The Truth Is…
I'll always love you, Arata.
When Arata lost to Harada-Sensei during the Master Qualifier Match three years ago, I told him that I'm willing to let go of that special card with the purpose of retaking it at all cost. That was true. Letting go of a card was easy, if things go well, you can retake it within an hour at most. There are plenty of chances to take it back and claim it, but why did I think that applies to other things as well?
Arata loved me. Arata was in love with me.
When he said that, he was calm and matter-of-factly, like it was it was the most common thing in the world. His eyes were sincere and honest and he didn't stutter at all. He just dropped the word out there with a cool smile. My heart skipped and I couldn't say anything back. Everyone else vanished from my sight and ears, I forgot about Kana-chan and Hanano-san, everyone around me disappeared from my word. There was only Arata. Arata, my dearest childhood friend, the boy who let me know what real passion is. Arata, the guy in glasses whose smile is always calm and kind. Arata, my karuta god. Arata. Arata. Arata.
He was going to college in Tokyo, he said. In a year, we'd be able to be in the same city, just like before. He said, let's play karuta together. Let's spend the rest of our lives together.
He then blushed furiously and exited, leaving me with my heart pounding restlessly and face beet-red.
What did he say, again?
"I'm in love with you, Chihaya."
"I'm in love with you, Chihaya."
"I'm in love with you, Chihaya."
"I'm in love with you, Chihaya."
Arata was in love with me.
How was I supposed to feel?
From then, every mention of Arata made my heart race. I was nervous beyond belief. More than my first official tournament. More than the time I spoke in front of other students in hakama to promote our club. More than the time Taichi and I came to Fukui to see him for the first time in years. More than the time I run after Arata in a bicycle and rolled down the slope and declared how much I missed him. Every moment he comes to my mind, more than before. I dream of him. His calm smile, his relaxed stance and swift crosses. I dream of his words, his voice, his declaration.
I couldn't get him out of my system.
Even when Taichi said the same thing.
"I'm in love with you, Chihaya."
Arata was in my mind.
Arata is always in my mind.
Arata will always be in my mind.
The boy in muddy rain coat, delivering newspapers to our doorstep. The boy in tattered clothes, quietly eating away from everyone else in class. The boy who memorized the Hundred Poems in his first try. The boy who concentrated on karuta like it was the most important thing in the world. His intense eyes and bended figure. His fast hand, his strong sweeps. His arrogant but gentle leadership during that team competition. The boy in blue jacket, running past me like the wind. The tortured Arata, kicking away karuta cards. The desperate Arata, calling out our names on a bicycle. The Arata in a hakama.
Arata is always in my mind.
So much I couldn't even see the boy in front of me, desperately working hard to gain my attention. The boy who gave his all in a sport he obviously didn't care for, just so I'll look his way. I always see Arata. Why did I never see Taichi?
I knew the answer. I knew it when I was twelve years old, learning how to play karuta for the first time. I knew it when he told me what dreams are. I knew it when he gave me that special card. I knew it when we played together. I knew it when we promised to always play karuta. I knew it when I desperately tried to get stronger. I knew it on my first year of high school, forming the Karuta Club. I knew it when I made Class A. I knew it when I was playing against Shinobu-chan. I knew it when I was watching him play. I knew it. I knew it.
I always knew it.
Why didn't I say it?
Why did I let you go?
Why am I so far from you?
Why, Arata?