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I was going anyway, so quite naturally I followed him up
the street. He was a fast walker, and I, unwilling to go
faster, soon fell behind.
BANANA YOSHIMOTO
I watched Hiiragi. In his own clothes, he was good-
looking enough to turn people's heads. Wearing a black
sweater, he was walking along like he always did talil
long-limbed, calm, cool, and light on his feet. No wonder
I thought as I watched him from behind, the girls couldn't
get enough of him. Yumiko had died, and he was wearing
her uniform in her memory. It just didn't happen that
often, losing one's brother and girlfriend at once. It was the
epitome of unusual. Maybe I, too, were I a carefree high
school girl, would long to be the one to restore him to life
and would fall in love with him. Girls that age find nothing
more attractive.
If I just called out his name he would turn and smile at
me. I knew that. But still, somehow I had a bad feeling
about calling to him as he walked alone up the street; I felt
there was nothing anyone could do for him. Or maybe it
was just that I was terribly tired. Nothing could enter
directly into my heart. All I wanted was to get through this
as quickly as possible, to see the day when memories would
be just memories. But the more I wanted that, the further
away it seemed. Thinking of the future only made me
shudder.
Then Hiiragi suddenly stopped, and I automatically
stopped, too. Now you really are trailing him, I said to
myself, smiling. I took a step toward him and was about to
call out then I realized what he was looking at and froze
in my tracks.
He was staring into the window of a tennis shop. How
well I understood the blank look on his face as he peered
MOONLIGHT SHADOW
into that window. He seemed to be feeling nothing at all.
But in that very lack of expression, the profundity of what
he was doing was transmitted nonetheless. It's like uncon-
scious conditioning, I thought, like a baby duck trailing
after some moving object, taking it for its mother. Though
the baby duck is unaware of it, it's very touching for the
observer.
That's how I felt, watching Hiiragi.
In the spring light he stood among the crowd, staring,
staring detachedly into that window. The sight of all that
tennis equipment must have had a powerful effect on him.
It did the same thing for Hiiragi that being with him did
for me: thanks to the trace of Hitoshi in him, his very
presence calmed me. I thought how sad that was.
I myself saw one of Yumiko's tennis matches. The first
time I met her I thought she was cute, all right, but she
struck me as a bit average, rather overly cheerful, not too
deep, and I couldn't imagine what Hiiragi saw in her that
bewitched him so. With Yumiko, Hiiragi was in a dream.
On the surface he was the same old Hiiragi, but something
in her quieted his spirit. In real strength, she was his match.
"What is it about her?" I asked Hitoshi one time.
"Apparendy it's tennis," he said, smiling.
"Tennis?"
"Yes. According to Hiiragi, she's incredible."
It was summer. The sun beat down mercilessly on the
high school tennis court. Hitoshi, Hiiragi, and I had gone
135
BANANA YOSHIMOTO
to watch Yumiko play in the finals. The shadows were
deep and dark under the blazing sun; our throats were dry
Everything was dazzlingly bright.
And no doubt about it, she was incredible. She was a
different person, not the little girl who ran after me laugh-
ing, calling, "Satsuki, Satsuki." I was amazed when I saw
her play. Hitoshi seemed surprised, too. Hiiragi said with
pride, "See what I mean? Incredible, isn't she?"
She played a take-no-prisoners game of tennis, propelled
by the full force of her intensity and powers of concentra-
tion. Then I knew how strong she really was. Her face was
all determination. It was a face capable of murder. Still,
after the deciding shot, the instant she'd won, she turned
to Hiiragi with her old baby-faced smile. It was impressive.
The four of us had a lot of fun together, and I liked her
very much. She'd say to me, "Satsuki, let's the four of us
always hang out together, don't you two ever break up."
Teasing, I would smile and say, "Well, it won't be us." She
would laugh and say, "Well, it won't be us either!"
And then it happened. It's too horrible.
I doubted if he was recalling her at this moment like I was.
Boys don't go out of their way to feel pain. But still, his
eyes, his whole person, were saying one thing only. He
himself would never speak it. To say it would mean to
suffer from it. To suffer terribly. That thing was, "I want
her to come back."
More than words, it was a prayer. I couldn't bear it. Was
that, then, how I looked by the river at dawn? And is that
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why Urara had spoken to me? Me, too. I, too, wanted to
see him. I wanted him. Hitoshi. To come back. At the very
least, I wanted to say a proper good-bye.
I knew I wouldn't tell Hiiragi what I'd seen today. I re-
solved to speak up cheerfully the next time, but for now I
left without calling to him.
With all that activity, my fever went up. It makes sense, I
thought; it simply follows that if one goes ginning around
town in the condition I was in, delirious, this would be the
result.
My mother laughed and asked me if it might not be like
a teething fever. Weakly, I laughed back. But in a sense I
think it was. Perhaps my unproductive thoughts had spread
like poison throughout my body.
That night, as usual, I awoke from a dream of Hitoshi. I
dreamed that in spite of my fever I had run to the river and
Hitoshi was there. He said to me, smiling, "You've got a
cold; what are you doing?" That was the lowest point yet.
When I opened my eyes it was dawn, time to get up and
get dressed. But it was cold, so very cold, and in spite of the
fact that my whole body felt flushed, my hands and feet
were like ice. I had the chills; I shuddered, my whole body
in pain.
I opened my eyes, trembling in the half-darkness. I felt
BANANA YOSHIMOTO
I was battling something absurdly enormous. Then, from t
deep within, I began to wonder if I mightn't lose.
It hurt to have lost Hitoshi. It hurt too much.
When we were in each other's arms, I knew something
that was beyond words. It was the mystery of being close
to someone who is not family. My heart dropped out, and
I was feeling what people fear the most; I touched the
deepest despair a person can know. I was lonely. Hideously
lonely. This was the worst. If I could get through this,
morning would come, and I knew without a doubt that I
would have fun again, laugh out loud. If only the sun
would rise. If only morning would come.
Whenever it had been like this before, I had set my teeth
and stood up to it; but now, lacking the strength to go to
the river, I could only suffer. Time inched along, as if I
were walking on shards of glass. I felt that if I could only
get to the river, Hitoshi really would be there. I felt insane.
I was sick at heart.
I sluggishly got up and went to the kitchen for some tea.
My throat was parched. Because of my fever, the whole
house looked surreally warped, distorted; the kitchen was
ice-cold and dark. Everyone was asleep. Delirious, I made
tea and went back to my room.
The tea seemed to help. It soothed my dry throat and
my breathing became natural again. I sat up in bed and
parted the curtains.
From my room I had a good view of the front gate and
yard. The trees and flowers rusded, trembling in the blue
morning air they seemed painted in flat colors, like a
diorama in a museum. It was pretty. These days I was well
MOONLIGHT SHADOW
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