Meeting a Burst of Fireworks

That chalk-white ghost face. On a Saturday afternoon, still half asleep, I was dragged out of the house by Mio. My eyelids kept twitching on the way, and my sixth sense told me something unusual was bound to happen today. Sure enough, Mio led me in circles through Harbor Amusement Park until I was dizzy. When she finally stopped, I looked up and saw we were on the third floor beneath the huge words announcing the haunted house's new theme: Midnight Chimes. I tried to turn and run, but Mio and Kei Suou shoved me straight into the fire pit. And yet if they hadn't, perhaps I would never have walked into that famous haunted house in this life, and perhaps I would never have seen you again. The ghost lifted off his mask lightly, and a face with familiar, sharp lines appeared before me. Suwa Hayashibara. Without the slightest hesitation, I called your name the instant I saw that face.

You always wrinkle your brows a little when you talk. Before I turned twelve, we both lived in a little town called Shiomi. It was neither rich nor peaceful. The whole town was rows of old mud houses with an occasional little two-story Western-style place mixed in. Ivy climbed over the crooked dormer windows, and I lived in the room on the second floor, half hidden behind it, with only a few strands of light coming in. In my earliest memory, my parents had already left me with my grandmother. The big house was always damp and dark. The lower floor was rented to a scrap dealer from out of town; upstairs, only Grandma and I lived there. By primary school, Grandma had become obsessed with mahjong and went next door to play every afternoon and every evening. Most of the time I was lonely. I didn't know fear yet, not until one day someone found a corpse in the little garbage heap at the edge of town. After that the police came roaring in and questioned everyone they caught. I never knew how that case ended, but from then on I no longer dared walk alone after dark or sleep with the lights off. And yet our little town sometimes lost power. I remember that on one rainy night, after a flash of lightning, the lights went out at once. I sat there holding a pencil, suddenly helpless, as a huge terror swept over me. The stairwell was pitch-black. I didn't dare go downstairs alone, so I threw the window wide open. All the ghost stories I had ever heard flooded into my mind, and at last I burst into tears at the pounding rain and the scattered lights outside, until I heard someone shouting my name. "Nene Sakuraba, Nene Sakuraba!"

You crept through the hall below and ran up the stairs, and I threw myself into your arms. Back then you were small, thin, and dark, but you had strong arms. You held me and comforted me like a grown-up. "Don't be afraid, Nene. Look how beautiful the lightning is. Doesn't it look like giant fireworks?" I stared, then turned foolishly toward the window, only to scream when another crack of thunder split the sky. You led me to bed and wrapped me tightly in the quilt. "Don't be afraid. Sleep well. Tomorrow morning you'll see a beautiful rainbow." "Really?" I asked. You answered with a firm look that allowed no doubt. I slept soundly that night, but when I opened my eyes in the morning, you were already gone. I didn't even stop to put on my shoes before I ran to the window. The morning light on the horizon was dazzling. Stranger still, when I got to school, you weren't there. All the children in Shiomi went to Shiomi Elementary. There couldn't have been more than five hundred of us. When I went to your classroom, I heard you'd taken sick leave. A boy told me your mother's illness had flared up again. I'd known before then that your family had been listed as needy. People looked at you with pity, but they never dared show concern too openly, because your mother, whose mind had broken, not only caused trouble for the neighbors but once even seized someone's arm and bit down hard. One time when I went looking for you, she scratched my hand too. She wore bright red nail polish and her nails were so long they looked monstrous. Of course I never dared say that to you. More often I would see from a distance the way you washed her face, wiped her hands, helped her change clothes. Sometimes she didn't even recognize you. You would end up with scratches and bruises yourself. Then I would steal tincture, alcohol, and gauze from Grandma's cupboard and bandage you the way nurses did on television. Once I wrapped your hand until it looked like a rice dumpling and asked whether it was ugly. Instead you asked me, "Do you think my mother is beautiful?" I froze and said yes. You tapped my nose. "You're lying. You just frowned." I couldn't argue with that, but you didn't seem to mind. You told me that when she wasn't having an episode, she was very beautiful. What I always wanted to ask was whether you had ever hated her. Your father left you very early, leaving behind only a work-accident settlement to keep you alive, and your mother, unable to accept his death, let go of being a mother altogether. Did you ever hate her? But when I saw your eyes, I knew you still loved her, even if she had become your greatest burden. To tell the truth, I never saw her up close when she was calm. But later I understood she must have been very beautiful, otherwise how could she have given birth to someone as handsome as you. By middle school you'd already grown into a little young man, clear-featured and bright. Plenty of adults in Shiomi knew that although I was being raised by my grandmother, my parents were well off and sent back a lot of money every month. Because of that my allowance was several times that of the other kids, and naturally the local punks wanted it. When I got cornered in an alley, you appeared like some hero from television. You weren't tall, and you were thin, but when you fought you were fierce enough that those boys scattered in no time. Later I treated you to a box of glass candy. You were so moved you nearly cried. I laughed at you for being silly, and you said it was the first time in your life you'd tasted candy that sweet. Maybe you didn't know that every time I think of the look on your face back then, my heart aches so much I want to cry. You weren't even thirteen. I never knew whether you had already seen through life's hardship or simply grown used to it. Your dark little face always wore a smile. But what you never knew was that the wider you smiled, the sadder I became.

Three years went by like that, and now you were entirely changed. Without the white ghost robe and twisted mask, you looked clean and handsome. When we came out, even Mio looped an arm around my waist and demanded to know why I hadn't introduced such a handsome guy to her earlier. We had been separated for a full three years. I had imagined our reunion countless times. I thought I would grab you and demand to know where you had been, or else say nothing at all and throw myself into your arms, weeping, blaming you for vanishing and leaving me to swallow loneliness all these years. But when the day really came, I was mute. I couldn't cry, couldn't laugh. I only followed behind you. We walked and walked along the river until the night deepened and the riverside lights came on one by one. Only then did you say that on the morning of your second year of middle school, you hadn't gone to school either, so you never knew my parents had taken me away. From Shiomi to Yokohama, I cried for a full four hours in the car. In those days we had no phones, no internet. It was absurdly easy to lose someone. That first New Year, my father brought Grandma to Yokohama too, and for half a year every letter I wrote to you sank like a stone into the sea. "I did receive one," you said suddenly. "But only one. I snatched it away from a punk. That was when I found out they'd been secretly opening and destroying every letter you sent, just to get back at me." "So that was it," I sighed softly. You turned to look at me, your eyes gentle and deep. Before we parted that night, you wrote me a number and told me I could call at any time, especially when there was thunder and lightning. I nodded and suddenly felt that the night was very beautiful. The next day at school, Mio dragged me aside at once. "Come on, tell the truth. Who was that handsome guy yesterday? What is he to you?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Do you know how ugly you look when you gossip?" "As if I did it for nothing. Kei Suou bribed me with breakfast, okay?" she said, looking as though he had forced the meal down her throat. "He's liked you for two full years!"

Wait, I almost said, then ran off.

What I really wanted to say was, what are two years? I've had twelve with you. Of course I was too embarrassed to say it. By noon I only asked Mio to cover for me, then bolted to the haunted house at Harbor Amusement Park, thinking I would give you a surprise.

But I had no choice. I had to call you from a public phone booth.

It took you more than an hour to reach the gate of my school. To make up for it, you took me to eat near the academy. The reputation of Fruit Lake High as a rich kids' school was no joke. The students were the children and relatives of every official worth naming, and even the restaurants and boutiques around it were decorated with the same gaudy luxury as a commercial center.

When we ordered, I didn't notice the expression on your face. As always, I picked several of my favorite dishes, which also happened to be the restaurant's specialties. I said, "You really do have good taste. How did you know at a glance that I come here all the time?" You gave me a smile that wasn't really a smile. "Is that so?"

To be honest, the way you wolfed your food down was adorable too. I'd spent so much time watching boys like Kei Suou eat with perfect breeding that I almost found you irresistible.

You didn't even dare raise your eyes. There was an awkwardness on your face I'd never seen before. In that instant I suddenly understood. My hand went to my bag and found it empty. You lifted your face like a prisoner stripped naked for public shame and said, "I'm sorry."

"You're eating this early? That's not like you." Seeing me rush over, Kei Suou, slinging a one-strap schoolbag over one shoulder, asked in surprise, "Can I borrow a hundred yen?" I cut straight to it. "What for?" "Why do you care? Saving a life is better than eating seven grapes, got it? Hurry."

"You're hopeless. You even forgot your wallet." He scolded me in his usual good-tempered way. "Thanks." I snatched the money and ran back to the restaurant to pay the bill. What I never expected was that the moment you stepped outside, the only thing you said to me was, "Nene Sakuraba, we really shouldn't see each other anymore." The smile froze on my face. We had been apart for three full years. I thought this reunion would fill you with the same astonished joy and gratitude that it filled me with. Instead you threw down that icy sentence and disappeared from sight, your retreating back so resolute it hurt me. Only then did I understand that I hadn't been absent from your life for a mere handful of days, but for three long years of three hundred and sixty-five days each. Later Kei Suou gripped my shoulders in anguish. "What exactly do you like about him? He can't even afford one meal for you. What can you possibly expect him to give you? You know I've liked you for two whole years, Nene Sakuraba. I can give you the very best of everything." The very best of everything? I lifted my face and laughed coldly at him, this boy who wore nothing but brand names and had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth. If I didn't look like this, if I wasn't wearing a fashionable dress, if I were standing in an alley after being robbed by thugs and pushed into the mud, would you still say that? Would you still like me? Perhaps because he had never seen me like that, Kei slowly let go of my shoulders and stared at me in confusion. For me, the best thing in the world was what I had already lost for three whole years, and now I was going to get it back. I'm sorry, Kei Suou, I said in my heart as I turned and stepped into the elevator. At the height of the twenty-fifth floor, wind poured in through the window and brushed my face as gently as you once had.

Have you ever had a day when the whole world goes dark? From that day on, I decided I was going to be with you. In truth, long before that, I had felt we were the same kind of people. No parents' love, no real sense of safety. I still remember the slight tremor in your hand when you stood in that restaurant counting one crumpled bill after another in front of the waitress. After that, none of my calls to you ever went through, and I began cutting class to look for you everywhere. I was five months from adulthood then. But by that time, from Shiomi to Yokohama, I already knew what I wanted most. You know what Yokohama is like in summer? There is punishing sun and there is abundant rain. No matter how hard the thunder crashes here, the power never goes out. No matter how heavy the rain, the water in this apartment complex never rises over your knees. Over the years I had more flowered dresses than I could count and more spending money than I could ever use. But my heart still had a great hole in it, and on nights of thunder and lightning I needed a hug to fill it. Anyone who has never lived through it will never understand that what I wanted most wasn't luxury. It was simply someone staying beside me through such a night, and that was worth more than everything else. Maybe I cut too many classes. Eventually the school summoned my parents. In front of teachers and students alike, my father slapped me hard across the face. By then I was numb. In truth, over the years I had spent very little time with them. My memory of my father is not of him patting my head with affection, but of him slapping me brutally. My mother was always glamorous and beautiful. She bought me expensive clothes and, once in a while, pinched my cheek gently. Do you believe me when I say that over all those years, you were the only person who ever held me the way you did? Later, I would often wrap my arms around myself, close my eyes, and pretend it was you holding me. I was too greedy for that kind of tenderness, for the warmth passed from heartbeat to heartbeat when our chests were pressed together. I will never forget it in this life. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much it costs, I will give everything to find you. That was what I said to Kei Suou when he caught me climbing the wall to skip class again. I thought he would decide I was beyond saving, but instead he wanted to make a deal. He promised to help me find you, using every resource he could, on the condition that I stop cutting class and agree to be his girlfriend. His father was a high-ranking official, and his mother owned a hotel, so I suppose he took after her. Even love was a business method to him. But I agreed without hesitation, because agreeing was nothing more than nodding my head. Three months later, he really did find you in a bar. In my delight I looped my arm through yours and joked to him that it would be a waste if he never became a private detective. His face turned green with anger. He grabbed my arm and asked, "Ning, what about what you promised me?" I turned away from him and looked only at you. Who says first love isn't full of courage and hot blood? When you're young and reckless, when time feels endless and the future unknown, you can fly forward blindfolded and still dare everything. Even if your head splits open, even if you're covered in wounds, you won't let go. You believe stubbornly that once hands are joined, they will stay joined. That day I dragged you to a mall and bought two new matching Nokia phones. You stared in shock. "Don't think about anything. Just remember this. I want to be with you, all right?" I said it in your arms with tears in my eyes, already able to picture the rage on my parents' faces when they discovered that several thousand yuan in cash had vanished from the house. What I really wanted to tell you was that I wasn't afraid of anything as long as you were beside me. But in the end they still dragged me back. They took the phones, and they stripped me of every coin I had on me. I also saw my father slap you hard across the face. You didn't even flinch. The helplessness in your eyes has woken me from dreams again and again ever since. You were so foolish, still naive enough to think they were only worried you couldn't make me happy. They were really worried that we would become the stain they could never erase from their lives. The moment my father called you a beggar, I understood that in his eyes, I too was only the daughter who begged from him every day. I saw you again after I had been locked up for a week and managed to escape. At the construction site, a stone had smashed your arm. It hung in a cast before your chest like a rice dumpling.

And yet you smiled and squinted at me and asked, "Nene Sakuraba, if I lost a hand someday, would you still like me?"

That day I went with you to the famous Rokkakutei. People in Yokohama like to call someone insane by saying they came out of Rokkakutei. Only when we got there did I finally understand why. A doctor led us to the fifth floor. The corridors were lined with railings, locked door after locked door, and rooms from which strange cries emerged. At last you stopped outside room 506. Through the window I saw a woman whose head had been shaved. In an instant, tears poured from your eyes. "Mom, I've come to see you." Later you told me that the day I left Shiomi was also the day you agreed to let your aunt send your mother to the Yokohama psychiatric hospital. You told me too that you had meant to come back and tell me I would never have to worry again about getting hurt by your mother when I visited. But you never imagined that I would leave you that very same day. While you said those words, I wrapped all my strength around you and said, "I'm sorry. If I had known, I would never have left that little town in this lifetime." I cried helplessly in your arms and, stumbling over my words, told you with all the certainty I had that even if you lost everything else, you would never lose me. Your lips trembled, and in the end you promised that we would never be separated again. On the roof of the hospital, our hooked fingers made me naively believe that this was what a lifelong vow looked like. But reality is a net. With our thin wings, we could never struggle free of it.

And then came the night when I could no longer sing and tell you that you were mine. For once both my parents stayed home, and the lights burned all night. My father smoked until cigarette butts covered the floor, and my mother shed a few tears. At last I nodded, hoarse-voiced, and called Kei Suou. "Please, help me with something." Perhaps he had never heard me speak that way before, because he came at once. I pulled him into my room without a word, handed him a slip of paper, and told him, "Read these sentences out loud once." Then I clenched my teeth and pressed record. After that I gave him the recorder and told him that no matter what, he had to play it for you. That night the only thing circling in my mind was the investigation my mother had someone conduct on you. I had once thought that you worked as a ghost in the haunted house, that you hauled bricks at the construction site, that you couldn't pay my restaurant bills, all because you had truly run out of options. But that wasn't the truth. You had never told me what kind of bargain existed between you and the aunt who insisted your mother be sent to a psychiatric hospital. Those pages of documents and photographs were what let me understand that the real reason you had no way out, the real reason your life had become so hard, was me. Because of me, you sent your mother to that place no human should have to stay in. Because of me, you refused your aunt's promise that as long as your mother entered the hospital, she would not only cover the medical bills but also pay for your education and even your entire future.

And still because of me, after graduating from Shiomi High you came to Yokohama. You were only eighteen then, yet so stubborn. No matter how many times your aunt came for you, you would not go back to her side. Maybe you saw her charity as alms, but I know that the reason you chose Yokohama was only to search for me. Otherwise why would your eyes have filled with the urge to cry the instant you seized my hand in the haunted house? Do you know what happened when I learned the truth? I broke. Because when I stole money from home to buy you a phone, when I took you to expensive restaurants, when I bought you clothes and dressed you up to look handsome, I thought I was being kind to you. I even thought I was saving you, protecting you, when I paid your hospital bills, just as you had once protected me. I thought that in this cold city, only I could save you, only I could carry you away from dust, filth, stale meals, threadbare clothes, and a humble life. I used to think that as long as you had me, your life would become better. Only much later did I learn that the one who had placed you in all that dust and dirt, who had made people mock you and slight you, was me. How was I meant to live with that? How was I supposed to bear it? Then perhaps only by disappearing could I truly protect you. But my dear Suwa, could you forgive me?

I have no idea what expression you wore in the end. Kei Suou told me that while you listened to the recording, you only stared blankly at the phone, the four-thousand-yuan Nokia that was the most expensive gift I had ever given you. Fighting back tears, you said to Kei, "Nene Sakuraba is most afraid of thunder and lightning at night. Even if she doesn't say anything, when you hold her you can feel her trembling. So no matter what, please stay beside her." Then you fled in confusion. But do you know this? When Kei told me that, all I wanted to say to you was that in this life I wanted only your arms around me, only your warmth. And what I regret most is that I never had the chance to tell you that I had loved you for twelve whole years. Twelve years. Later I would be grateful for the length of that memory, because only something that long was enough to sustain the rest of my life.

After that, I truly never saw you again. Every now and then I still press play and listen to the words I forced myself to say through tears. "Jingnian, I'm really tired. I've given him so much money and he still eats two-yuan fried rice from roadside stalls in front of me. Every time I smell his breath I want to vomit." Then comes Kei Suou's voice: "Nene Sakuraba, I told you long ago, he and you live in two different worlds. Remember? You used to say boys with black dirt under their nails were disgusting." At that point I always slam the stop button and fling the recorder away. It falls from the twenty-fifth floor in a perfect arc through the air. No one understands you better than I do.

With your fierce pride, how could you bear my contempt? How could you bear finding out that in my eyes you had once been described with the word disgusting? But do you know this: every time I saw your hands covered in dust, every time I saw thick calluses grow on your fingers, split open and bleed, then heal only to split again, over and over, I ached for you. You never wanted my money. You accepted the phone because you wanted to stay connected to me. You wore the clothes I bought because you didn't want to look too shabby beside me. You went with me to expensive restaurants because you were afraid taking me to the little stall by the station would make me feel wronged. How could I not understand that? Even two years later, when I happened to find a very expensive but highly praised online shop that imported brand-name Korean bags, I recognized you at once from the shop introduction. In the final line you had written that you had once loved a girl deeply, but because he could not even buy her a single bag, he left in despair, and now that he owned this shop, that girl would never come back. My heart jolted. Every word you wrote became the reflected light of time, melted into the pure white years of my youth where they can never be peeled away. Yes, yes. That was the final line on the recording too. "You can't even buy me one bag. What future can you give me?" In the noisy manga cafe, I turned away at last, unable to bear it, and tears slid down my face. Then I remembered how you once told me you wanted to be a man who kept his promises, just like your father. If he loved a girl, he would treat her well for a lifetime. I hadn't believed you then. I told you that you'd learned sweet talk. Later you told me that it was because, with his last breath, your father had apologized to your mother for not being able to walk with her to the end. From then on, you had resolved that once you chose someone, it would be for life. But in the years afterward, who was it that you loved? Whoever she was, I think she must have been very happy. As for me, tired and worn at nineteen, I lived inside memory. After you left, there was never again a single person in this world who could make me happy and make me ache the way you did. You will also never know that I went back to Shiomi. Sunlight poured like water into the room that smelled faintly of dust, over the creaking wooden staircase and the walls furred with moss. But I was no longer afraid, not even alone on a night of thunder and lightning, because you had once told me that such a sight was like enormous fireworks, and that being able to witness it at all was a kind of luck.