Distance is Better Than Discretion

I’m scared.

Scared of the future.

Scared of thinking about what comes after this.

Scared of how everyone is so sure of themselves.

So certain that their dreams and ideals will come true that they ignore any signs saying otherwise. That certainty is a simple luxury, reserved for people who refuse to look closer.

For the rest of us, what rests beyond the curtain of adolescence is a quiet, ugly, and uncertain life.

Click.

The soft click stood alone in the warm spring air. Rustling grass, chirping cicadas, and the slow taps of passing footsteps seemed to fade beneath it.

It still feels exactly the same as the day I got it.

But I haven’t found it yet.

Looking at the picture I just took, it wasn’t anything like what I was seeing. The evening sun streaked across the sky, caressing the city and casting a long shadow on the dimmed grass beneath it.

But the rustling grass had distorted the bottom of the frame, creating a weird focal disparity that just… never mind.

With a swift set of clicks, I deleted it. No need for critiques on something I wasn't going to keep.

Another failed photo meant it was time to head back. The mellow evening sky was fading to a deep, starless black anyway.

For people like me, uncertainty is… well… unavoidable.

I hadn’t memorized the area completely, but I was pretty sure I could find my way back. Squinting at street signs every now and again let me stay on the right course.

Probably.

I passed one house.

Then another.

Then another.

It was strange, how familiar everything could feel when you stop paying attention to it.

By the time I got to my apartment building, the sun had all but disappeared behind the busy skyline of the nearby city, and the night sky had completely spread itself across the horizon.

A few flights of stairs later, I reached the third floor.

I walked past a couple doors before stopping in front of mine.

Kurosawa

The nameplate still looked new.

Inserting the key into the lock, I twisted it unlocked and opened the door.

No extra pairs of shoes, no dinner waiting for me. Just the constant hum of the old A/C unit cycling air around the place.

Nothing new.

As I placed my camera on a small table near the entrance, my calendar brought a subtle reminder of what’s to come.

Second year starts tomorrow. Some would say a fresh start.

More would say it’s another step to autonomy.

But in my opinion, it’s a formality. After this, we’re all cast into the vast unknown behind the curtain.

That thought stuck in my head, long after I’d finished cooking myself dinner. It wasn’t much to look at, but eating something you make yourself brings its own kind of satisfaction.

Even if there was nobody around to share it with.

From my seat in the kitchen, I could see the faint purple sunset peeking through the curtains, fluttering rhythmically to the waves of air from the A/C.

I couldn’t help but stare from here, and I continued watching it shift as I finished eating.

Then a thought crossed my mind.

What was it about the sunset that people liked to see? Why is it that they look forward to it, when they know it’s always there?

Maybe they saw it as an excuse to move forward.

                                                                                       *

Yellow-orange light broke through the curtains, waking me up the next morning. It illuminated the whole room, like it brought life to an otherwise motionless room.

This school year started like the last, no first day jitters or unnerving anticipation. Just the melancholic feeling of social re-acclimation.

Not like I’d need to face the brunt of it, anyway.

I’d put on my uniform, the same soft black color with red accents. Only this time, I had to replace the pin on my collar from a single, stainless steel arrow pin to a double-arrow design.

From this day on, I am a second-year student.

The uniform was still from first year, being tight in all the wrong places.

Putting on my shoes, I decided to stop in front of the mirror by my door.

The morning light coming through the frosted window barely reached me. Most of it seemed to disappear into my hair.

Black.

Dull.

That’s what it looked like, at least.

I tried parting it down the middle, combing the sides apart with my hands in the half-assed attempt.

For a few seconds, I stared at myself. People always made this style look better, more popular. Instead, my bangs looked like they were attempting to fight each other.

So I gave up.

Even in the stillness of the morning, I stood alone in my foyer dressed in my second-year uniform.

Ren Kurosawa.

Second Year.

Somehow, seeing it in the mirror didn’t make it feel any more real.

On the table below the mirror was something that caught my attention. My camera, which I’d left there yesterday. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to bring it–

“Now’s not the time to be special.”

I stared at the camera for another moment, before deciding to leave it on the table. Then I headed out to school.

Passing through streets and winding pathways had become a part of my routine last year, giving me a glimpse at the morning sun as it climbed higher in the sky. A trademark of a new day.

After some walking, I finally made it to the school gates. I squinted to read the sign, making sure it was the right place. Sure enough, it was.

Inside, there was a mob of people hoarded around bulletin boards. I’m sure each of them was nervous, scared, excited, or all the above about the new school year. Whatever they were looking for, I wasn’t interested.

Besides, I already knew where I needed to go.

I walked through the halls, each step slowly fading into the ambient noise of the school. The room that I’d be staying in for this semester quickly came up.

Classroom 2-C was mostly empty, so I used this opportunity to claim a seat before anyone else could.

See, that’s the thing about reaching the absolute lowest you can on the social ladder. There are no obligations, expectations, or repercussions. It’s nice.

As I unpacked my bag, I took note of the classroom around me. Lingering dust in the air, illuminated by the rising sun. Indistinct chatter of classmates, some catching up, others introducing themselves. All of it collided to create the atmosphere.

Half of the matte-green chalk board was lit up from the sun, revealing previous writings. They looked like ancient history now.

Not long after that, more people shuffled into class, gradually filling the remaining seats with people. Filled with people that aren’t quite acquaintances, but not strangers either. They were nothing more than classmates.

The bell rang.

Second year officially started.

And so did the cycle.

Not long after the bell rang, a familiar face walked in. His crooked tie, partially tucked shirt and faint scent of cigarette smoke was out of place for a teacher, but somehow nobody seemed to mind.

The frames of his glasses were worn down, their black faded from the matte finish they’d originally had.

“Everyone, please find a seat.” He said as he fixed his tie.

“Welcome to class 2-C. I’m your homeroom teacher for the year, Mr. Hoshino.”

He wrote his name on the blackboard behind him, and got straight to explaining the school year and what’s to be expected of second years.

                                                                                      *

“Kurosawa-san, do you have a moment?”

“I got nowhere else to be, sure.”

Besides, after all his rambling I might as well be a bit courteous. We both waited around for a few minutes, until the room was completely empty.

“So what’d you want to talk to me about, Hoshino-sensei?”

He took a deep breath, then faced the blackboard.

“... I take it you’re staying in the Literature club this year?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” I retorted. I mean, what kind of question is that?

Then he faced me, with a semi-caring but also disinterested look.

“I’m the club advisor this year. You guys better actually do things this year.”

He’s the club advisor? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but…

The literature club last year wasn’t exactly a club, at least after the first semester. Something between a student and a previous advisor. I never bothered learning the details.

After that, attendance wasn’t mandatory, and everyone in the club stopped showing up. That is, if there was anyone still left in it.

It wasn’t so much a club as it was a placeholder.

“Starting tomorrow, participation is mandatory for the club activities. I’ll know if you don’t show up.”

Hoshino’s face started to glow, oddly.

“What’s so fun about that?” I thought. I chuckled at the irony.

“What was that?”

He must’ve heard my thoughts.

“Nothing, sensei.”

Neither of us bothered to fill the awkward air lingering between.

Both of us slightly chuckled, lightening the mood back to the status quo.

“Now that that’s done, we just need to talk to the third year…” He trailed off. He might’ve kept rambling, like he usually does, but I stopped listening after that point.

Something about this moment caught my eye. The setting sun’s rays had cast a shadow on half of Hoshino’s face, but illuminated the other half.

If only…

If only I could reach out and grab that setting sun, and move it somewhere else.

It’s a crazy thought, I know. People say reaching for the stars is a waste of time.

Maybe it is.

But most people fail to raise their hand.

At that moment, I felt my hand instinctively move. Before it had a chance to do anything, it stopped, and went back to resting at my side.

“... but that’s about it. Just show up, alright?” Hoshino-sensei’s voice was quiet, and very polite. The half-baked smile on his face took away from that, but that’s just who he was.

Without answering, I made my way out the door. But not before getting the final word in.

“Sure thing.” I waved over my shoulder, turning down the empty halls.

Even after I left, I could still feel Hoshino-sensei’s eyes.

They didn’t feel oppressive, or pitiful.

Just… concerned.

Why?

                                                                                           *

That evening, I found myself sitting on the porch of my apartment. The sky was blanketed by a soft yet deep blue, stars arbitrarily scattered throughout.

I found it oddly funny, how the stars never seemed to get closer. They just floated aimlessly through the sky, without a care in the world.

It must be confusing, to be a star.

To be sought after by so many, yet never truly reachable. To be admired and neglected by countless eyes, and to be different to everyone who sees you.

I chuckled at how philosophical I was getting. Well, whatever. It’s not like there’s anyone around to hear it.

The sky had shifted into a monochromatic blue, a twilight between evening and night, neither quite ready to begin or end.

There was nothing in that moment but the quiet hum of a city on the brink of sleep, within the sea of an indecisive sky.

I prepared my camera, centering the lens on the sky itself, with the city being nothing but peripheral filler.

That single moment, once captured, will always rest in the past.

Click.

“Tch.”

There’s no need for a photo like this. There’s just too much…

I sighed in disappointment, and headed back in for the night.

In bed that night, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking. Not about anything in particular, but enough to keep me awake.

Through the curtains in my room, I could just barely make an image out.

A single star, shining defiantly.

I don’t quite understand what captivated me about it.

It was just a star. Alone, and drifting.

The longer I stared at it, the less I understood myself.

It must be tiring, having to shine so brightly. To drift the same path, time and time again, without any true need.

Sure, some people define meaning to these motions, but they’re truly meaningless in the grand scheme of things. They move because they have to. They shine because that’s what they do.

A final thought crossed my mind before dozing off.

“Why would anyone want to be like that?”

*

A few days later, I found myself in a bit of a situation.

Normally, I’d eat my lunch in the classroom, and most people would eventually leave and eat somewhere else.

But for some reason, that didn’t happen today.

“Have you heard about Shiki-kun?”

“OMGGGG, yess!”

“He’s, like, such a dirtbag!”

“What about Hikari-chan? Did anyone talk to her about this?”

They’d found my spot. Well, it’s not exactly ‘my spot’ but… you know?

It was like they’d never run out of things to talk about. Don’t they know how to eat in peace? The growing chatter was getting to my head, mostly my ears, so I decided to find a new spot to eat.

I walked around the halls, thinking of possible places, when it finally hit me.

The library.

…

When I slid the library door open, I was welcomed by the sweet sound of silence. The room looked undisturbed, frozen in time since–

I set my lunch on a lone table far off in the corner. It’s a perfect place, so why wouldn’t anyone come here?

Lifting my eyes, that thought was immediately contradicted.

There was someone a few tables down, doing the same thing I am.

Before I realized it, I was staring. Observing every detail.

Her golden blonde hair reflected the mid-day light, spanning just above her shoulders. Her aquamarine eyes bent the light unnaturally around them.

Even though her bangs covered her eyebrows for the most part, their thin blond outline framed her narrow eyes, bringing a nice depth and contrast.

The collar of her shirt had the same two-arrow pin I had. I’d like to think I’d at least seen everyone in the same year as me, but something about her is…

She suddenly looked up.

She looked right into my eyes, and I looked into hers reactively.

I pulled my eyes away instantly. How could I not? I was totally staring, but it’s not like that!

My legs shifted in my chair as I tried averting my gaze out the window, scrambling to keep at least my dignity until lunch ended.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

Clack.

Her reflection moved to the empty seat across from me.

She didn’t start talking, though. She just continued eating her lunch quietly, like she was doing before.

Is this some sort of power move to inch me out of a seat? I know high school can get pretty wild, but territory disputes, seriously?

I tried settling my nerves with a deep breath, and thinking back to the basics.

Of course, how could I forget the basics? The ‘three S’s of survival!

Sit up.

Stay away.

And stop thinking about it.

After that, we both ate in silence until she eventually finished hers.

She gave a courtesy bow as she left, then scurried quickly out the door. What a confusing girl.

I finished mine not long after, but stayed for a while. There was something keeping me from leaving. Something about that sight that drew my eyes in.

It reminded me of that star.

I shook my head, trying to erase the thought.

That’s when I saw it.

A newly purchased student handbook. Either that or the owner kept it polished, which (let’s be honest) nobody does.

It was where she was sitting.

Curious, I grabbed it.

Tsumiki Hayashi.

Second Year.

Class 2-F.

I peeked at the clock.

There was some time left.

So, I slid the closed handbook into my pocket, packed my lunch, and left the library. 2-F’s on the way to 2-C, so it’s not much of a detour.

On my way back, I was reminded about why I stayed in the classroom during lunch.

The overwhelming crowd filled each and every corner of the hallway. It was impossible to find anyone, or anywhere right now.

Somehow, after continuously running into the shoulders of strangers and half-baked apologies, I made it to Class 2-F.

I scanned the room for a moment, eventually finding her desk. It was near the back of the room, and closer to my homeroom. Perfect.

I tried my best to covertly place the handbook on her desk without being noticed. At least, I thought I did.

A hand grabbed the back of my sleeve as I dropped it on the desk.

“Thank you…?”

She was trying to get my name from this. Luckily, I have a solution.

“No problem.”

I tried walking away again, but her voice stopped me this time.

“You were staring at me.”

“Was not.”

“You were tilting your head!”

“It’s just the way I stand.”

I managed to find a break, and took it. She reached a second time, but thankfully missed.

That concluded my short, and fruitless day…

… Is what I wish I could say.

                                                                                       *

The final bell rang, so I packed my things into my bag.

I made the mistake of accidentally looking at Hoshino-sensei, which told me everything I needed to know.

It was club day. Again.

Not like I had anything better to do anyway. So I walked to the library ahead of time.

It stayed empty, just how I left it. Stagnant air and lack of motion.

How long would it stay like this? That thought bounced in my head, refusing to lose momentum.

I noticed there was nobody else around, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. It was a dead club, with ‘third years’ which Hoshino-sensei conveniently couldn’t find and no president.

It smelled suspicious to me. Hoshino-sensei was definitely doing something.

“Introducing the newest member of the literature club…!” Hoshino’s familiar voice ominously exclaimed from behind the shut library door.

I looked over without much care.

Then the door slid open.

Aquamarine eyes. Vibrant-blond hair. Thin, blond eyebrows.

It was her.

“... she’s also new to the school… Tsumiki Hayashi-san! Take good care of her, Kurosawa.”

It was like the air began to move again, reaching every corner of the room.

I wasn’t ready for this. The words left my lips before I could process them.

“Territory dispute?”

I covered my mouth quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough to stop it.

“What?”

“What?”

                                                                                   *