Punishment

1

I run into Tokiwa as I leave the hospital.

Well, we don't technically meet, at first. I just glimpse her as she whizzes by. Her small orange bicycle speeds past, leaving a lingering afterimage. We've known each other for so long that my brain identifies her instantly as Tokiwa, but I don't actually get a good look at her.

It seems like Tokiwa notices me, too.

She brakes abruptly about one hundred feet past the hospital, her back wheel lifting slightly from the momentum as she comes to a stop. She's still wearing her school uniform, miniskirt and all, but the garishly colored racing tights she sports underneath can hardly be described as sexy.

Tokiwa looks mature for her age, her delicate features making her popular among our underclassmen. She often wears a stern expression, offset by her unique sort of charm. She has the aura of an older, more experienced girl who might treat an inexperianced boy gently.

I know all too well that it's all a trap, like the alluring exterior of a carnivorous plant.

Hey, if it isn't Iku. What are you doing here?

She calls out as she turns, still atop her bike. The wheels glide, her feet never even touching the ground, as if she was born riding a bicycle. She approaches me, once again stopping cleanly without touching the ground.

The bicycle she rides has handlebars that curve forward at a right angle, the kind that look as though even a glancing blow would topple most people. I think it's called a bullhorn bar, or something like that. A small tote bag is hanging from those distinctive handles, swinging back and forth.

She scrutinizes me, then tilts her head.

. . . What's with the angry face? Been a while since I've seen that.

. . . I'm not angry.

I touch my face as if to confirm her statement, not that doing so would reveal anything. Tokiwa watches my gesture with amusement.

Sometimes you make a scary face for no reason at all.

. . . Seems like it.

I've been told that many times. I'm not aware of it myself, but apparently there are times when I make such a murderous face that people are too scared to even talk to me. I don't even know the reason I make such a face, so there's no way for anyone else to know, either.

It's never because I'm being insulted or made fun of. It's just that, out of the blue, for reasons I don't understand, I seem to make a face as if I'm about to kill someone.

You haven't pulled that one since we started high school. But it's still scary, no matter how many times I see it. You look like a mafia hit man. If you could pull that face on purpose, you could be a regular in Kitano movies, you know?

Mafia? Not Yakuza?

Nah, doesn't feel like Yakuza. More like a professional hit man. An Italian one, who'd slice his boss's neck open with a knife.

Like in the middle of a shave?

Exactly. Or maybe you'd beat him to a pulp with a baseball bat.

Who am I, De Niro?

Tokiwa doesn't answer, but gazes toward the hospital, as if noticing it for the first time. Then, she looks back at me.

. . . What are you doing at a hospital? Are you sick or something?

Well, something quite remarkable came out of my urethra.

How tragic. A virgin with an STD. That's movie material.

They're not necessarily transmitted through sex, you know.

That's what makes it so tragic.

I almost feel like she has a point.

Tokiwa wipes the sweat off her forehead on the back of her fingerless gloves. He short hair is tied back, messy and careless, like she couldn't care less about her hair style. She often wears her hair up at school, too. I could easily imagine her shaving her head if the whim struck her.

What are you doing hanging around a place like this, Tokiwa?

While this hospital is a reasonable distance by train, there's nothing fun to do around it. I expect her to say that she just ended up here while cycling around or something, but instead, Tokiwa points to the tote bag swinging from her handlebars.

Just on my way back from shopping.

. . . Your sphere of activity is way too wide.

If this is too wide for you, then we're in trouble.

Given Tokiwa's athletic abilities, this would indeed be nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her. Her legs are more toned than any of the boys on the soccer team.

What did you buy? There's nothing around here.

Well, there's a store that sells premium feminine hygiene products.

Seriously? So you do get periods and stuff, Tokiwa?

Yep, lots. Every week. It's like a bloody bargain sale.

Sounds like a medical condition.

It's my damn uterus. It's so eager to have a baby it's unbearable.

Enough about that. What did you buy?

. . . Hmm? Oh, this.

Tokiwa pulls a rectangular plastic case from her tote bag. Something resembling playing cards peek through the clear plastic casing, though whatever it seems a little large for that.

What's that?

Tarot cards.

. . . Why the sudden interest in fortune-telling?

Well, it's interesting, right? Everyone is freaking out about how accurate it is.

. . . Didn't think you were the type to believe in that stuff, Tokiwa.

There is a girl in our class who carries tarot cards around with her. She is famous for her accurate readings, and is treated like a professional fortune teller. Girls and boys alike flock to her, with some people even get a reading done every day.

I just want to verify whether it's Nanase's power or the tarot cards.

So, you came all this way just to buy them?

I had no choice. Nanase said she bought hers here.

With a skeptical look on her face, Tokiwa stares at the case holding the tarot cards. She's definitely not the type to rely on fortune-telling. But it seems she still wants to check it out.

. . . So, will you come with me? Since you're already here.

Where to?

Anywhere is fine. There's a park about only half a mile from here. That'll work.

Only half a mile, she says.

You can ride on the back of my bike.

Isn't it against the law to ride tandem on a bicycle?

It's fine, don't worry about it.

As she suggested, I circle around to the back of the bicycle and place my shoe soles on the small bolts that secure the rear wheel. As I rest both hands on Tokiwa's sturdy shoulders, the bicycle moves forward.

Without any wobble, the bicycle continues to slide smoothly down the road.

I have always ridden on the back of Tokiwa's bike like this. I don't see anything wrong with it, even if some guys would find it emasculating. It would be stupid to wreck our perfect arrangement by bringing gender roles into it. Even so, we've stopped doing this recently. I do have some pride, after all.

And it also feels like we've stopped hanging out outside of school.

Sometimes, when the boys and girls in our class all go out together we still hang out, but I can feel that we're holding one other at arms length.

Tokiwa and I have been friends for a long time. We've known each other since elementary school, and are pretty close.

We have to constantly signal to everyone around us that we're not a couple. It's annoying, but neither Tokiwa nor I see each other as romantic interests, so there's nothing else for it. The only time we can really sync up, without any pretense, is when we are alone like this.

. . . Tokiwa, your shoulders are really something.

My shoulders and sides are both so beefy. It's such a problem.

What about giving up cycling?

Impossible, it's way too convenient. It's like I'm my own engine, so I can always trust that engine to run.

Seems fuel-efficient.

Not really. People don't usually realize this, but water is often more expensive than gasoline by volume. Well, unless you're talking about tap water, of course.

Is that so? Guess you do need to eat, after all.

I think about asking her why she continues to cycle but decide against it. There's no need to nitpick someone else's hobby, especially a healthy one like cycling.

So why are we going to the park together?

I want to try out fortune-telling.

On me? Why don't you do yourself?

I feel like I might trick myself into believing it if I do it on myself. You're usually pretty level-headed when it comes to this stuff.

Level-headed, huh? I just don't really believe in it.

That's important. Necessary, even.

Tokiwa stops her bike at the entrance of the park. I get off, and she lifts the bike over the rail meant to stop cyclists, pushing it along side her as she walks. She's not rude enough to ride around inside, but likely doesn't want to leave it laying around to get stolen.

She bought this bike after about half a year of saving up money from her part-time job. It's expensive, for a bike, costing about the same as a cheap scooter. I remember her complaining about only being given low-paying work intended for girls after she registered with a temp agency.

Tokiwa and I sit facing each other on a bench deep within the park, shaded by an awning. It's a popular spot for people to come and eat their lunch during the day, as it resembles a rest area with a table. But now, with the sun inching toward the horizon, there's nobody else in the park.

Holding the cheap instruction manual that came with the cards in one hand, Tokiwa splits the tarot deck into two piles and shoves one pile towards me.

Shuffle it. The person being read is supposed to cut the deck.

What about your pile?

Apparently, using all the cards is for the more hardcore enthusiasts. Beginners can just use these twenty-two cards, according to this manual.

I take the deck from her, shuffle it lazily, and push it back. Tokiwa takes the deck, the manual in her other hand, and begins to line the cards up on the table.

. . . So, why were you at the hospital, really?

Huh? My mom's in the hospital.

I try to say it as lightly as possible, but Tokiwa's expression darkens.

Is everything okay?

Who knows? She says she just collapsed from overwork, and the doctor agrees.

She collapsed? Where? Why?

Apparently she collapsed in front of her work. One of her coworkers called me. Mom just smiled, saying that she was about to go home when she collapsed, so at least she didn't miss any work.

I don't know what really happened.

My mom is still young. She had me when she was eighteen, so she's not even forty yet. I don't recall her feeling unwell or looking sickly lately. If she says she collapsed from overwork, then I guess that's what happened. But I also can't rule out the possibility that it's a disease so serious that she feels she needs to hide it from me.

. . . You're from a single-parent family, huh. Are you planning on going to college?

I don't know. Even if I said I wanted to go, it doesn't mean I'd be able to.

Is your mom overworking herself to pay for your tuition?

I wonder. We do receive child support, so money shouldn't be that tight.

Why did your parents split up?

I don't know.

Did they have a bad relationship?

. . . I don't think so. They don't seem to hold any ill will towards each other now . . . Actually, it's not that I don't know. I just don't remember.

When did they split?

Around when I was in first grade.

You should be able to remember it, if you were that old.

She's right, but despite it only being about ten years ago, my memories from that time are incredibly vague. By the time I realized it, my father was just gone. From then, my memories became clearer.

Honestly, I don't really care. It never bothers me.

With my mom in the hospital, I will be living alone in our apartment for the time being. I'm more worried about what I'm going to eat tomorrow than stuff that happened way in the past.

. . . You're making that angry face again, Iku. It's freaking me out me, so stop it.

I'm not doing it consciously. It's like a cat that forgot to put its tongue back in its mouth.

If it was that cute, no one would tell you to stop. They'd want you to keep doing it forever . . . Are you making that face because you're worried about your mom?

How should I know? I'm not aware I'm making a face.

Hmm.

She tilts her head in dissatisfaction before shifting her focus back to the tarot cards. It's not like I make the face just to scare people. My face just does that without me realizing it. It's even ruined some of my relationships, so if there's a way to stop it, I'd love to know.

The cards are laid out on the table in the shape of a cross. Next to it, a separate column of four cards are lined up vertically, with ten cards in total. Their arrangement is completely different from how Nanase does it in the classroom.

. . . Is this what Nanase does?

Well, this manual says this method has a high hit rate. What Nanase does is, um . . . probably the hexagram method. This is the devil's ten-card method.

The devil, really? Can't it be something a bit more cheerful?

Well then, shall we give this a go?

Ignoring my protest, Tokiwa swiftly spreads the cards out. Intricate gothic images unfold before us, persuasive and gimmicky. They include things like skulls and a man being executed, seeming to foretell some grim fate. The illustrations make me feel gloomy before we even begin.

Tokiwa is frowning, repeatedly comparing the card images to the manual and tilting her head.

. . . What's the hold up? Just get on with it.

I just can't make heads or tails of this.

What do you mean? Isn't the meaning written in that manual?

It is, but there's just too much going on . . . For example, this apparently represents the obstacles you're going to face.

At the center of the six cards arranged in a cross, there is one spot where two cards overlap, forming a smaller cross. The sideways card depicts a tower, looming tall out of the darkness.

It's the upright Tower. Collapse, accidents, disease, bankruptcy, dissolution, breaking up with friends. That's what it says.

. . . Well, that's on the mark. My mom's been hospitalized.

But that's an obstacle your mom's facing, not you.

Well, yeah, but . . .

I was just trying to play along, but it seems that Tokiwa hasn't really been buying into the fortune-telling from the start.

So, am I going to get sick or have an accident next?

But this represents obstacles, not future or final outcome.

. . . This is kind of complex.

Or it just doesn't make any sense.

Just show me the final outcome. Which one is it?

Tokiwa, looking somewhat annoyed, points to a card at the end, the top card of the four lined up vertically from her perspective. It bears the image of an angel holding a trumpet.

It's Judgment.

So I'm going to end up being an umpire or something?

Or a referee. Jumping in between two big burly boxers at the bell, that sort of thing.

That sounds painful.

Don't get into martial arts. Do something more unusual, like drunken boxing. And . . . um, the interpretation of Judgment is, um . . . Wait, how are you going to eat every day, with your mom gone?

I'll buy something at the convenience store.

You'll never become a respectable judge if you only eat that kind of stuff.

Can't help it, my mom is in the hospital.

Should I come over and cook something?

What?

Oh, here it is. Resurrection, rebirth, resolution.

Tokiwa tosses the manual to me. I want to ask her again about what she just said, but for now, I flip through the pages to find the section on Judgment. Tokiwa only mentioned the good interpretations, but there were also words like frustration, weakness, and wrong choices.

It's all very vague and covers a wide range.

. . . Looking at it, the image on the card pretty much says it all.

That's true, but it's vague. Or rather, it just doesn't make sense.

Isn't that what fortune-telling is all about?

Then how can Nanase always hit the mark?

It's experience.

Yes, experience. I thought that explanation would put an end to this line of questioning, but Tokiwa still looks unconvinced.

. . . What do you mean?

Once you're familiar with it, you can guess more accurately. Everyone is satisfied as long as the fortune-telling is mostly accurate.

Scooping up the tarot cards, I shuffle them back into the untouched half of deck. I pull out one card and place it face down.

Tokiwa, can you flip that over for me?

Sure thing.

The image on the card is The Lovers. Thankfully, very easy to interpret.

. . . Do you have a boyfriend right now?

No. I've never had one.

Didn't you go out with someone from our grade last year?

I remember hearing about a junior from the track and field club confessing his feelings to her. One of those pitiful little animals, dreaming of being pampered by a kind older-sister type, only to have his fantasy shattered by the harsh reality. I can't help but sympathize.

Oh, that. You won't believe what happened.

I'm listening.

So, we were supposed to go see a movie, right? It was a limited run at a single theater, and there was no other time we could go. I was really looking forward to it, but then he says, "It's raining, so why don't we skip the movie and go to my place?" What an idiot. What's rain got to do with it? What kind of excuse is that? He thought I was stupid.

. . . So you yelled at him, right?

When I asked him if he thought he was King Kamehameha, he shut up. Haven't heard from him since.

Don't be so harsh on the younger ones.

Tokiwa seems more interested in whether I thought her King Kamehameha comeback was funny than the fact that she screamed at her would-be boyfriend. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to date her.

If someone asked Tokiwa to go out with them, she would probably agree. She'd never cheat or anything, but whoever initiates is buying themselves a one-way ticket straight to Hell. Because Tokiwa doesn't agree out of any particular affection. She gives the green light to see how much the other party can entertain her.

If they cannot provide entertainment that satisfies Tokiwa, she ends things. To the kind of timid man who prefers older types, she's a bit too much to handle. Or rather, they're not good fit in the first place. She'd probably be better suited to the active gym-rat type, but she never seems to meet those.

Don't ask me weird stuff out of the blue.

It's the Lovers card. What else do you expect?

Lovers, huh? Almost sounds like rubbers. Kind of indecent.

. . . That would be a skin, not a rubber.

But then wouldn't the meaning of the card be lost?

She sidesteps my question and changes the subject. I click my tongue, annoyed at the implication that I was the one who brought up the dirty talk, but reluctantly follow her lead.

So, do you want a proper boyfriend right now?

What do you mean by proper?

Well, I mean . . . a proper one. There's no other way to put it.

I mean, I guess I want one, but not desperately or anything. Not just anyone.

Good enough. This card represents your current situation.

Wait, wait a minute. What's that supposed to mean?

As long as don't say that you don't want a boyfriend, I can spin it anyway I want.

But aren't there very few people who would say they don't want one at all?

I was prepared for you to say that you don't want one for the rest of your life, but thankfully you made it easy on me. The Lovers makes it simple to hit the mark.

What would you do if I said I don't want one for the rest of my life?

I could've interpreted that as something you say, but don't truly mean, or that you want it subconsciously but have other priorities right now, or that you're passionate about something else that's important enough to be called a lover. There's no limit to the ways I can spin it.

So, when you say it's easy to hit the mark, you mean it's an easy one to twist?

Basically, yes. It's obvious I'm spinning it because I'm only using one card, but if I had multiple cards, it'd be more ambiguous. Plus, with tarot, there's the convenient option of interpreting the inverted position.

If the card is upside down, the interpretation is reversed, too. Given the broad meanings of the original and the opposite, just about any interpretation can be justified.

I am genuinely impressed by how well the system works.

So, does this mean Nanase is just good at deceiving people?

If you put it negatively, yes. But, positively speaking, she's a good storyteller. Fortune-tellers are good at creating stories with their clients as the main characters, stories that the clients want to believe.

I tap the Lovers card with my finger.

In essence, tarot reading is about creating an improvised story using this card and you, Tokiwa.

That sounds like fraud. Then why do Nanase's come true?

Are you sure Nanase's fortune-telling really comes true? Maybe everyone just ignores the ones that miss. Or maybe they make it come true.

What do you mean?

It's simple. Just make a vague prediction. Like, something good will happen today. If anything good happens, they'll associate it with the prediction. If you add something like, your lucky color is green, it's even better. Even if nothing good happens, or if only bad things happen, they'll excuse it because they weren't wearing green.

What if someone only wore green clothes all the time?

Not many people would go that far. Even if you were told your lucky color, you wouldn't dress in it from head to toe, would you?

Fortune telling is fundamentally about the art of conversation. Nanase is good at linking the vague symbols on the cards with the worries and anxieties of the person she's reading for.

Moreover, the person being read for will willingly connects the dots.

The feature of more classical fortune-telling methods like Tarot, which are more elaborate than blood type or zodiac sign fortune-telling, is that they're more likely to hit the mark. They're elaborate, ostentatious, and above all, they seem authentic, which raises their hit rate.

This hit rate is not like the shot from a skilled sniper or a homing missile. It's more accurate to say that the target knowingly jumps into the line of fire.

The people say that Nanase's fortune-telling comes true are classmates that she knows well. If she were to read for a complete stranger, I think the results would be quite different.

So, if it comes true, it's because Nanase is amazing. If it doesn't, it's the subject's fault?

Exactly. It's easy money.

Iku, you seem to know a lot about this stuff, don't you?

I like trivia like this.

I am about to say that it's due to my dad's influence, but stop myself. I have regular opportunities to meet with my dad, by my Mom's suggestion. Although they never talk, neither of them seems to resent or despise the other. The opposite, really. There's a sense of mutual respect and consideration.

Tokiwa tilts her head questioningly. I casually cut the tarot deck and spread out the cards to examine the images. I feel like this is my first time closely observing a real deck. The designs on the tarot cards are intricate, and somehow mysterious. Even just visually, I think they are more persuasive to a potential mark than any of the crudely made, cheap alternatives. Above all, the person being read can interpret them however they want. This makes it easier for the fortune teller to lure the mark into complicity.

. . . How much did these cards cost?

Two thousand five hundred yen. What a waste of money. Well, I am glad I invited you. It would've really embarrassed myself with these things.

Did you want to become a fortune teller, Tokiwa?

No, I just wanted to find out if Nanase was amazing or if the cards were.

Nanase is definitely the amazing one. She can make everyone believe whatever she wants them to.

I didn't peg her as such a liar.

It's not a lie for her, personally. I think she genuinely puts a lot of thought and care into it.

At the very least, I don't think Nanase is the type to deceive others for her own amusement. If she were, she would have been found out immediately. She puts all this effort into her readings and asks nothing in return. That's what makes her readings so accurate.

If she charged per reading or manipulated the readings for her own benefit, it would probably backfire immediately.

. . . Well, Nanase's always had a bit of a psychic vibe, even way back when.

Not sure I'm remembering this right, but were you and Nanase in the same class in middle school, Tokiwa?

We were together from the second year. She was the type to sit in the corner of the classroom all day, reading these occult-looking books by herself.

Did it seem like she was being bullied?

I don't think she was bullied, per se. It was more like everyone was openly ignoring her. She always faded into the background, it was hard to notice her at all. It's like how in the wild, the weak animals camouflage themselves. That sort of vibe.

And now she's so popular.

Yeah, it's weird how she changed. It bothered me so much that I ended up throwing away twenty-five hundred yen.

. . . So you don't like that Nanase is popular?

That's not it.

If she's able to make friends with everyone and be popular, then it's a good thing for Nanase, isn't it?

I understand that, but something about it feels off. It seems unhealthy, or maybe unwholesome, somehow.

. . . I guess you would think that. I know it's not the type of thing you'd ever do.

Even putting that aside, this is the cheapest version and it cost me 2,500 yen, but Nanase's deck cost 10,000! The most expensive one costs over a 100,000. I thought that was ridiculous, but apparently there are even more expensive ones that they keep in the back of the store.

. . . What's the difference in the decks? Are they carved out of ivory or platinum or something?

I don't know, but they didn't look much different.

After straightening out the tarot deck, I hand it back to Tokiwa. She makes a conflicted face, as if she doesn't know what to do with it.

So, it's Nanase's talent that makes the readings accurate, right?

Probably. Frankly, I think she could do the same with a deck of playing cards or Hanafuda. I don't know if accurate is the right word, though.

Then why would Nanase buy a 10,000 yen deck?

The cheapest one would suffice. She could even make her own. The results would probably have been the same. She might have had to bluff a bit at first with that sort of deck, but once she got some positive momentum going, it wouldn't matter how much she cut costs.

But Nanase doesn't do that.

. . . She probably feels compelled to spend at least that much.

You think so, too?

Ring any bells?

Just a hunch . . . I mean, I've seen it up close.

I understand what Tokiwa means. Every time this comes up, I get this indescribable sense of guilt, though I try desperately to hide it. No matter how many times I turn it over in my head, the conclusion I always come to is that staying silent is the best course of action.

I know that not telling the truth is just a passive form of lying.

I am closer to Tokiwa's problems than she realizes. Close enough that I might be able to do something. But I keep my mouth shut and hide the truth.

Iku, do you think . . .

Tokiwa interrupts my brooding with a question.

. . . Should I tell Nanase to stop doing this at some appropriate point?

What do you mean by appropriate point?

I don't know.

She's not troubling anyone. Quite the opposite. She's making people happy, and she seems to enjoy the attention. If there's an appropriate point, it would be now. If there's a time to quit, it's right now.

. . . But if she stops, she might go back camouflaging herself in the corner of the classroom. If she's having fun reading tarot with her 10,000 deck, you don't have real a reason to stop her.

I know, but it still makes me anxious . . . seeing what happened to my mom.

Tokiwa's mother.

She'd fallen deeply into a new religion, buying up every nonsensical pot, trinket, and altar she could get her hands on. Tokiwa's family must be on the brink of collapse by now. I don't want to hear about it.

Nanase had finally broken free from her solitary, friendless high school experience. Ten thousand yen may seem absurd to Tokiwa and I, but for Nanase, it may be a cheap investment. Whether it's a 100,000 yen or a 1,000,000 yen, I believe it's not for others to judge based on their own standards.

After all, Nanase is not my relative, or my family, or anything like that.

The falling darkness makes the park clock hard to make out. It's almost seven o'clock now.

. . . Shall we head home?

Yeah, it's about time.

What are you gonna do for dinner?

I'm thinking of grabbing some soba from the stand-up soba bar on the way home.

I could come over and cook for you, you know.

My snappy response dies in my throat when I see the serious look on Tokiwa's face. It doesn't sound like a joke, and I stop in my tracks, taken aback. She told that one earlier. It wasn't as funny the second time around.

. . . No, thanks. What's gotten into you all of a sudden?

What's with the awkward pause?

Well, it's just that you suddenly offered to do something nice for me.

I'm always nice, aren't I?

Well, yes, but . . . Can you even cook, Tokiwa?

As long as I have the ingredients and fire.

Fire?

Thinking about it, Tokiwa often goes camping in the mountains with her father, so cooking would be no big deal for her. Rather than a cute, painstakingly prepared dish offered by most girls, it would undoubtedly be a hearty meal. It suits her image perfectly.

If you want, I can go home, get my tools, and come back.

You don't have to go through all that trouble.

What, you don't trust my cooking skills? Well, skills might be over selling it, but . . .

I'm saying that I'm good with pasta or standing-bar soba.

I said I want to cook, so let me cook, idiot.

Isn't calling me an idiot a bit harsh?

Show more of your virgin-like ulterior motives, why don't you?

Wait, is it okay for me to show that? Like, oh and what will you feed me after dinner?

Yes, that's exactly the kind of shallow dirty joke a virgin would make.

I don't need that.

What do you mean, you don't need it?

No, I'm sorry. I appreciate it, but I have a lot to do today, like tidying up my mom's stuff. I just don't have time to relax and eat at home.

Tokiwa falls silent for a moment, her expression one of discontent, as though she has accepted it but isn't happy about it.

. . . Well, can't be helped, I guess.

What is it that you want to feed me, anyway?

You don't have to act so annoyed about it. I'm just worried about you.

. . . Sorry.

I didn't have to reject her so strongly, but it's all so sudden that I feel like I need to make some distance between us.

Tokiwa also looks down, falling silent. A strange feeling hangs in the air between us.

Okay then, next time I'll prepare something and bring it over. When's a good time for you?

When's a good time? Anytime is fine, but . . . You're acting a little strange, Tokiwa.

What do you mean?

You're so eager, like you'd even make me a lunch box if I asked for one tomorrow.

I wouldn't mind doing that.

That's unsettling.

What exactly is the problem?

I might misunderstand if you say stuff like that, you know. I'm a virgin, after all.

. . . What kind of misunderstanding, for example?

I mean, well . . .

Tokiwa backs me into a corner, unfazed by my confusion. There are too many holes in her logic, like she's inviting a counterpunch. It feel like any punch I throw would land, but am unsure whether it's okay take a swing.

We stare at one another in silence, the park now completely dark around us.

It's my move, but I can't do anything.

. . . Stop joking around like that.

I dodge once more, keeping my distance. Unable to land a punch on an opponent full of openings, I make a clumsy retreat. Her sudden attack caught me off guard, and it has made me overly cautious.

Tokiwa's rush ends with a sigh.

. . . I understand. I'm going home then.

Ah, okay . . . Take care.

If I get attacked on my way home, it's all your fault, Iku.

Why is it my fault?

I would love to see the criminal stupid enough to attack Tokiwa. I keep that thought to myself, though.

Tokiwa still seems like she has something to say, but she swallows her words with a shake of her head. The silence she leaves behind seems to be blaming me for everything. She leaves the park, carrying her bicycle. As she is leaving, she glances back at me and waves her hand lightly before starting to pedal.

I don't know whether or not she saw me waving back at her.

I leave the park, feeling as if I had been led astray by a mischievous spirit. It's already dark, and Tokiwa has already peddled out of sight.