway.
Riding two on the bike, we went down the old road at dusk. I stopped the bicycle in front of the penny candy store and bought two bottles of Ramune with my meager allowance. The glass marble inside the bottle clinked softly.
Holding the Ramune in both hands, the girl didn’t say a single word until the very end. But right as we parted ways, she softly uttered a small “Thank you.”
That was all. Once summer break ended, the girl vanished from the town. The following summer, I was tied up with middle school club activities and stopped passing by the Miyashita residence altogether.
It was a matter of just a few days in a single summer. It was only natural that I had forgotten it.
Even so, I felt terribly sorry now for having forgotten.
“Do you remember what I yelled?”
“…No. Not that much.”
“I’m glad.”
Akari smiled, looking relieved.
“Then it really sank properly.”
The rain was pattering against the persimmon leaves.
“You yelled something too, Ryo-kun.”
“Me too?”
“Yeah. Right after I yelled, you said ‘my turn then’. In a really loud voice.”
Akari rested both hands on the well’s edge and raised her voice slightly toward the bottom, as if mimicking my childhood tone.
“――I’m gonna be someone who builds giant houses!”
The voice echoed off the stone walls of the well, turning into a muffled sound that fell toward the bottom.
I stood there, speechlessly.
I remembered. No, I had forgotten until this very moment. But I had definitely shouted that. A house bigger and grander than any other in this town, one that everyone would look up at. I would design it myself, build it myself. At twelve years old, I had truly believed in that.
That’s why I went to a vocational school for architecture. That’s why I joined a design firm in Tokyo.
Then, in less than two years, I ran back home.
“Wasn’t that supposed to be unheard by anyone?”
The voice I finally squeezed out was surprisingly raspy, even to me.
“I ended up hearing it. Since I was right next to you.”
Akari smiled mischievously. But seeing my face, her smile quickly vanished.
“…I’m sorry. Did I make you remember something unpleasant?”
“No.”
I averted my eyes from the well.
“It’s just something from childhood.”
Akari looked at my profile for a while. She seemed to want to say something, but in the end, she said nothing. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the dark surface of the well.
“You’re going to fill this in, right?”
“That’s what the contract says.”
“Yeah. I know.”
A single raindrop fell into the well. After a long pause, a faint splash came back up.
“Ryo-kun, can I ask you for something?”
“What is it?”
“Could you make filling in the well the very last day? The last day before I leave this town.”
Akari spoke while keeping her gaze fixed on the bottom of the well.
“Because until then, I feel like I might still be able to say something here.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what.
“I’ll try consulting with the priest.”
“Thank you.”
＊
Returning to the tatami room, Akari resumed her cleaning as though nothing had happened. I helped her in silence.
But in my head, the echo from that well kept ringing continuously.
――I’m gonna be someone who builds giant houses.
What would twelve-year-old me say if he saw me now? Quitting architectural drafting, replacing roof tiles at my dad’s construction firm, and making up excuses to visit a woman who’s getting married soon on rainy days.
He’d probably be disappointed.
In the evening, as I was packing up to leave, Akari pointed into the garden from the veranda.
“Look.”
The largest dahlia bud had opened its mouth just a tiny bit. The tightly closed sepals had peeled back, and from inside, a single deep red petal peeked out into the rain.
“It won’t be long now.”
1 Leaning against the veranda pillar, Akari stared at the bud.
“…No, it won’t.”
It would bloom soon. And when it bloomed, the day she would leave this town would draw one step closer too.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck, I couldn’t bring myself to start the engine for a while. I just watched the rain trickling down the windshield.
＊
That night, at the dinner table, my dad muttered softly.
“Miyashita’s grandkid, you know. That’s the kid you used to carry around on the back of your bike back in the day, right?”
My chopsticks came to a halt.
“…You remember that?”
“Remember? Of course I do. You dragged her all over the place nearly every day during summer break. Old lady Miyashita even came by our house to thank us. Said her grandkid started smiling again thanks to our boy.”
Almost every single day.
In my memories, it was only a matter of a few days. But from the way Dad said it, it seemed I was with that girl the entire time until the end of that summer.
“Don’t you recall?”
“…Just a little.”
“Is that so.”
Without saying another word, my dad took a sip of his shochu.
I stared down at the white rice in my bowl.
I had forgotten. Making the crying girl laugh. Giving her a ride on the back of my bike every day. The fact that her grandma came all the way over to express her gratitude.
Forgetting everything, I went to Tokyo, ran back here in defeat, and went on living while pretending I wanted nothing out of life.
Even though Akari had remembered everything.
What did that crying girl shout during that summer? Did I truly not remember?
Or was I simply pretending not to remember?
The answer remained sunken at the bottom of the well, refusing to float back up.
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