Chapter 9: First Anniversary

Translator: Soafp

June 8, 2024. Saturday. 4:32 AM. I am 16 years old.

“Hey, who is it? Tell me, Kai-chan…”

In my six-tatami bedroom, there is no cute nameplate like in Kai-chan’s room. The hardwood floor is spotless, thanks to my stepmother who vacuums it without asking. On my white-painted study desk, there’s only the bare minimum of items.

The bed, curtains, and pillows are all plain white. My room is sterile, with no warmth, no scent. It’s not that I keep it organized; I just don’t keep anything here. Even the light blue school bag I had in elementary school is gone, disposed of long ago.

The photos that accumulated every time my father and stepmother took me somewhere have been quietly thrown away, and none are left with me.

But that doesn’t bother me. It’s not that I’m into minimalism or anything. There is no place for me in this house, so I leave nothing here. My place is in Kai-chan’s room in Kodaira. Even though my mother is in the hospital, the room hasn’t been given up, so it remains as it was.

That room is where my soul belongs… I’ve always told myself that, and that’s why I’ve always thrown away anything unnecessary. But as I’ve continued to live like this, lately I’ve started to lose track of what's truly necessary to keep living.

In this cold, white bed, I wake up. It seems I fell asleep with my blazer still on, collapsed on my pillow. I rub my eyes. They’re soaking wet. Oh, I see. I only just now realized I was crying.

Every day, every day, I either dream of that day inside the van, or of Kai-chan when he was alive. I guess my sleep is shallow.

That's why I always wake up at this same time—around 4:30 AM. Because of that, I don’t need an alarm clock, and I always have plenty of time for homework and studying for exams… But even though I have time to study, it seems the “quality” isn't great, and I always just barely avoid failing my tests.

Still, for some reason…

The dawn light that seeps through the gap in the curtains scorches my retinas, making them ache. When I open the window on the fifth floor, the wind that blows in passes through the large gap in my ribs, making me shiver with cold. The cawing of crows echoes sharply in my eardrums, leaving me feeling uneasy and alone.

Since that day, every day, every morning, has been unbearably painful.

Since that day… that’s right. I remember now. How could I have forgotten? It was a year ago today. June 8th.

The day my one and only little brother, whom I was supposed to protect—the one with the cute pink bear dress and adorable wolf-cut hairstyle—jumped off the roof of his middle school building, from the fourth floor, and died.