The Girl in the Bucket

“You’re really still doing that?”

My long-time friend Michi Tanabe gazed upon me with an unmistakable look of pity.

Long-time isn’t entirely accurate. He and I had attended the same junior high school, but we weren’t exactly close friends back then.

Fate would have it that we were seated next to each other on our first day at Takumi High, and our shared educational history proved enough of a connection for a proper friendship to brew.

I find that’s the case with most people. Vastly different personalities can always find an attachment, despite what it may seem like at first. Some common ground is just needed to get them started, like a catalyst in a chemical reaction.

“Of course I am… don’t act surprised. It’s a new semester and my decision hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Poor Master Higashi, I’d hoped you would have realised by now it’s a lost cause,” Michi lamented while shaking his head. “I don’t know how I can get this through that thick skull of yours, but you should know by now that running a club by yourself just isn’t sustainable.”

All reason told me he was right. An empty shell of a club, devoid of even a single member, is what I had encountered at the outset of the year. In fact, the only reason it was still around at all was because our supervisor had yet to be reassigned to a new club.

It was unusual. Photography clubs were normally fairly member healthy, or so I had thought. I reasoned that the former third years must have been guilty of crimes against photography to leave it without a soul.

Either way I cursed them for leaving such an important club in such a state. Its survival was now up to me.

“I know, I know. It’s been a struggle so far. But… I don’t think I’m quite ready to give up on it yet. My heart’s in it now, that's the only thing that matters right?”

I took a prolonged, deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. Michi could tell that I wasn’t to be swayed.

“Alright, suit yourself. Just know if you ever get bored, the literature club is always looking for new members. And… if you ask me, you could do with a few more friends, Atsushi. You like to read, right?”

“Yeah well… only part time.”

“What does that even mean? It’s not like reading is a job to us,” he chuckled.

“You guys sure make it seem like one,” I replied, mid yawn. The glint of the clock at the front of the room caught my eye. “It’s about time I headed over, I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t forget to send me a copy of your resignation letter when you finally give up, president.”

The Photography Club’s room was a fairly remote place, on the third floor and at the edge of the school. One would have to take a tedious and winding route, past most other clubrooms, and up a couple flights of stairs. To me, a reminder of the circumstances that the club was in.

Every afternoon, I’d walk past the chorus of laughter and shouting, the sounds and scents of youth spilling out from every open door. The corridors echoed with the smell of calligraphy ink and freshly brewed tea, and the noise of drama rehearsals or a band's relentless practice.

A pang of jealousy tugged at my chest as I passed them all, knowing that I couldn’t get to experience that sense of camaraderie.

Maybe Mishi was right, I thought. I could cut my losses now and have the high school experience I had always imagined… ugh. No. I had joined the Photography Club for a reason. That note… I couldn’t forget it. I just couldn’t… I would have to see this through.

I arrived at the clubroom door, having collected the keys on my way. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered. It had been left ajar already, just barely, as if someone had intended to close it.

As far as I knew, the room had practically been my own little domain since the start of the year. It was filled with nothing but remnants of a bygone era- old photo albums faded by time, and stacks of materials from long forgotten activities.

A dozen spare chairs were haphazardly stacked in the corner, no longer needed by the school. Nothing here anyone would miss, I had imagined.

My pocket contained the only key to the room, excluding the master ones… it must have been a cleaner opening the wrong room, failing to close it properly afterwards. No need to overthink it.

The door rumbled open, and I stepped inside. The room was silent as always, save for the gentle hum of the lights above. On the table sat the shallow white box. The dusty camera and tripod were exactly as I’d left them… but something felt off.

I wandered towards the window intent on inspecting the view. Pictured below was the athletics track, already full of the noise and energy of the resident running club.

My eyes drifted towards the space to the rear of the modest storage building, where a row of faucets lined the wall.

Greeting me there was a view I didn’t particularly care for. Akane Mori standing on her toes, her back hard up against the wall, and her lips interlocked with another's. I vaguely recognized him from her class.

Akane was another former attendee of my junior high school. The two of us were childhood friends- having known eachother since elementary. There was a point in my life where I had considered her my best friend…

At present however, she could only best be expressed as an acquaintance. During the later years of junior high we slowly drifted apart, as kids often do. A short acknowledgement of each other's existence in the hallway was the extent of our relationship now.

People come and go, like waves in the ocean. My grandfather had gone to great pains to emphasise that fact to me. Nonetheless… thoughts of her crossed my mind often.

At present, Akane Mori couldn’t be described as anything other than an absolute beauty.

My chest tightened. I felt the urge to look away, erase the sight from my memory, but my gaze remained fixed on the couple. Regret and longing began to flow through my body- emotions I’d buried deep down, left unresolved and unacknowledged for years.

I had never figured out exactly what I felt for her- but seeing her so vulnerable with someone else, it felt like a part of me was slipping away…

A harsh crack followed by a sudden rush of wind at my back brought my mind back into the room- wait, wind? That couldn’t be right… the afternoon was cool, and no windows were open. I shivered, the unexpected chill crawling down my spine.

I turned my attention back over my shoulder, only to be utterly bemused by the sight that I was welcomed with. There was a girl, standing in a large metal bucket in the centre of the room.

Few things were unremarkable about the girl. She looked to be fairly average in height- maybe slightly above, well proportioned, her hair dropping a touch below the shoulders, her skin smooth as porcelain.

Most other features I found quite fascinating- in the purest sense of the word. Wavy, dusty white hair, brushed over her forehead into bangs, with a single red strip running down the front above her right eye.

The eyes themselves, like nothing I’d ever seen- a deep crimson exploding out from her pupil onto the rich gold of her iris- central heterochromia as I recognised, but far from any colour combination I had thought possible. They were embers, burning with life.

Her clothes were unreserved. Again, a brilliant red colour projected from her jacket, draped over a black hoodie, sleeves slightly bunched at the wrists. Tracksuit pants covered her lower half, dark complimented by a white trim. The tops of bone-white high-tops peeked out from behind the face of the bucket, completing her look.

I froze up, but it wasn't just her appearance which held me in place. It was the energy around her- the way the air felt different, charged.

The mysterious girl peered back at me, eyes seemingly full of her own fascination. There was a moment of hesitation, before she grinned and spoke.

“It worked- I can’t believe it! It finally worked!”