"Brown Haired Girl"

The festival is in full-swing. Under the glow of lanterns, the stalls and yukata and people pack the plaza. I push past them, heading towards the side of the stage where they walked Shizuko off. I slip a few high school students pointing toy guns at targets at the back of a stall and get away from the bright lights. I’m at the edge of the plaza now - firefighters and paramedics and volunteers man a row of tents here. I’m not the only person looking to check-in on Shizuko - there’s a whole pack of well-wishers swirling around one of the tents. A few police officers keep them at bay, but they’re not going to stop me.

…well, they do, until I explain who I am. A cop's face relaxes. “You’re Shunsuke? The woman’s been asking for you.” The cop keeps the crowd back as he lets me through; I step into the dark tent.

A battery-powered lamp illuminates Shizuko’s face. A bandage now wraps around her head, with extra gauze layered in on the side of her temple. Despite it all, she seems in good spirits as she sits in a folding chair, idly swinging her geta, sending long shadows across the asphalt floor. In addition to a paramedic, the young cop with the buzz cut is also inside the tent; he’s busy jotting down Shizuko’s answers to his questions on a notepad.

“You sure you don’t want to press charges?”

The events of tonight must’ve drained Shizuko’s strength; she speaks in a quiet tone. But because I’ve been with her for almost an entire month now, I can detect the firmness in her words and convictions.

“It’s okay.” She rubs a hand along the gauze. “I think I’ve done enough damage to Takeuchi.”

The cop taps the front of his blue cap with his pen. “No kidding. Can’t wait to see his numbers in the first poll, if he even makes it that far.”

The paramedic examines her clipboard. "No signs of a concussion, but it'll take some time for the cut on your head to heal. As your doctor, I recommend you head home tonight and stay away from any bright lights.”

Shizuko nods my way. “As his tour guide, I have a duty to show him around the Soga Festival.”

With a zip of her bag, the paramedic chuckles and finishes her examination. “Very well. To be young again.”

“Enjoy the festival,” the buzzcut cop tells us, and follows the paramedic out the tent flap. Through the thin fabric, I hear him ask her to accompany him for goldfish scooping; before her voice trails off into the crowd, I hear a distinctive, affirmative-

“Ah, what the hell. Let’s do it.”

That just leaves Shizuko and I. Noises drift in from the outside world - the cheers, shouts, and camaraderie of the festival. But I’m enjoying the stillness and quiet of the tent, just me and her, because I’m in love with her and I’m smiling like an idiot and I’m glad she’s okay.

I kneel down and hug her in her chair. She’s surprised by it, and maybe I am, too. Her yukata’s warm; she’s warm; her hair smells like strawberry and the gold strands dance in the light of the lamp. Her arms reach around my back, pulling me closer, and then, and then-

“Are you sniffing me?”

Shizuko looks away awkwardly, her face as red as the lanterns. “No, just, uh…” She can’t come up with anything and coughs into her fist.

I’m still kneeling. Our faces are close and her chest rises and falls with increasing intensity. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” I tell her. “You really did plan this whole thing, didn’t you?”

She brings one of my hands down onto her thigh. Electric jolts run through me, since the yukata is thin, and she rubs her thumb along the back of my hand. “When I went to school in Tokyo, I said it was to get a change of scenery. But I was also running from my problems in Yoshiaki. Meeting new people and seeing new things is nice and all. But you can’t really move on until you confront the past. Otherwise, something will always gnaw at you.”

Shizuko places both of her hands over mine. “I saw the opportunity. You told me Takeuchi gets really angry. Kentaro and Ayako knew the Troupe and the guitar duo. Along with Yuka, we made something happen. Because sometimes the only thing stopping something from happening is actually just ourselves.”

I don’t speak because her words are incredibly true. I’m running from the past as well, but I push the inevitable confrontation with it until tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is soak in Shizuko’s scent, bask in the glow radiating from her. She’s showing me doors to places I never knew existed.

“I, um…took a philosophy class my first year,” Shizuko elaborates, squeezing my hand out of embarrassment. “That’s where I learned to say what I’ve saying. And maybe a little from you, too. You got a way with words.”

“You got a way with that yukata,” I can’t help but answer. She crushes my hand at that, and we’re both laughing together now, but that’s when I see the tear in the side of the fabric. From the crook of her arm to her hip, the side of the yukata has been torn clean through; skin pale as moonlight pokes through. I wish I had another shirt to give her.

The tent flap flaps open when another paramedic pokes her head in. “A girl named Ume says she’s hear to see you.”

Shizuko and I share a glance. She takes a deep breath and nods for her to come in. A moment later, dressed in a red and yellow yukata, Ume steps in. A flood of relief washes over her face when sees Shizuko’s alright.

“I haven’t seen somebody take a punch that well since the Rumble in the Jungle,” Ume says, eyeing the gauze on Shizuko’s temple.

We share another glance. “I, um…I don’t know what that means,” Shizuko admits, looking at the geta Ume’s wearing instead of her face.

Ume twirls a strand of brown hair around a finger. “It’s a…it’s a boxing reference. But never mind.”

Their last conversation was that confrontation after Ume won the race earlier this month. Perhaps both of them had been hopped up on adrenaline then, because the air in the tent is dripping with awkwardness now. Shizuko’s still holding my hand; Ume is tugging on the collar of her yukata.

Something has to give. I urge Ume on with my eyes; she grips the collar tightly, then sighs. “Uh…Shizuko. I just want to, you know, apologize for what happened back in high school.” Ume loosens her grip on her collar. “I was being selfish and it destroyed our friendship. After the race, you mentioned that you relied on me too much. But I was the same way. Once I lost you, I realized how alone in a crowd I really was. I don’t think I can ever make it up to you, but I’m sorry.”

Shizuko doesn’t know what to say. Her mouth moves, but nothing comes out. But that’s alright, because Ume keeps going. “I know you’re going back to school in Tokyo soon. And I know you probably already have plans for the festival tonight. But, you know, if you have a free day before you go back, I’m…around.”

Shizuko slowly lets go of my hand and stands. From what I've heard, Ume used to be the taller one by a large margin; she still is, but the distance has shortened now, and maybe it’s my eyes playing tricks on me, but they look like they stand at equal height now, at least in this moment.

“It’s kind of funny,” Shizuko admits. “Things weren’t going so well for me in Tokyo. So I’m coming back to Yoshiaki. At least for a year. I guess that’s not really fair to you. You wanted to leave this whole time. And I got the opportunity to leave, but I’m coming back.”

Ume lets out a good-natured sigh. “Well, that’s just life. And, if you’re willing to have me, I guess being stuck with you isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

I wonder if their high school versions ever would have imagined their future selves in this kind of situation. They can’t pull all-nighters anymore - they have bags under their eyes now; they’ve replaced their school uniforms with yukatas and visions of the future with the moment they currently find themselves in. Literal years have gone by, and yet, here they are, back in Soga, together.

“Your yukata,” Ume realizes, glancing down at the exposed side.

“It’s okay,” Shizuko says. “The paramedic left me a spare change of clothes.”

Ume shakes her head. “You should take my yukata. I don’t need it all that much.”

Shizuko looks puzzled. “Are you sure? Why?”

Ume just shrugs. “Kindness doesn’t need a reason, you know?”

After a moment, Shizuko takes in a deep breath and nods in complete understanding.

“No…it really doesn’t.”