Sengoku Basara 2

“You think it’s about time you told me why you wanted me to come out here?” 

I'm here again. Tatami mats, tax forms, glowing box... Why?

Mom turned the TV off, just as she did the last time. “Why don’t you go outside and play with your friends?”

A little gold cat waved from the counter, then I found myself at the same muddy riverbed. 

"You think he'll pay us this time?" 

"Dunno, that old man better." 

“Chirrrrrr, chirrrrrr, chirrrrrr…”

Everything was the same—cicadas in their treetops, the dumb conversations, the hardware place. I replayed it all with the quiet recognition of someone rewatching an old tape.

Even the cracks in the sidewalk. The mud we walked through, the tears in Souta's sneakers, the smell of sweat from our leaking skin. Was I remembering this? Or reliving it? 

“So can you pay us this time?”

The greasy man handed us the 500 yen. “Split it.”

We returned to the sidewalk, and onwards to our next checkpoint. 

“Do you ever think about how weird it is?” Tohru asked, wiping off the toad slime on his shirt.

"To be paid for empty bottles?" I asked. 

“No,” he said. “To be friends. I mean, think about it. We’re just three random kids who happened to grow up in the same crappy town. If your mom had picked a different place to live, we’d never have met.”

Souta sighed. "What are you on about now, Tohru?" 

"Maybe it's fate," Tohru continued, ignoring the comment. "Maybe everything means something. Even this conversation."

“Maybe," I replied. 

"Of course, that'd mean I'm the main character!" he said. "But that was obvious from the start." 

"Main character of ideocracy, maybe," Souta retorted. 

"Ping-Ping"

The Seicomart. The heaven to the wind outside. 

“What did I tell you boys last time?” the woman behind the counter interrupted. “You can’t just linger here if you have no money.”

“But Nakamura-san, we have money…"

And just like last time, she turned up the TV on the shelf. 

台風6号が四国に上陸、西日本で観測史上最強クラスのおそれ (Typhoon No. 6 has made landfall in Shikoku—possibly the strongest ever recorded in western Japan.) 北海道でも早ければ今夜から影響が出る見込みです (Hokkaido may begin seeing effects as early as tonight.)

“Three Gari Gari popsicles, two melon sodas, one Pocari Sweat… Hey, that’s six yen over.”

“Nakamura-san said we could pay her back next summer,” Souta replied, looking up at the oranging sky. “So what now?”

“Wanna head back to my place?” Tohru proposed. “I just got Sengoku Basara 2. My parents are visiting family in Oita, so we could play all night.”

“And your nosy neighbor?”

Tohru stepped aside to avoid an airborne bag. “To hell with her. We’ll just ignore she exists.”

“Sweet. So, we’re all good then?” Souta asked between us. “Kohei, you up for it?”

I didn't know how, or why, but as I opened my mouth to answer that certain question, within biological machinery, something diverged once more.

"Sure," I said.

Tohru raised an eyebrow. "Wait, seriously?" 

"I think so."

"Alright, Kohei! Let's go then." 

*

I hadn’t meant to go there that night. At least, I didn’t remember choosing it. It felt like a mistake, like I was trespassing into a version of my own life that'd been sealed off. A version that never happened. 

But it was far too vivid; too intact to be manufactured. Like a recording, that'd been archived perfectly, waiting for me to re-enter it at this very moment. 

*

"YUKIMURAAAAAA!" Tohru howled, spinning halberds in a fire tornado. 

"You just like yelling that," Souta said, narrowly dodging a halberd. 

"It is satisfying," I admitted.

Souta snorted from the floor. “You’re fighting for honor and glory. I’m fighting because I hate my guy’s voice actor.”

“Mitsunari?”

“Yeah. Too serious. Sounds like my dad when he’s pissed.”

“He’s loyal.”

“He’s miserable.”

I missed a dodge. My character exploded into the air. “Damn.”

“Told you not to pick Ieyasu,” Tohru said. “You’re too passive.”

Was I?

Souta leaned back against a pillow. “Why’s everyone so obsessed with loyalty in these games? Like, half of them die for nothing.”

“’Cause it’s Japan,” Tohru said. “Dying for someone else is romantic or whatever.”

“That’s stupid,” Souta replied. 

The character on screen let out a victory cry. Another army fell.

"Do you always suck?" Tohru snorted.

"Shut up," Souta remarked. "All you're doing is mashing buttons. I bet art girl could do better."

My ears perked. "Art girl?"

"My upstairs neighbor," Tohru replied, eyes still glued to the game. "What you got a crush on her?" 

"Your neighbor?" 

"Kohei, she literally sits behind us in science," Souta cut in. "You know, the one who keeps sketching the back of your head or something?"

Did she?

"Yeah," Tohru said. "Freaking weirdo." 

That was her?

Tohru paused the game. “Someone get me a drink. I’m dying.”

“Get your own damn drink,” Souta grunted, stretching out like a cat.

I stood. “I’ll go.”'

"Thanks, Kohei!" Tohru grinned. 

"Oh, c'mon man, stop letting people walk all over you," Souta said. 

"Nah, it's alright," I said. "I'm getting a bit thirsty myself." 

I walked to the kitchen, taking a melon soda out of the fridge, then poured a cup of water for myself. 

I noticed that the balcony door had slid open ever so slightly, perhaps from a gust of wind. I wandered to it, then stepped out. 

It was dark now. A coldness had descended, blowing at my skin as I leaned against the rail and took a sip of water. 

Then—clink.

A sound made me flinch. Something fell into my cup. Completely vertical, landing straight into the water. 

A pencil? No, a paintbrush. 

I looked up. 

One floor above, someone else stood at the railing. She'd been listening. 

For a moment, we only stared at each other. She didn't know what to say, neither did I.

Finally, I spoke—

"...Hello."

And she responded—

"...Hey."

I looked down at my cup. The water had turned rainbow. "I think your paintbrush..." 

She blushed. "Yeah... sorry about that..." 

"No, it's fine, really," I responded. "I can come up and give it to you." 

A gust of wind. Cicadas chimed louder.

Above, blonde hair blew wildly in the windswept night.