Maruyama

My second self got to know the name of Ringomori Yoru last summer, when the butterfly weeds were beginning to bloom.

I was assigned kitchen duty on my first night. I took the orders of the chefs: Soda, water, tea, the normal stuff.

Then she asked, "May I get...apple juice?"

After a few months of doing my duty, I learned she never changed her order and that she was quite the formal and timorous girl. We went to different high schools and never saw each other during the day. At the orphanage, we never met besides my duty every other week and passing glances at the dinner table. If she spoke, it wasn't for long, and it was clear that she didn't have any friends.

"Yoru-chan, do you want ice cream?"

"No...thank you."

"Ringomori, know where the remote is?"

"Unfortunately...I do not."

"Hey, I was sitting there!"

"I am...sincerely sorry."

She was overly polite with everyone, but that didn't mean she was much appreciated. The number of books she finished in a day was greater than the words she spoke aloud, and not once did she initiate a conversation with anyone. Like everyone around me, she was nothing.

Time's only purpose in my life was to measure how long I had stayed in my monochromatic hell. Before I knew it, it was the middle of autumn again, and my birthday was on the foggy horizon.

Between each birthday, I was told my mental health had apparently worsened. The pills didn't work, yet I had to continue taking them. The therapy sessions never progressed, but I had to keep attending them. As I left his office into the waiting room, Doctor Shizuko whistled for my attention.

"Happy sixteenth," he said.
I didn't respond.

I continued down to the front door, where I saw two girls talking on a couch. One was a little girl I knew—the daughter of my therapist. The other was an older girl I knew of. For a fleeting moment, our eyes met, but she averted before I could blink. We didn't speak, but there was a thought just as quick running across my mind.

Is she here for the same reason?

I had school, but my next destination was elsewhere. It was the anniversary of my birth, but also of my diagnosis and the death of my parents. Between being surrounded by a bunch of boisterous classmates or by myself in a quiet cemetery, the choice was obvious. My stomach rumbled and my already poor taste buds weren't itching for breakfast at school, so I took a different and random route to the cemetery to try and find a place to satisfy my hunger on the way.

Along the new road, my eyes caught a pie shop. I had a soft spot for sweets and took a closer look. The soft and tranquil aura I felt while gazing convinced my hunger. I caught—as much as my nose would allow—a little whiff of the food and felt a throbbing ache in my head, but it was transient.

I requested the house recommendation from the male cashier; key lime pie and matcha latte. I sat at an empty table for two since the individual seats were taken and started eating my food and playing my rhythm game without looking up once. It was when I was nearly finished and about ready to leave that I was approached. Raising my eyes, I saw the girl I knew of.

"How...do you do? May I sit...with you?"

I tilted my head at her, then turned to see the individual seats now vacant. It was safe to say I was easily surprised. I quickly shut my eyes and shook my head to regather myself. Since I was leaving soon, there wasn't a major difference as to where she sat, so it was more convenient to nod my head.

I said, "Please, f-feel free."
That was her first genuine appearance on a jetty.

I figured she joined me because of what happened earlier, but it was still a wild coincidence to end up at the same pie shop. She attentively scrolled down her phone as I did my own thing. The two of us didn't talk until I was ready to leave. Being true to myself, I wasn't the one to speak first.

"Have you been coming here...often?" she asked.

Is this a pickup line?
I shook my head.
"I-It's my first time."

Her eyes seemingly sunk to her lap.
A few silent seconds passed, then, without moving her head, she said, "I have been coming here since I was nine...usually after therapy sessions and doctor appointments."

I gave her a quasi-interested "I see" then returned to my phone.

She then asked, "May I ask...something else?"
I nodded.
"If you do not mind telling… Why were you at Shizuko-sensei's house?"

I very bluntly said, "Depression. He actually diagnosed me on this day, four years ago."

The clanging of her fork on her plate echoed throughout the pie shop. I wasn't much startled because I predicted that to be her reaction. It was why I said it the way I did, to confirm that she was like everyone else who would avoid me once this interaction was over. All that was left to do was say farewell, then we could go back to only talking when I was on duty.

However, with a rusty smile prominent, she fervently said, "Me too!"

My eyebrows raised to widen my eyes. I was stunned, and she immediately realized her sudden excitement. She shrunk in her seat and lowered her head again. Her dark fringe acted as a curtain for her eyes.

Still, she continued, "I...I mean, I am diagnosed as well. It was two years ago, however I knew Shizuko-sensei before that due to his wife."

My eyes flickered between her fringe and the empty seats by the window.
Why sit here instead of over there?

We returned to silence and I stood up to leave. The girl sitting across from me must have coincidentally found a jetty and stayed out of curiosity. I picked up my tray and took my first step, opening my mouth to say goodbye for good. But then she raised her hand like a student in school.

"Will you continue...coming here?" she asked, raising her head.

Without much thought, I responded, "I don't see why not."

There was a bit of glimmer around her, either from the way the shop's lighting was hitting her or just from something entirely different.

"Goodbye," I said.

"See you later," she replied.

I walked to the cemetery that was north of my orphanage. Even if I didn't remember my parents properly, I felt I'd taken their luck to survive the crash but hadn't made any use of it yet; it embedded a slight guilt in me. I visited my family's gravestone every birthday after therapy, schooldays or not.

My visits were always short. All I did was leave my parents an offering of a matcha tea bag, tell them it was my birthday, and provide a hollow apology for failing them another year. I didn't know enough about them to reminisce. From the solid stone that displayed their engraved names, my eyes looked up to see the sky permeated in equally gray clouds. It was the same as when I left the hospital.

Since I lived closer to the cemetery than before, I had the opportunity to walk back to the orphanage instead of taking a bus and stepped towards the back exit for the first time.

My next move was of pure impulse. I spotted a somewhat professional camera hoisted by a small tripod in front of one of the gravestones and bent my knees in front of it. I stared into the lens, feeling a minor headache as I tried to focus on the monogram at the top. It was the Hiragana characters for "Apple" and wasn't something that should concern me.

I stood up just as my left ear twitched.

"Vieira-san?" she said.

I turned around and saw her standing behind me with hands behind her back, perplexity prominent in her eyes, and head slightly tilted to my left. She once again surprised me, though that expression didn't show. Until that moment, only Doctor Shizuko could say my name properly, and for him it took time. Not only that, I was surprised to see her a second time.

I equipped a mellow mask.
"You're Ringomori Yoru, right?"

Her neck straightened and eyes widened. A faint gasp escaped through her open mouth and her face was red as an apple. I was clueless what caused that reaction.
She asked, "How do you...know?"

"You're the overly formal shy girl who always orders apple juice."

The red on her cheeks vaguely faded. She brought her right hand to her chest and closed it into a fist as her eyes fell to the stone path beneath our feet.
"Correct. That is who I am."

I couldn't tell what kind of character she was supposed to be.

"R-Right, have you been followin' me?"

Her head jolted again and both of her hands were brought forward, waving and crossing her denial in panic. In her left hand was a small wooden bucket. It was tradition to pour water over a gravestone to quench the dead's suffering thirst. It was normally done before prayer.

"I have been coming to this cemetery since I was eight years old...always on this day."
Then, quietly, as if she didn't want the winds to hear, she said, "I would record my visits on my camera."

I turned to read the name on the gravestone the camera was pointed at and read the Kanji characters of the name, "Ringomori." I truly shouldn't have been surprised since we lived under the same roof.

Why is she visitin' today? I wondered, but didn't ask.
Maybe it's just another coincidence.

I bowed my head.
"S-Sorry for snoopin' around."

"Do... Do not worry about it."

I raised my head. She looked like she had more to say, so I stayed a moment longer. However, she couldn't let the words slip through her sealed lips and the moment passed. Already saying goodbye once, I simply walked away this time. If only I could say this was the last time she was at a jetty.

"Vieira-san," she called out.
I turned around to see her duck her eyes.
I took a step forward in order to hear her bashfully say, "Happy...birthday."
Her hushed introduction was befitting for the setting and her character.

I offered an unpracticed smile of appreciation, but it wouldn't reach her. For the best, I didn't feel the need to pursue the conversation further. She must have stumbled upon a jetty as I passed by, and I expected her to wander off without a follow-up statement, but she stayed.

"I hope this year will be better for you, Ch— Vieira-san."

"This year"? I thought, recalling what she said about when she came to this cemetery.

We had a sweet tooth and shared the same therapist and residence. I believed I knew these things through random chance; that was my conclusion. It was also random chance that I knew I wasn't the sole celebrity today.

"H-Happy birthday to you too, Ri-Ringomori-san."

I wasn't sure of it, but maybe the corner of her lips raised. I bowed from the waist and turned around.

With my back to her, I heard her say, "Don't join the parents."

We didn't speak for the rest of that day, but its purpose was already served. After every therapy session I had, I went to the pie shop. Sometimes she would ask to sit with me, sometimes we just missed each other. When we were together, sometimes we spoke, but most times we stayed silent doing our own individual things. If she were to speak, it was mostly about trivial stuff like what she was doing before or going to do afterwards.

I couldn't figure out her reason for sitting with me. If she wanted to know me more, she would have made a better effort to talk, but she was evidently content with the silence. If our few similarities caused her to approach me, I didn't reciprocate the motive. I never became accustomed to her presence, only acknowledging the likelihood of it. She, on the other hand, adjusted to it slightly better, maybe due to prior experience.

➼ ➼ ➼

Perhaps that birthday, from therapy to the cemetery, was a catalyst for why she kept showing up at my hellish jetties for almost nine months. Even if we had different wavelengths and philosophies, we were still similar. I knew she was lonely like me, but in contrast, she put in an effort to change that. If denying her invite only inconvenienced her, then was it worth inconveniencing myself? If this was where the stream led my boat, was it truly an inconvenience?

I hoped she'd tire from running jetty to jetty, but every time I fully passed the one she was just at, she'd already gone to the next. It was only my own fault for willfully docking my small boat next to the demurred Ringomori outside the pie shop on Thursday; albeit late. A catalyst comes in many forms.

I dashed through the streets that led to the pie shop, turning a nine-minute walk into a four-minute sprint. Despite my speed, I arrived fifteen minutes late to the agreed meeting time that I misremembered.

I saw her waiting outside the blue-painted corner shop's window. She stood underneath a black sign that displayed its name, "CLARIS," with a white cat silhouette and paw-prints painted between the A and R. It was likely a reference to the musical duo that originated in the prefecture.

I hunched forward with an arm on my knee for support.
Panting for air with the other arm half raised, I said, "S-Sorry I-I'm late."

Her arms were crossed.
"Your tardiness was to be expected, cannot say I am surprised, Vieira-san."
It seemed like scolding bypassed the awkward greeting. Yet her eyes were still glued to the ground, so her fault-finding didn't have such an impact.

With my breath nearly caught, I pleaded my defense.
"I-I always struggle with rememberin' time. I forgot if we agreed to meet at 10:00 or 10:30. It's easy for me to confuse the two most commonly used minutes of the hour."

There was more to it, but I didn't feel like she needed to hear. I spent most of last night awake, staring up at the looming ceiling in my room. My hell forced me to make up a plethora of scenarios where today went wrong. After each scenario, I started to dread the day more and more.

She reviewed my answer, gently lifting her head so her eyes could meet mine, but stopping halfway to my jacket.
She mumbled, "I...I guess I can see your point."
Her fingers twiddled before her chest. Her voice somehow became softer.
"Next time...if you are going to be late, text me about it. Or else I might think I am being...stood up."

She was being genuine; her fidgeting told me so. While I couldn't directly know how she felt, she must have grown anxious with every passing minute that I didn't show; likely a reason from her past. Once again, I was being an inconvenience, so I bowed as far down as I could bend.

"I-I'm sorry for causin' you trouble, Ringomori-san. This is supposed to be a relaxed outing but I've already made a mess of things."

"Don't...uh… Um…"
I lifted my head to see her frantically waving her arms quite near my face.
"There...is no need to worry. Truly, it is not your fault. If anything...it was more mine, I could have texted you. I was...overthinking too much about something tedious. I...I'm sorry, Vieira-san."

Somehow we had traded positions, and I was now the one reassuring her the blame wasn't to fall onto her shoulders.

She said, "I will do my best...to fix that part of me...for next time."

Hearing her say that caused me to reply without thought.
"O-Okay. I-I'll also try my best to be on time, n-next time."

Apparently a next time was agreed.

She continued to say all that mattered was that we were together and could finally start the peer outing. I didn't have even a suspicion on if she was looking forward to this, but I was personally hoping for this to go by in the blink of an eye. She crouched down and picked up a picnic basket that was set by her feet, then started walking to a nearby crosswalk.

We didn't order at the pie shop for now or later—per her request—and left for the subway station that would take us across Sapporo to the mountain. We walked shoulder-to-shoulder, or really shoulder-to-head.

To reiterate, Sapporo wasn't sweltering during the summer and leaned more on the breezy side. I typically wore joggers and muddy sneakers with my long sleeves, but for a hike up the city's surrounding mountains, I opted for dark beige cargo pants and a black windbreaker. I had a backpack with supplies for an activity in the likelihood that I got bored.

Ringomori knew the weather as well as I did, but her solution had a different approach. She wore some kind of gray shorts that didn't pass her knees, which meant it was partially covered by her dark gray oversize hoodie; over it was a backpack similar to mine. Her delicate and nimble legs were accentuated by the exposure down to her fur-trimmed high-top sneakers. The quite literal cherry on top was a red bandana knotted on her cinnamon-colored hair that just passed her shoulders.

No one would assume we suffer greatly… Maybe that's the goal of dressin' up like this? I know dressin' like how we truly feel only makes people think we're beggin' for sympathy.

What piqued my interest the most was the basket she was carrying. Her shoulders were dipped and her arms trembled at the wrists, making the weight of the contents easy to deduce. I figured she didn't have the courage to ask me to carry it.

We reached a stoplight and she set the basket down, doing her best to not reveal the relief off her fingertips. Once the light turned green, she crouched to pick it back up, but the air she felt in its place caused her to turn her head. Her eyes widened as she saw it already in my hands.

"Um... You do not have to...carry it for me."

"I-I'd like to," I replied. "May I?"

"Well, I am not...against it."

"Alrighty."
I started walking across the street as the light started counting down, making her skip bashfully to catch up.
This is heavier than I thought. What's in here?

"There is a variety of apples in there," she said bluntly.

Yeah, makes sense.
I presumed the conversation ended, but once we made it to the other side of the street, she kept going.

"My favorite fruit is...apple. My family used to own an apple tree in the home we used to live in."

There was an inkling that told me she wanted to say more, so I commented, "So you've always been around them. D-Do you know a lot about them? Like the different colors and all?"

We passed our silent threshold.

"There are about 2,000 varieties of apples in Japan, and the majority are grown in the Aomori prefecture. Nearly a million tons of them are produced yearly, with over half coming from there. Hokkaido is the second-best producer, especially since the world's independence."

"Is that so?"

"Aomori is the prefecture with the best conditions to grow all kinds of fruit, but apples are definitely the most popular. The 'Fuji' apple is the most common variety in Japan, which is actually a cross between two American apples. My personal favorite is a 'Toki' apple, although it is neither common nor popular in comparison."

"That just makes you unique, I-I think."

She continued onto other trivial topics around the fruit, but there wasn't much for me to comment on, so I simply nodded my head and gave "uh-huh" intonations. Saying that, I was genuinely enlightened, seeing as I didn't know there was so much to apples—more so how someone could be so obsessed with them.

Is this a hidden part of her? I thought. Guess this is another difference between us.

"I have...always been fascinated by...this simple fruit, because there was always...something new to learn. Although, it is pointless to memorize it all if there is not a second party to listen to it all."

The topic must have been a double-edged sword, because the more she talked about it, the more I sensed a feeling of anxiety hidden in her pauses. Maybe all the fun she had with apples also came with a burden—a connection to family. A family that didn't exist in this world anymore.

I did my best to steer the conversation towards other topics, but it gradually faded into silence as we reached our destination. We had to take two subway lines and a bus ride to reach Maruyama. It was half past twelve when we arrived at the park located at the foot of the mountain.

Before we began, I decided to use the restroom. I didn't necessarily have to go, but it was better than needing to go while up the mountain. There was a restroom by a clock tower near the east entrance. I left her basket by a wooden table and she diligently sat next to it.

The restroom was as clean as one could be and the brighter side was that I was alone. After quickly handling my business, I washed my hands and tidied my hair by simply running my fingers through it and hoping the growing strands stayed out of my face. I had always cut my own hair because I didn't have the courage to tell a barber what kind of style I wanted.

Leaving the restroom, I approached the table where I'd left my outing companion. Her back was towards me and she held a red apple in her palm. She tossed it in the air a few times and presented it like a salesperson. As I closed the distance, I noticed a small camera on the table—facing her direction. I softened my footsteps and gradually heard what she was saying to it.

"That's all I brought for us today. It's our first outing together, so I'm somewhat nervous..."

She didn't have the camera's display screen flipped towards her, which seemed like a rookie mistake. I had an itch to do a small bit of tomfoolery. I didn't know where this itch came from, but it was something I wanted to do—call it payback for the scolding earlier.

I continued approaching behind her knowing I was blocked from the camera view. Using my height to my advantage, I raised my left arm in the air and formed bunny ears with my fingers. I tried to align them with her head as I got closer, imagining how it'd look on the camera.

My plan was to do this for a few seconds, then nonchalantly announce my arrival without her knowing what I did; that would backfire as she finally noticed the display and turned it around.

"I wonder if he'd know my— Huh?"
She must have noticed my bunny ears, because she frantically turned around to see me behind her, just as surprised.
"Vieira-san?!"

I slowly lowered my arm to put the bunny ears behind my head, waving ever so awkwardly with my other hand—also in the form of bunny ears. "I-I'm back."

Like the apple she held in her hand, her face blushed as she hurriedly turned back to shut off the camera. Her arms crossed over the table and she buried herself in them. Sulking, likely bashful too, she showed no intention of revealing herself. I took a seat to her left—with the basket between us—and apologized.

"S-Sorry for, um, startlin' you. And also in-intrudin' on your video."
There wasn't a response, at least not right away. My body began to heat up and itch, the uncomfortable feeling caused me to shuffle around. Then she started mumbling.

"...weird?"

"Hmm?"
I leaned closer to get a better listen.

Softly, she said, "Do you think...it is weird? Seeing someone like me recording in public?"

I took a second's pause to think.
"W-Well, it's weird only because I don't know what you're doin', but I'm sure you have a good reason. If you do, th-then that trumps any outsider's opinion, I-I think."

A moment of silence followed my statement, as if the dead were being mourned. I began to believe what I feared all night had come true, ruining the outing before it even started. She stayed in the darkness of her arms as I disappointingly exhaled and looked up.
The ugly gray that never leaves. I can't even remember the last time I saw the blue and sunny sky.

It was evident that she had seen more rainfall in the city than sunsets encircled by nature, maybe hoping today would be a rare chance for the latter. If so, I'd washed away her hopes of that fun experience.

Alongside my melancholy, I tried to conjure up another apology. I was ready to pin more blame on myself when she raised herself from her safe haven. She extended her hands forward and grabbed her camera, initiating another pause. I was led to believe she was thinking of a response; if any.

She slowly turned at the waist towards me, keeping her eyes on the camera as she dragged it from the table to the top of the basket. Her bottom lip parted ever so slightly, enough for words to slip from her mind.
"The videos...I call them Souvenirs of Apples."

The videos?

She continued, "My parents were both burdened with...health problems; me the same. My mother liked to record videos of our family as a...memory...for when any of us passed. She made so many, and it happened to be her and my father that were taken. Once they were gone...I continued the videos. It has been my only source of...happiness...since losing them and the home I grew up in."

I was taken aback. Not just because she'd apparently been having problems with her body, but because she chose to tell me about it without warning. I didn't ask for an explanation, but it was like she read my curiosity.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess.

I said to her, "That's good. I-I mean about the happiness thing, n-not the depressin' stuff. Happiness is in short supply these days."

"Is it?"

"W-Well. it is for people like us, right? Either you find joy in obscure things that no one else will understand, or you don't find it in anything."
I looked at the camera with her.
Her whole persona seemed different. Was that a second side of her, or maybe it was her first side? One she's hidden away since the diagnosis, or before that.

She brought her hands over her heart.
"It also makes me...sad. I do not have—how you say—pizzazz to make entertaining videos like my mother. I think, mayhaps, it is because she made them with an audience in mind… I have no one, my parents are gone and I do not post these online. They sit lonely on my laptop; it is rather redundant to keep making them, huh? They are useless…"
She used the end of her sleeve to wipe her face, sniffling a few times before continuing.
"Nevertheless, I want to keep doing them… I tried my best to keep it a secret...so I was very abashed when you caught me at the cemetery."

I'd been sitting still and listening, not knowing how to react to the situation. Before I knew it, it was my turn to take a pause. Thinking carefully, I first turned away to clear my throat, then turned back to respond.

"Continuin' something from your parents is admirable, I-I wish I could do that. I-I'm sorry for intrudin' on such a cherished secret, but in my defense, you should've done a better job at hidin' it—then and now. Thought you were sellin' apples as a side hustle."

"My heart sank a bit...when I saw you behind me. I really felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Not the way I would want to join my parents," she said rather lightheartedly.

"Imagine tellin' them you died of embarrassment."

"I would somehow manage to die again."

My eyes crinkled and my chin slightly lifted as a stifled chuckle broke free from my lips. I could peripherally see her surprised eyes facing me.
"So you do still laugh?" she said, then slipped a giggle herself—her right hand holding her left shoulder.

Our fleeting moment was followed by an insecure reset to our default settings.

She rummaged through her backpack and took out a camera strap, equipping it around her neck.
"Shall we...get going?"

"A-Ah, yeah, good idea."
I carried the basket.

Before venturing up the mountain trail, we found a map of the park and noted the amount of attractions it offered. Since time was still on our side, she asked if it was okay to tour a few of those places and loop around; I agreed, as it meant I could test out a method. We walked along the asphalt paths and I did my best to open my senses to the nature around us.

The Katsura trees along the paths were young and small, still attached to iron rods that kept them straight. The leafy conifers further inward were much older, reaching the heights of the sky. If the day had been sunny, these would have provided immense shade. There were also flower bushes planted in orderly fashion at the trees' roots, a sign nearby claimed there were 330 varieties. Butterflies and other conspicuous insects congregated on the leaves and displayed their colorful wings; one species being the Great Purple Emperor—the national butterfly.

A comfortable aura must have surrounded my outing companion, because she had been recording as much as she could. An array of orange flower shrubs neatly groomed alongside the path's upcoming hedges caught her eye. She kept quiet as she filmed, and that sparked a question.

Once she finished recording, I asked, "Aren't you goin' to talk like you did before?"

"Not at this moment," she said. "I want to try...doing voiceovers for times I record in public. That way I can say my current thoughts without having the wind muffling my voice. Plus...speaking to the camera aloud while walking causes people to...stare."
That was something I did notice when my gaze shifted from her to people walking by.

Other wildlife, such as squirrels and birds, were also scattered around the park; kids and bird watchers were as common. The park also had a few recreational areas. We caught glimpses of participants inside a baseball field, high-end tennis courts, and an athletic running track.

The final attraction took me by surprise.
"Is that a zoo?!"

"This place truly has everything."

"Feels like an entire outing could be spent there."

"Too bad we do not have the time today, but mayhaps we can see the animals from outside."

"I think we can this path. The small hill will give us an advantage."

As we strolled, I saw a few animals in their habitats and pens. Fortunately, I was the only one able to see. The girl next to me—even when tiptoeing—was unable to see above the barbed wires, even resorting to raising her camera above her and using the display to see inside. Luckily she found relief when kids with zoo hats, shirts, and stuffed animals left through the main exit. They carried and shared food while discussing their favorite attractions and animals.

"Did you ever come here?" I asked.

"Once, during my tenth birthday. My father had already...passed, but my mother brought me here with a friend. I cannot recall much, but I do have a video and a stuffed horse in my room from that day."
She turned to me and asked, "You?"

"I don't recall anything around here."
I shifted just my gaze towards her, happily smiling and likely remembering about the video of her visit. It was during that stare that I felt a small pain in my chest. I may have come here as a child, but there wasn't a way for me to know about it. Of course, I believed she didn't know about that part of me...but she could. She fairly enlightened me about her parents. That was the type of person she was, one completely different from me. Only my therapist, caregivers, and teachers knew about my accident. There wasn't a need for more people to know if I knew they would become disinterested. But then again, she wasn't most.

"So," I said, darting my eyes to the grass below.
I couldn't find the courage to look at her, but I knew she turned to face me based on her shoes' movement. After some hesitation and without much aplomb, I candidly told her about my accident that turned me into an amnesiac orphan.
"Because of that, I can't really remember any place I've been to before. Though I doubt I'd remember all the places I've ever gone to and the people I went with."

I still couldn't meet her eyes, but her silence led me to believe she was digesting the information and coming up with an appropriate response. I thought about apologizing for dumping all of this on her, but then her body returned to face the zoo.

"Would you like to go inside one day?" she asked.

Confused, I instinctively flicked my vision to her. From what I could see of her side profile, her question was accompanied by a genuine smile.

"It would be nice to create a memory of that, but I think zoos are more akin to those high-spirited kids rather than gloomy teenagers."

"Possibly," she said.

Including the times we rested, we spent nearly three hours touring the park before looping back to the clock tower. It was roughly four in the evening.

"Now, time for the actual reason we came."

"I forgot a hike was our goal. Let's climb this thing and call it a day; I might knock out once we get back."

"You seem to be forgetting the report we have to fill out about what we experienced today. We must turn it in before the office closes."

"Ugh," I groaned, "my legs are goin' to snap off."

We took our first steps up the mountain trail. It started off with a narrow stone path through the giant trees that flaunted their verdant leaves. Walking abreast, her shoulder repeatedly tapped against my arm. The path widened once we reached an incline, but despite that, the distance between us didn't grow.

The natural stone beneath our feet smoothly transitioned to wooden planks. It wrapped around the trees with bends and curves, sometimes veering into two and reconnected when possible. For the most part, the path was of wood, with the occasional dirt trail separating them. A small river streaming from the top of the peak was parallel to the path, splitting at a fork.

Even though my descriptions of the trail were detailed, I didn't actually see any of it. I only heard about the mountain's features through other hikers conversing about it as they walked past. For me, I spent my time staring down at my feet, my mind completely empty yet filled with many questions.
Am I supposed to be havin' fun right now?

About halfway up the trail, we took a short break. I rested the basket near my feet and clasped my hands together and leaned against the ligneous fence. I looked towards the trees on the other side of the river while Ringomori decided to record a squirrel running along the riverbank.

I stared at the rapidly flowing water, wondering if the possibility of me enjoying these moments—without overthinking it—were as unlikely as successfully swimming against the harsh currents. My thoughts were interrupted by a poor attempt at imitating a squirrel.

She used a versatile chatter that could either attract or ward off a squirrel, and it was evident that she had done the latter. As she tried to get a different angle, the fuzzy creature slipped away through a murky thicket. Slumlucked, she stopped recording and sighed.

I caught up behind her.
"Did you think you had a chance?"

"As much of a chance as my adoption."

"I-I wouldn't phrase it like that."

"Think about it. Adoptions at our age are not likely, especially when potential families are aware of our conditions. They do not want to deal with kids meant to act like adults having sudden breakdowns at arbitrary intervals."
She turned to me, expecting a consensus.

The forest, which once had chirps and chatters, fell quiet. I hadn't a response for her, and was disappointed in myself when she turned back and continued up the trail. It seemed as though we both had a hard time enjoying the outing, which commented on how unfamiliar this experience was for us.

My neck turned to face the river once more. Leaves fallen from branches rode the water to their new destination at the bottom of the mountain.
Is there a possibility of savin' us from this wearisome day? If so, is there a point in doin' it?

I picked up the basket and followed behind her, thus ending our short break.

The further we progressed upwards, the fewer hikers we saw in our path. It made it easier for her to openly record to her heart's content, albeit still timidly. As for me, I no longer heard about how the mountain looked, but it didn't matter much in the first place.

My mind was in isolation. I failed to experience the view above and around me, only staring at the woven basket I held while walking with a hanging head. I recited music in my head as if I had my earphones plugged in.

The world of music was a place where I had the ability to choose what surrounded me, and the imaginary music videos I placed myself in were far greater than reality. All around me were faceless backup dancers and camera crew praising my ability to sing and dance like it was second nature. Saying that, the director recording my current music video managed to develop a blurry face, and maybe a love for apples. It was too hazy to confirm.

The hike up the mountain's greenwood was a half-hour journey thanks to additional breaks. The trail ended near the peak, as the literal point was obscured by barricading foliage. Plenty of shrines and statues were built at the summit, and while my companion perused, I didn't bother reading the structures' plinths. There was, indeed, no point in saving the day.

We had accomplished our goal of hiking to the top of a mountain, so I figured our outing was thoroughly accomplished and we could leave. I was ready to suggest heading down when I saw her walking towards me, but only to take the basket off my hands and continue further away from the trail.

On the far side of the summit was an aperture in the trees that allowed one to see out into the city. A ledge consisting of sturdy stones made it possible for one to sit safely and admire the view. She crouched to feel the stone, then placed her basket down and opened the lid.

I followed her.
What's she... Huh?

Apparently her basket wasn't just packed with apples, but also two square seat cushions. She placed both of them on the stones, sitting on one with her legs crossed. Then she faced me.

"Would you like to sit?" she suggested.

I tilted my head in confusion.
"D-Do you really want to stay here longer?"

"What do you mean?"
Her expression shifted to perplexity.

I stared down at the border between dirt and stone.
"Have you actually been enjoyin' the outing today?"

There was hesitation in her voice, "Do you remember...what I said? I said we could make this trip worth remembering. So far it has been, so why stop now?"
I could tell she returned her eyes to the view.
"It is not often we get to explore someplace new and just forget for a brief moment."

"You should be careful when it comes to forgettin' things. When you forget, you're tradin' what you know for emptiness. Forgettin' temporarily might be okay, but get careless with it and you'll be left with nothing but a giant hole—not knowin' how to fill it in. So to not risk forgettin' more, I find comfort in stayin' in the same mundane place all the time."

Her gaze sank to the trees below, and she gently brought her knees to her chest.
"I understand your reasons, though I cannot relate to why you have them. I also find comfort in staying, but for you, staying still will not regain your emptiness. While exploring is scary, doing so might help you remember instead."

"Not you too," I sighed.

I knew it, she was too naive to understand me.

"Hmm?"
A gentle turn of her neck put her eyes on me.

"I can kind of understand Shizuko-sensei, but what benefit do you have for me regainin' my memories? Seems like everyone but me wants me to remember. My parents are dead, and no one has ever told me they're from my past, so what is there to remember besides dead people?"

"I...I am sorry, Vieira-san. I did not mean...to hit a nerve."

A nerve?

"I wanted to say if remembering did not work, it was not so bad to fill that emptiness with new things. Exploring with the right people makes it easier to enjoy each other's company...I believe. But seeing as I messed up, we should just leave now."
She fully faced me, her eyes crestfallen.
"I am sorry to be a failure in your eyes."

My eyes?

She submitted easily, but her dispirited tone told me she suppressed her true feelings for the sake of ending the conversation before it potentially turned into an argument; maybe I had already done that. I was unfair to her, trampling her feelings and causing an inconvenience. She started packing her cushions away, but I extended a hand from my pocket.

"N-No, please."
I stepped forward and crouched, facing my palm upwards to ask for the cushion. She tentatively placed it in my hand, and I returned it to its spot on the rock.
"My eyes aren't good at seein' the truth. I don't really understand you, but it only makes sense that you'd want to see an amazing view after walkin' all this way."

"You say 'amazing' but you are still looking down. Please raise your eyes to the view. The sun is finally out."

The sun is out? H-How rare is that?

I'd become so accustomed to the gray clouds that I saw no difference between them and the gray concrete and stone, so my preference shifted to wanting to stare downwards and thus blocking those rare times when the sky was vibrant with sunlight. Was there a chance I could see rosy tints with the sun?

Come to think of it, I do feel a bit warmer than before.

With the guidance of the setting sun, I lifted my chin and gradually raised my eyes. First I saw the trunks of the trees, then their branches and canopies, then penultimately the city. Numerous crepuscular rays shone through the clouds down to the surface, proving that even when shades dominated the skies, the sun was always trying to break through to provide light to the world.

I let out a whisper, "This scenery... I can draw it."

Without breaking eye contact with the sunrays, I quickly sat on the cushion and took off my backpack. Rummaging inside, I brought out a notebook and a pouch full of pens and pencils and placed them on my lap.

"Are... Have you picked up drawing?" she asked.

"I must've been drawin' since I was a kid, because I had notebooks of a bedroom I don't remember."

"You...only drew a bedroom?"

"Kinda? There were some torn pages, but for the most part it was just the room, plus as few abstractions. Now I draw scenery, like my school's classrooms and courtyards. Though, they're usually dull and gray, which is why I don't draw much."

"Drawing afresh...I see."

"To be honest, I lost hope of drawin' today halfway through the hike, thinkin' neither of us were enjoyin' it. But I think a part of me was still hopeful about seein' something new. Guess I'm a failure in my eyes too."

"Well, I shall remain quiet so as to not distract your artistic creativity. Let me scoot over a bit this way to be out of your way."

"Actually," I faced her, "it's okay. Get closer."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I-I mean, like, you don't have to scoot away. I-I typically draw while listenin' to music, but really I just need some sort of background noise or else I'll shut down. S-So maybe… Y-Y'know..."

I couldn't fully finish my selfish request, but nonetheless, she understood what I desired asking. She reached into her basket and pulled out a tiny, red-plaid blanket with a few ripe apples. She moved the basket behind us and laid the blanket between our cushions, then laid out the apples in a ring and grabbed one.

"Do you mind if...I record from behind us?" she asked. "I want to capture the sunset. You will not be in shot, but I understand if you still do—"

"It's okay," I interrupted, grabbing a red apple from the ring. "I don't mind at all. Here, I'll move this way so you can shift the angle and get a better shot. Maybe I'll even show updates of my drawing."

A piercing crunch entered my ears, and I looked over to see her hand covering her mouth as she chewed. The scarlet apple she held had a sizable chunk bitten from it. There was a faint, upward shift in the corner of my lip.

Returning to my paper, I asked, "You just eat apples to the core like that?"

"Surprised? Most Japanese people never eat their apples like this and elect to peel or cut them instead. I occasionally do the same; I like making rabbit slices."
Another accessory inside the basket was a kitchen knife.
"Do you have a specific cut?"

I finished sketching the clouds. To answer her question, I shrugged.
"I don't really eat apples."

"Did you know some cultures view apples as symbols of knowledge and wisdom? Students like to eat them during cram school and at-home study sessions to prepare for exams. I do the same, it seems to work."

I furrowed my brow.
"What?"

"I can restore your memory with apples. If you eat these more often, mayhaps you can gain the knowledge of life before your accident."
She took another bite with a sly smirk.

I had two choices: Ignore her comical remark or seize the opportunity to make a retort. There was only one answer.
"I've heard that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but uh, I guess it doesn't apply to you."

"That was very rude of you," she said, with her cheeks puffed up to restrain a laugh.
A quick staring contest between us caused a small giggle to leak. I won. But her remark deserved a giggle too.

I asked, "Do you read trivial stuff about apples in your spare time?"

"Every now and then, my mother would tell me a cute piece of apple trivia, whether it was a fact or opinion. I decided to do the same in Souvenirs of Apples. I have learned a lot from her."

That fleeting moment where she reminisced about her mom without melancholy felt to me like she constantly swapped between two different people. To go from reserve to open was rather impressive, at least to me. She surely had experience from somewhere. It made me wonder what criteria she checked off to be diagnosed the same as me.

Maybe instead of appearing at every other jetty like I thought she was doing, she had a boat of her own flowing down the same lava river. My back was still turned and I was still too afraid to turn around, but having her own vessel was a better explanation for her constant presence.

She stared out into the bustling city and said, "The symbolism of apples varies with people, from sin and death to knowledge and health to love. My mother believed it was love, and she wanted me to believe in something personal, but I don't know which belief is most true. I wish I did."

"I'm sure there's a way to deduce it."

"I hope so. Mayhaps I can find the answer by exploring."

As the sun continued to set, she continued to eat and cut apples into bunnies on camera. I ate the slices she gave me while finishing my drawing's left side. An itching question in my mind wormed its way out.
"Why'd you ask me to join this outing, Ringomori-san?"

"Does that surprise you too?"

"You don't seem like the type to go out of your way to socialize. I was even surprised at CLARIS. My impression of you was someone who stayed alone in a classroom, like me, instead of going out to play."

"I see. Sadly, you have proven that you still don't know me. May I ask what's wrong with wanting to sit alone with someone else who wants to sit alone?"

"So, is it because we're similar? A couple of depressed orphans?"

"In a recent study done in the old world, the prevalence of depression among orphans was only a quarter percentage. We're more special than you think."

Not a good kind, I thought.
However, she did have a point. To sail along hell's rivers had requirements, and only we qualified. Still, how did she manage to do it in my hell, and why?

"No matter how similar two people can be, each person faces demons unique to them. Only they can face them, but that doesn't mean you can't support them while they do it. Demons are alone, but you're not a demon, you shouldn't be."

"I guess."

She took a bite of a bunny apple.
"It seems like you're determined to stay unchanged."

"Hmm, are you goin' to finally change? They're only keepin' a close eye on us because of our circumstances. Is that makin' you desire a different perspective on life now?"

"Depends."

On what? I thought, but didn't ask. If she really thought that when decidin' to ask me, then I truly don't know what kind of person she is. Are we similar?
For whatever reason, a part of my min wanted to figure it out. Rivers always lead somewhere, right?

I glanced down at the red apple I had taken and decided to return it to its place nearest her, so it would show on camera. The landscape to my right was outlined completely, and I chose to add a personal touch to it. I showed it to the camera when she wasn't looking, leaving a present for later.

Apples and sunsets mixed well together.

There was a vibration in my pocket. Before I took out my phone, I saw that she'd already taken hers out, then looked at me. Our phones vibrated for the same reason.

"Kaya-san is asking what time we're planning to return."

"You can decide the time, I'll only forget it if it ends with o'clock or thirty."

"You're simply a lost cause."

"Wow, I see how it is. I'll remember that."

"We'll see. Fufu," she giggled.

It was twenty-two past five, but the sun was nearly below the horizon already; classic Hokkaido. There was still a half-hour journey back down the trail, so for safety and convenience, we decided to pack our belongings and leave. After descending, we took the buses and subway back. She asked if I had finished my drawing and I told her I was nearly done, needing a few more finishing touches. We walked and talked about trivial matters as we returned to the orphanage.

We separated into our own rooms without saying a word. I finished my report and turned it in after dinner, never seeing her for the rest of the night. To recharge my drained battery, I laid in bed as background music from the rhythm game played on my phone. That leisure didn't last.

It was almost frightening, I even flinched at the obscure chime that came from my phone. I jolted up and looked at the screen; it seemed I was so exhausted that I even forgot to activate Do Not Disturb. It was a message, a photo, from her. It slipped my mind that we had already exchanged contact details when I first moved.

She sent a photo of her laptop screen that had a moment recorded on her camera, the time I sneakily showed it what I was drawing. She was looking out into the distance, with parts of the trees, city, and sunset acting as the background. It was rare for me to have people in my drawings, so I made sure to detail her side profile better than the rest of the sketch. She then sent a text:

You're a sly worm. I enjoyed our outing; hopefully you did too. Surely enough, it was relaxing and something to always remember. I hope you do.

My initial reaction was thinking about how casual she was over messages, though I figured it was easier behind screens. I melted off my bed onto the floor and groaned.
"Ugh, these mandatory outings are too much. I don't even know if I'll learn anything no matter how many times I do them."

Still, I wasn't dissatisfied with tagging along and decided to let her know as my simple response. I reread her message. Before today, almost every day was copy and paste, so there was hardly anything worth remembering about them. As I lay flat on the hardened floor, staring at the same ceiling, I replayed the day in my mind. From overthinking in the morning to this moment still thinking about it.

Surely enough, it was something I wasn't likely to forget.
Is this how friends are made?
Maybe I can find the answer by exploring.

For once, I was able to sleep without trouble or worry.