Volume 1 - CH 4.2

It was summer, but I wasn’t feeling better. Shimizu was worried about me, but I had no way of explaining my strange illness.

Radiation leaked from the Fukushima Nuclear Power plant, and had become a nationwide issue. Everyday, the news talked of farmers committing suicide due to their ruined crops, children being bullied at evacuation sites, and so on. “Reputational damage” became a popular word, every Fukushima product became radioactive despite having a proper radiation certificate, as a whole, Fukushima’s economy plummeted. Facts and hoax mixed, nothing was true, nothing was false.

I recommenced the flower picking. However, this time, the blank space was simply too big, too many lives lost, too many futures ruined. No matter how many flowers I had, it was never enough.

Desperate, I ran away to the game world. It was an online game that I became addicted to. In the game, enemies dropped “flowers” when defeated. I collected those endlessly.

[TN: Bro truly lived in an online age.]

Pow, pok, pok, bong, pow, pok, pok…it was an endless rhythmic monotonous task. Strangely enough, the pain subsided.

I discovered that the flower didn’t even have to be real, the conceptual one was enough.

Meanwhile, Yuzuki had been on edge since the earthquake.

We began to have midnight strolls. She would slip out of her home, and I would be there. The night was quiet and peaceful. The playground equipment in the park looked like sleeping animals. In reality, though, radiation was everywhere, slowly choking the Prefecture. Radiation, It was a curious thing, no shape, no smell, formless, yet distorting the everyday we have had. It was aggravating.

One day, she was fuming during the entire stroll.

A post of a certain celebrity had stirred up a commotion. 

It was something along the lines of “People who’re still in Fukushima are lazy. Get out of there now. Aren’t you aware of the radiation? If you want to get thyroid cancer, don’t drag your family into it.”

“He’s a complete dumbass who can’t empathize with anyone,” she cussed, “We all know the consequences.  Do you really think everyone has the money to move? From the first place, on what basis are you saying this? Safely living somewhere far off, complaining about things. Do you even know what difficulties we have to face?! Do you have an empathy?!”

The next thing I saw was Yuzuki in tears. She cried a lot these days. Her recent fights with Ranko-san made her emotions rampart.

I looked up to the sky. It was a starry night with a bright moon. 

I took a breath. “Well, it can’t be helped. Empathy is a tricky thing. Not everyone has it, me neither, I think.”

“At least you don’t hurt someone with it.”

We sat down by the Abukuma River. I wondered if there would be fireworks this year.

“I wonder if it’s all right for me to be playing piano,” she said, sounding worried, “Piano can’t fill bellies, can’t save lives, can’t improve anyone’s welfare. No matter how good I get, I can’t save anyone…”

In a situation like this, what should I say? Even if I say her piano can save someone, would she believe me? 

In the end, I had only answered vaguely. “Maybe there is, somewhere.”

“I hope so…”

Recently, her popularity has increased to the point where normal people misunderstood her show for a live concert. This change in audience had sowed doubt, it seemed.

A heavy silence fell. The murmur of the river sounded strangely desolate.

“What if I suddenly disappear, what will you do, Yakumo-kun?”

“Huh–?”

I stared at her questioningly. Seeing that I wouldn’t answer, she let on.

“Mom told me to study abroad in Italy next year.”

“That’s why you’re fighting…”

She nodded slowly. “What do you think,” she asked quietly.

“You should go.”

That wasn’t the answer she expected, it appeared, for she blinked in surprise.

“Why?”

“No one knows what the radiation will do. If you could afford to go, then go.”

“Don’t say the same thing to my mom…” she said shakily, before jumping into the river. With a splash, she disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

I stared dazedly.

She immediately emerged from the water. Her long hair was wet and jet black. 

My heart was thumping with anxiety. After all, I, too, was afraid of radiation. The Abukuma River was as good as a poisoned river. No matter how beautiful the scenery was, it was imprinted on my subconscious as radioactive.

“Radiation can eat shit.” Her eyes gleamed. “I was born here. I grew up drinking this water, eating the food of this land. I won’t leave here so easily! How will I tell everyone to stay if I was the one who ran away! I won’t abandon Fukushima!”

[TN: For context, people of the 1990s generation are quite loyal to their native Prefecture]

Her eyes now glistered tears. Her passion for homeland was something I couldn’t understand, even until now. It was an emotion I totally lacked. I had never thought of Fukushima as my hometown nor have any love for it.

It was probably my fault, not the Prefecture.

“Nonchalance” and “easy going” were, as a matter of fact, different. 

Yuzuki was easy going but never nonchalant. Me, however, was not easy going, but rather nonchalant. There was nothing grounding my soul, not school, not family, not hometown.

I remained here only because I had nowhere else to go. Maybe not so different from a hair stuck in a drain, just drowning, writing, tangling, pulled by the video of the pipe beyond, but couldn’t go anywhere.

[TN: Never thought any human being would use hair in a drain as a metaphor]

It meant that somewhere in our life, we were given something important by Fukushima. Yuzuki noticed and appreciated it, while I didn’t even notice.

Realizing this, I felt… ashamed.

As if to excuse myself, “Yuzuki, you’re not running. You’re going to study in Italy. You’ll learn from a better teacher, play more piano, and then you’ll come back and tell your stories through your piano. That’s why you’re going.”

She was silent again. And then, with a voice that sounded like a bubble rising from the depths of the water, she croaked, “…And you?”

“Me?”

“You can’t do it without me. You’re like a goldfish from a festival. If I’m not here, you’ll starve to death in your apartment again.”

I wondered if she had enough care for me to remain in Fukushima if I say I can’t live without her.

Although I never deserved to hold her back. My weightless, frivolous soul could never hold her passionate drive back. The earth held the moon in place because of its weight, but what weight do I have to hold Yuzuki back?

“I’m not the same kid as before. I’ll be fine”

She turned away from me, biting her lip. Wading to the shore, she wiped her tears with her wrist and pulled off water.

“Got it. Farewell.”

Slowly, she walked past me and to the darkness beyond…

Unable to resist, I called out to her, perhaps for the last time.

“Yuzuki—” She stopped. I was already at a loss for words. “Take care…”

She looked back at me for a moment and then started walking unsteadily again. Her white figure was lost in the dark, and I, too, set off.

Taking my last glance at her wet footprints over the road, I took the opposite way home.

５

In November, her new CD was released. The jacket photo enraged her to no bounds.

It was the picture of that summer night when she dove into the Abukuma River and cried. The lighting and composition was beautifully edited. She was glowing faintly, white like the moon, the river was also as clear as a mirror, reflecting the stars. 

Although it was undeniable that her raw emotions were masterfully portrayed.

The CD title was “SADNESS”, with the subheader “Prayer for a devastated homeland.”

It was sold like hotcakes. On top of the quality performance, the fact that Yuzuki was from Fukushima, the disaster area, became sensational. 

With every element aligning, it was obvious who the culprit was, Takashi Hojo.

Yuzuki found a time when he was bound to stay at Igarashi House for a few hours and immediately pressed him. 

“It was a coincidence,” excused Hojo, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a stroll. When I saw Yuzuki-chan in the river, I couldn’t resist a picture. Sutter slipped, you could say.”

“And on whose permission you put the picture on the CD!!”

“On mine” Ranko-san entered the scene. “It’s a chance that we’d be foolish not to grab it. Do you know that the cover had just made our international debut?”

Yuzuki shook her head with utter incredulity.

“You witch—!!”

Without grabbing an umbrella, she stormed away. The destination was my apartment. Since the cold war we have had since that summer night, that was the first time that she came for me.

At that point, I knew immediately that something had upset her terribly.

Not sure what to do, I passed her a towel.

She complained between sobs, “This one won’t absorb water!”

I passed her another one. 

She took a shower and changed into my jersey. During the procession, she was sobbing the whole time, apologizing to practically everyone. To the casualties of the tsunami, to the pianists for casting shame upon the industry, sorry to everyone for the publicity stunt.

“I wasn’t even here when the earthquake happened… I wasn’t affected by it in the slightest… And that CD made me look like I’ve suffered the most… That’s not fair…! Countless had lost their lives and families… and I’m reaping profit from them!!”

“What do I do, Yakumo-kun?” she repeated.

Her tears were infectious, soon, I was also sobbing.

Behind her back, I secretly ran through the reviews. No matter how good the product is, there’d always be people who hated it. That was what I feared, what if Yuzuki saw those reviews?

Notwithstanding, the reviews of “SADNESS” were surprisingly positive.

Hoping that it would be any consolation, I showed her some of them, only for her to weep harder.

At my wit’s end, I pulled out Tanaka Kiyoko-sensei’s CD from the shelf. A beautiful piano started playing…

“Waaaahh! …Kiyoko-sensei!! What should I do… Kiyoko-sensei!!”

No matter what I did, she only cried harder.

On the side note, Tanaka Kiyoko and Yuzuki, of course, had no teacher-disciple relationship. Tanaka Kiyoko passed away on February 26, 1996. As if in irony, Yuzuki was born on March 3 of the following year. Even so, through the sounds of her recorded piano music, Yuzuki had been given so much respect and love, so much that she called her “Sensei”–-

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Their relationship was nothing but poetric.

Eventually, the piano lured the tears-weary Yuzuki to sleep. 

Her tears, while sorrowful, were pure and earnest, just like Tanaka Kiyoko’s piano.