Imitating Iruma's style (or rather that of the English translation) is quite daunting. Maybe I need a philosophy degree after all?

Chapter 2: Next Stop

Shimamura.

Her name was Shimamura. A woman from the train station that I had no connection to. One could say that we were perfect strangers. That's how it had been for all those months I had looked at her each morning; it's what I thought would continue to be our distance until either of us stopped riding that train. It's how I treated each person that I saw at every step of my commute. But if I recognized her, if her presence was something I had been aware of, then would it not be obvious that it wasn't the same?

I was lying on top of my rigid bed in my small bedroom and stared at the white ceiling. One arm draped over my flushed forehead, I kept contemplating what had transpired today. What we had done. No wait, what had we done? It wasn't like that. It wasn't. We just went to get some food on the way home. It was her suggestion and I had agreed on some whim.

Trying to do something that was so out of my experience seemed daunting, it had kept me uneasy during my time at work and so I was repeatedly making minor mistakes that got me some negative attention from my co-workers. We weren't on any particularly good terms, not at all, but I was known for being an efficient and reliable worker. I think. Nobody had ever praised me in the years I worked at this company, but I was not fired, so that had to mean something.

And yet I had not spared anyone around me much thought during the entire day. All I could do was type away with a dazed expression while thinking of dinner. I could not remember the last time I honestly thought about food as anything other than a means to an end. The body was like a machine and food was fuel. That's how I always saw it.

The weird thing is that I could not remember what the food even tasted like after all that time it had been on my mind. Probably because the dinner was never what my mind got stuck on. My hands moved as they should, my mouth chewed as it was designed to, but my eyes were stuck, seriously glued just ahead of me. Towards the woman that had invited me. Shimamura.

The make-up on my face was peeling off and I certainly got some on my sleeve, but I couldn't care less. When was the last time I had put on make-up? The job interview? That seemed likely. I had never bothered with it during my school days. There was nothing about it that appealed to my empty mind back then. My appearance was unimportant to get by and I also had nobody to dress up for to begin with. I still didn't. But…

I grabbed some tissues to wipe off the light layer of sweat dissolved make-up. Holding the proof of my actions above my face against the small light of the hanging lamp made it oddly poignant.

I really did apply it at the last minute. It was awkward when I ran to the bathroom at work and pulled out the small sealed box of cosmetics. It was in my bag since the day of the interview. Seems I hadn't put it on after all. Surprisingly it seemed to be still fine despite the years of resting inside my work bag. I had hastily pulled out my phone and searched up tutorials for applying make-up on the internet. It was convenient to have these boons of technology, but copying the gaudy women in those videos was easier said than done.

Did it look fine? Shimamura had not made any comments at least, but was she the type to say something even if it did look terrible? I just didn't know her well enough to tell. When I came home I had glanced at the mirror only once and noticed how some of it had peeled off, but I suppose that was due to me riding my bike back to the apartment. It did not feel like I was sweating much, but my head sure was hot the entire time.

Putting on make-up, adjusting my clothes or straightening my hair, those were all actions I associated with meeting someone important. It was what I would do if I went to a business dinner with a client or my boss, which had actually never happened yet. Maybe that in itself was odd already. Why was it that I never got called up for such occasions? In truth I was thankful I didn't of course. The arduous effort of enduring these meetings and making small-talk would have been seriously too much.

Then why did I not feel that way about eating with Shimamura? She was around my age, that much was obvious. That may have been reason enough to feel less pressure from her. It made sense, but it felt like I was avoiding something if I accepted that conclusion lightly. It had not been an unpleasant experience and that's all I could really say for certain.

She had smiled my way a couple of times while eating the food with visible joy. Whatever it was, she must have really liked it. We had not exchanged many words at all during that meal, I think. Even for me who could only do the bare minimum, it was a lamentable display of lacking social skills. There was not one topic I could come up with while I just slurped up my noodles. That's why the conversational approach was all on Shimamura's court.

What had we talked about? Much like the taste of the food, I failed to remember even a single word. I had to work on that. I really wanted to.

"What's going on with me?"

I had asked her to go eat out with me again. I had somehow managed to do it. Not that I had actually woken up with any intention to do so, it just happened. While we brushed shoulders on that train the mood just seemed right and I felt compelled to…

"What's wrong with me?"

Those questions seemed to be piling up recently. But it was important for my continued existence in this large world to understand myself I felt. For example, why would I make a claim about some discount from a restaurant I hadn't visited in several years?

It was not that distant a memory. More vibrant than most in my dull life. During high-school I had gotten it into my head that I needed to get a part-time job. I didn't need the money from it, as I had no hobbies to speak of, but I got one anyway. If I had to pinpoint my logic back then, it was that if I had to kill time I might as well make money while doing so. It beat staring at my ceiling all day while waiting for the clock to tick away time endlessly.

Unfortunately I had picked quite the weird place. A Taiwanese restaurant, perhaps one could call it a chain even if they weren't officially part of one. From what I had figured out back then, all Taiwanese places in our town and beyond were somehow connected, like a big spider web. And those spiders moved from each part of the web to the next to help wrap up prey for each other. Their menus for example were all the same, despite the fact that most of the items were not even available at our restaurant. I had never seen the chef make even a fraction of the meals that were advertised.

Then there was the constant shift of workers to and fro, immigrants who spoke broken Japanese. I was the odd one out, as usual. In more ways than one to my chagrin, as I was forced to wear a Chinese dress by the boss lady. Her only reasoning for making me alone do it was that I was young. It still made no sense to me so many years later, even after I grew as old as many of the women working there back then. It was just unbelievably embarrassing to wear that thing. The slit always showed off too much of my legs and I could not stand it.

Yet when Shimamura brought up the waitress from the Chinese place we went to on our first dinner, I could not help but remember my old work place. They really were too similar after all.

So, a discount? How could I really claim that I could get that? My old boss was stingy on the best of days and I hadn't even seen her in years. Would I just march into the restaurant and demand one? This was a disaster waiting to happen. No matter how much I chided the me from this morning, there would be no taking back my words. Most of all, because I didn't have Shimamura's number.

"What is wrong with me?"

I repeated yet again with a sigh as I washed my face in front of the bathroom mirror.

Such spontaneous ideas were never my strong point. I just felt like I… needed to impress Shimamura. Was that it? Did I care that much to be acknowledged by a stranger? She said she liked Chinese food. She told me that for a reason, right? It was her fault that I found myself in this situation.

Tomorrow at noon. Lunch at my old work place. Even if I had her number, even if I could swallow my pride to cancel this mistake, I did not even have enough time. Finding some place that offered discount coupons would have been an almost graceful solution to fix this problem, but not in less than a day. Not when I needed time to prepare myself mentally. My mind was so messy. It was late, but I wasn't tired at all… just fuzzy.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained - that was a saying I had read somewhere once. What did I stand to gain from impressing Shimamura? What did I want from this woman I did not know? Getting her name, eating dinner and forcing myself to make conversation with her, those were my investments. Where was the pay-off? What interest could I garner from such interactions? I really would have liked to nail it down objectively, coldly, like a machine.

But all that analyzing was drowned out by the subtle beat of my heart as I remembered her delighted smile when she suggested tomorrow's meeting time. Was it really that simple?

Did I just wish to spend time with her?

I had gotten up early – really early – to prepare myself in various ways. As today was a Saturday and we were not going to meet on the train to work, I was forced to acknowledge something I rarely ever thought about. I owned almost no presentable clothes.

"This one is kind of alright."

I tried to deceive myself, but it was not that easy. The dress I had pulled out of my closet was mostly blue and white. It had a rather worn look and seemed slightly too tight around my chest. How old was this thing again? My chest had not seen any significant growth since high-school, but it still seemed tight. Maybe it had shrunk when I put it into the wash, but then the same would go for most of my incredibly small inventory. I had never paid it any heed until now. My suits were always washed at the cleaners down the street, which were surprisingly affordable. At home I only wore sweatpants and shirts.

Back to the dress in question: it was made for summer time clearly. I couldn't remember ever buying it, though. Could it have slipped into my laundry back then… was this my mother's?

"No way."

That woman wore much fancier outfits. All those years I had avoided even looking at her, but that is something that always stuck in the corner of my mind. Her thick make-up and those expensive outfits. My mood sank considerably after thinking about my mother, which gave me the cool state of mind to dismiss this dress as a bad fit. It really didn't suit me. Not that I knew what did.

What was Shimamura going to wear? It's not that I really cared that much, I didn't. It only made sense to match the effort of the person you meet up with. What if she wore something really fancy? I would embarrass myself with this. But if she went super casual, what would it say about me if I wore a suit?

It was wrong. It was absolutely wrong. Why did I care? We were just going to eat food and then go our separate ways. It was just a whim that had led to this strange path, a whim which I could not take back. Not that I wanted to. Oddly enough, I was sure of that, despite my agonizing morning.

In the end I picked the dress anyway. My options were not exactly broad. I took my notepad from the dresser and wrote something down.

'Buy new clothes'

I considered crossing it out again, but decided to stick it to my mirror instead. There might have been some occasion in the future where it would be beneficial to have at least one good set of clothes. Convincing myself of that, I left my home with a pounding heart.

The promised time had finally arrived and so had I. Our meeting spot was the plaza in front of the station, the only thing that actually connected us. It seemed we got here at different times in the morning, taking different trains to the bigger station the city over where we then converged unto the same subway. From that viewpoint, this would be our first time meeting at this particular station. Why did we take different trains anyway?

With such idle thoughts occupying my mind, I stood in front of a large clock and waited patiently. I was early. Really early. It was a habit of mine that started developing when I joined the company; because I certainly didn't pay attention to schedules and time during my school days. Quite the opposite. They called me a delinquent for most of the three years of high-school.

A delinquent, huh? I am not sure I could agree with that moniker. Not that I was insulted by it, because I had been called much worse before. When thinking of delinquents, though, the image appearing before my inner eye was of someone who wore their uniform loosely, always scowled and squatted in front of convenience stores.

Was I really stupid or something?

It's true that I rarely attended classes beyond the bare minimum requirement for graduating and I didn't regret that. But I always wore my uniform cleanly wherever I skipped class, which in some sense may have been even worse. My black hair had never been bleached or dyed even once, I could not remember ever wearing accessories and I certainly didn't pierce my ears. Smoking was out of the question too. If I ever had picked a fight with someone it completely slipped my mind by now, but people didn't really approach me back then, so it was unlikely.

What was a delinquent, really?

In the end we all became gears of society, just grinding away until all our edges were smoothed out and we stopped completely. Was it a hollow existence, only ever spinning as the greater machine demanded? Being completely replaceable at any given time? I honestly did not care at all. Being replaceable went both ways for me. I did not care if I kept my current job, there were always others. Nothing truly tethered me to this one place, to this world. Sometimes I wondered what kept me going. Where was I headed? It sure would have been nice if someone could give me a sign.

"Adachi? Aren't you way too early?"

That's when she suddenly appeared from behind me. Her voice was tinged in slight confusion, but she mostly just seemed curious.

Shimamura.

I spun on my toes and looked back with widened eyes. She had arrived twenty minutes before our agreed meeting time (of course I was about an hour early myself) and now slightly leaned forward in the pure sunlight coming from the glass ceiling. Her waist long hair was swaying slightly in the late summer wind. There was a tone of light brown mixed in there, showing traces of being dyed a long time ago. Her reddish-brown eyes fixated me curiously, but my own eyes seemed to nearly absorb every detail of her existence until I drowned in her presence.

Shimamura was wearing a casual summer dress as well. It was not the same as mine, instead having a small vest placed above the beige top. It looked comfortable, but somehow it had a real sense of elegance to it. I also noted the hair piece she was wearing to contain her bangs. A white flower design, huh?

Being stared at so intensely must have made her self-conscious as she started playing with the tips of her hair and gave me a wry smile. I wanted to tear my eyes away to put an end to this awkward moment, but something inside my head prevented me from moving. My stiff neck muscles were put to the breaking point, but could not move more than a badly oiled valve.

"I just got here early to buy something for my little sister."

Shimamura finally tired of waiting for my response and explained her own early appearance by pointing at something she had put into her purse. Perhaps she assumed my silence was due to wanting to know why she was here already. That was definitely not the case.

"I see."

It took me far longer than reasonable to finally press out this basic reply. Even for my standards this exchange was painful. To overcome this moment and with it my own weakness, I pulled up my hand for a belated greeting and then forced a smile.

"I, uhm… just didn't want to be late."

That was the best I could do. And Shimamura?

She laughed. It was a pleasant sound that I wouldn't have minded listening to for longer, but she caught herself quickly and then approached me with light steps. Her face was slightly apologetic for laughing at me, but not too much.

"You are an interesting one, Adachi."

That was her assessment of our disjointed exchange. It honestly made no sense to me.

To reach the Taiwanese restaurant I worked at before we had to take a bus for two stations. Usually I would have rode my bike there, but I could hardly ask Shimamura to sit on the back and hold on to me. That would have been extremely odd for two strangers to do, I was certain of it. So why did I feel a hint of regret?

When we left the bus, Shimamura adjusted the white hat she was wearing to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. Somehow I thought that her pose was very lady-like and picturesque. It was also making me keenly aware that I kept glancing at her too much. This was getting ridiculous, so I just focused on leading the way down the road.

The recognizable parking lot was visible already and if we turned the corner I would be able to spot the garish sign above the entrance. Last I remembered some of the signboard's lights had been defective, but nobody ever bothered to fix them in the three years I worked there anyway. It was probably not helping business much, but it wasn't like they would go bankrupt over it.

We turned the corner and got a look at the restaurant. Or at least at the sign I mentioned. It had lost its last bit of electric light and was hanging there without life. This was just the tip of the iceberg, though. The large windows of the place showed… an empty building. There was nothing inside but some old crates and rolled up wallpapers. There was not a soul in sight.

My entire body began sweating as every pore opened simultaneously. I felt my heartbeat come to a creaking halt. If I had any breath left in my lungs I may have shouted in surprise. Instead I just stood there, frozen in space-time.

"Hmm? Is there something you wanted to look at?"

Shimamura was clueless for now, just staring at the windows with a neutral expression.

I was unable to respond as I took in the reality before me. The restaurant was gone and if not for the old sign I would have second guessed whether we took a wrong turn somewhere. How could it have been closed up in just a couple of years? It had not even occurred to me that this could ever happen, so I had not double checked their website or anything.

With a twitching eye I spotted some old flier hanging from the wall next to the entrance. With a strained move of my hand I took the half-torn piece of paper off and read the words on it.

[Notice of relocation]

It said. Apparently about a year ago they had chosen to move locations to a different part of town. There were no reasons listed of course and thanks to the torn lower half I could not even figure out the new address. Nobody had rented the place since then it seemed, explaining the sign still being here and of course this flier's existence. With so little to go on I could not tell whether they had decided on the move due to money trouble or the opposite. A better location would certainly not have been a bad upgrade. This place was rather far off the main street.

"It's… gone."

I subconsciously gave my disbelief audible release.

"So this really was the place you were talking about?"

Apparently Shimamura had already figured it out by my reaction. If I didn't want to die of shame I had to avoid turning around to see her expression at all costs. Thus I was just left facing the empty building front and holding a torn piece of my past in the tight grip of my fingers.

Should I have told her to go home? I realized that this would not be the right approach right away, but what alternatives did I really have? After promising to take her to get Chinese food at a discount, it would be impossible to just suggest going to some other restaurant instead. I was feeling quite dizzy.

"That's too bad. I know what it's like, last year my favorite doughnut shop also closed at the mall."

The words coming from the woman behind me were anything but judgmental. Rather, she gave me sympathy. That was really unexpected, even more than how little she seemed to actually care about the lost lunch opportunity. It made me think that she honestly didn't care much about our outing itself. Was Shimamura the type of person who didn't care when things didn't work out? Did she just go with the flow like this by principle?

"W-we should go get food somewhere else. I will treat you!"

My sudden outburst startled her for sure, but this was the only way I could redeem myself. I had promised her something, so by paying for her food I would at least make up for it, however little I could.

"Your treat, hm?"

That seemed to garner her attention as she cupped her chin with a distant look. She did not agree immediately. In fact she really seemed to have been deep in thought ever since we arrived here. I carefully glanced back at her to gauge what she was thinking. I may as well have tried to read the brainwaves of whales with my mind.

"Well, whatever. I got a better idea. Why don't you come to my place instead? Let's have dinner with my family."

That was the aloof suggestion coming from her mouth as she threw aside the heavy thoughts and faced me with a smile.

"What?"

My eyes turned wide as I gave her a stunned response.

This day really was full of surprises.