Inaba is the epitome of ruralty. In a country like Japan, towns of its size and location are often overshadowed by the fast-paced, energetic, ever-changing cities like Tokyo and Shibuya. However, that isn't to say that such a place is of no importance. In fact, it would be an ignorant lie to say that nothing interesting ever happens in Inaba. After all, people are just people no matter where they live; and people are known to be incredible storytellers, which more often than not, tell stories based on their own lives.
This is not one of those kinds of stories, though.
This is a story that has been swept under the rug, misplaced and forgotten by a good many of the people involved in it. This is due largely in part to the fact that it takes place in such a small town. A town with no room for scandal, thank you very much. And certainly not scandal centered around its beloved Yasogami High School. A wood-and-stone shrine to the Gods of the developed West, who talk of 'education' and 'equal opportunities', it is home to a student body nearing one hundred and fifty this year and a faculty count that barely scrapes its way into the double digits.
Chie Satonaka is excited for the beginning of her final year of High School. It is a Saturday, two days before the school doors would open up once more, but today she is jogging along the familiar stony road which, branching off at one point to meet the primary and middle school, and at another further along to meet the high school, was essentially Inaba's concept of a school district. Her hair is tan and cropped short, barely reaching the stiff collar of her light green sweater, but it fluxes and flows in the slight breeze, so that it seemed longer. At the back of her mind she is thinking, "Maybe I should have worn longer pants." Today was unnaturally chilly for this time of year but in her determination to make it to where she was going, she endured it. Still, it is strange how a young woman could leave the house one morning, and, knowing how cold it is still decide to wear a miniskirt or, a pair of short-shorts, as is the case with Chie. Nonetheless we will merely accept the strangeness of young girls and move on.
To her right, there is a long row of nondescript trees. They were trees that bore no fruit and produced few blossoms, but they were old and reverent, many having existed since before Chie and her classmates were in diapers. The amount of students they have seen walking, running, cycling by would be impossible for any human to comprehend. To her left and down a concrete slope, is the Inaba river; murky, unswollen like it is supposed to be at this time of year. By the time when jobs would let out, many of the older men from the village would haunt the place, maybe fish a little, but talk a lot and loudly, so that one had no trouble eavesdropping from the road overhead. The funny thing about these large gatherings of middle-aged men, though, is the over-abundance of talking comparing to the amount of actual listening involved. And men who speak of themselves, and feel they are being listened to - admired, even - well, they are prone to making an ass of themself at the nearest opportunity. Needless to say, Chie knew better than to take this way back home in the afternoons.
She stops at the foot of the road along the hill which lead to the school, still shut off - until tomorrow - by the main gate. Wrapping her hands around the bars, she can see the school clearly, and, it looked just the same as she had left it months ago, before the summer break. But sitting there, nestled against a small mountain, quietly watching, and waiting, the school took on a different personality it seemed. Even with her large and brown, curious eyes, Chie saw no students hurrying to their homerooms. No teachers parking their cars in the lot she could almost see, at the back, the sound of tires on gravel heralding their arrivals. No, the place had fallen bare and lonely over the past few months, and the sight of and understanding of the change was enough to make the girl feel a touch of guilt.
Now, you might be wondering why a teenage girl, on her last day of the summer vacation before her senior year of High School would show up at the front gate of her school, just to look and feel sad. Well, there comes a certain dissatisfaction with days off of school, especially as we are nearing the end of our educational career, a dissatisfaction so common I think that I should not need to describe it. We would think about how stressful our days were, yes, as humans we tend to think about the negative things in life above all else, but we realize that the stress was a security against boredom. We find ourselves sitting and playing with our fingers toward the end of the summer break, not bothering to call our friends because we knew they were doing the exact same thing. This was especially true in the way things were in a town like Inaba, a town which, for all suits and purposes, provided jack shit in the way of entertaining teenagers. Chie was yearning again for the hammer of knowledge, and her thighs hungered for the drama of the High School pageant like they used to.
She takes her cellphone from out of her jacket's pocket, and examines the keychain attached to it - the small figurine of a famous white cartoon cat somebody had bought for her last year. There is something to be said about how seemingly worthless objects can be made to stir up vivid memories in a person, but perhaps not have a similar affect on anybody else in the entire world. While she held it between two fingers, and stroked it like some gold piece, memories began to flood back to her. Memories of him, of the Midnight Channel, of the old gang. In her mind's eye she could see herself, Yousuke, Yukiko, Kanji, Teddie, Rise, Naoto, still together and smiling about God knows what - in those days, they smiled and laughed about practically everything. She had not set aside much time for reminiscing lately, so here she was now and regretting it; feeling like she could just fall to her knees and cry right then and there under the weight of those disrespected memories.
Now, It might interest you to know that, at that exact moment, miles away at the Junes in town, a store clerk is polishing and rearranging a set of the very same cat keychains, being sold at a price of five yen each. Standing back to appraise his work for a second, he assumes his post behind the front desk again, trying his hardest to smile although anybody could tell by his posture that he sincerely did not enjoy being at work on a Saturday.
The uniform protocol of the gift shop called for neat and formal, so that's the way he was dressed, in a clean, white buttoned up short-sleeved polo shirt and khakis. His hair is orange and uncombed, as though he took a shower that morning and all he did was run his fingers through it. He wears headphones around his neck which are attached to an Ipod in his pants pocket which he had forgotten to recharge the night before.
Yosuke Hanamura sighs, drumming his fingers against the countertop to a rhythm he was following in his head, but it was doubtful whether anybody else would be able to catch unto it. Not that there was anybody else in the modest gift shop located in a sprawling, modern market-mall on a Saturday morning. Because let's face it, that would be a weird time to be out and about restocking your supply of temporary tattoos and reindeer's antlers hood ornaments. It was not a fun job but, hey, it paid, and it had kept him occupied all summer.
He checks the time on his phone - ten twenty-four. His shift had only begun so he had better get comfortable. Faster than he could bring out his Ipad, though, he hears the ringing of the door being opened and a girl enters the shop, heading toward the counter.
"Good morning, miss Amagi?" Yosuke says to the girl with a smirk, and sets the tablet down. He fiddles with the lock on the partition which separated the space behind the counter from the main room for a while, but, with his efforts to unlock it fruitless, he just ducks underneath it, and greets the girl with a kiss on the lips.
"Yes, it is a perfect morning, isn't it? A nice break from all the heat we've been having." She says in agreement, holding his hands tenderly but awkwardly; still a virgin to the sensation of touch.
The easiest way by which you could describe Yukiko is to say she is beautiful. Her straight, black hair reaches past her shoulders, almost to her mid-back and held perfectly in place by only a red hairband which she was seldom ever seen without. Her facial features were longer than Chie's but elegantly so, and her skin was paler too, which adequately accented her name, meaning, "snow child". Everything down to her quietness and desire to please others seemed to represent beauty and the feminine element often - no, indubitably - ascribed to the beautiful things of this world.
She follows Yosuke behind the counter, and he sits again, but she remains standing somewhere between the penholders and the boxes of eraser tops. They were the various sundry things which lined the countertop that nobody really bought anyway.
"So, how'd you sleep last night?" Yukiko asks, girating one of the pens between two fingers idlely.
"After you dozed off, I kind of hit the hay too. Played a little TF2 first." He laughs under his breath, recalling the experience. "I swear, all of the noobs are on at night. Must be easier on their connections."
"It seemed like something was bothering you, on Facebook, though. That status you had about, uhh, wanting to reconnect with old friends. Missing the old days." She says, trying to appraise whether there were any shifts in his mood, thinking that he already knew what she was going to say. He seemed unfazed, so she continues. "If something is bothering you, whatever it is, we can talk about it."
Yosuke shakes his head, smiling the way men do to hide their irritation. "Nah, it's nothing." He says, licking his lips and deliberately turning his attention to the Ipad screen again.
Yukiko averts her eyes, feeling hurt by his lack of confidence in her. Like a good woman, though, she let it be left at that and allowed him his privacy. Just for the time being, of course.
She knew Yosuke was not the most open person. And, you should pay in mind that it is one thing to be outgoing, and another thing entirely to be open with people. Sure, Yosuke was the kind of person that was talkative and easy enough to get along with. But when it came to his emotions or his worries and concerns, he kept those things to himself, mostly. I could go on to say that might be due to the fact that he grew up in the city, and so, that selfish, individualistic way of thinking and living was still imprinted onto his heart. But, I can't say I know Yosuke that well, considering I have never even met him before.
"We're going to be seniors on Monday. Isn't that something?" Yukiko says, to change the subject, smiling the way women do to relax a tense situation.
Yosuke nods. "It's hard to believe we made it to where we are now, huh? Just the other day I was the new kid fresh in from the big city, and here I am, almost two years later. About to graduate."
Yukiko is about to say something but refrains. If Yosuke's back wasn't turned, he might have seen her even bite her lip, try as she might to keep her thoughts to herself.
After a while, she lost her ability to do so any more.
"Have you talked to Chie lately? Seen her around?"
Yosuke does not turn to look at her when he answers, or even pause to think about it, it seemed. As though he already had in mind what he would say. "Yeah. She's getting kind of fat, I think."