Focal Point

RING.

Loud footsteps clambered all around me, the classroom brimmed with the anticipation of the weekend. The relief of surviving another week.

The noise steadily thinned as people began their weekend plans. Loud conversations about karaoke, movie marathons, dates, the excitement carried in their words, even I could tell.

Not like I was going to any of them. I didn’t need to be.

Before I knew it, I was the last student left. Hoshino-sensei filed papers together at his lectern by the blackboard, his crooked red tie and not-so-covert pack of smokes in his jacket pocket meant one thing; He, too, was ready to call it for the week.

Maybe I could sneak away in time–

“Ah, Kurosawa. I need to talk to you for a bit. It’s about the literature club.”

Hoshino-sensei ushered me away from the classroom instead of waiting for an answer. We made our way to the west stairwell, and walked up.

At the top was an old metal door, with a strict “NO STUDENTS ALLOWED” sign plastered to it. Regardless, Hoshino-sensei inserted a small, metallic key into the lock, and unlocked it with a swift click.

He opened the door for me, and let me head through first.

Come to think of it, that was the first time I’d been on the school roof.

It was odd, seeing the yellow-orange sun as it descended beyond the horizon. A sight I’d seen so many times before, from the porch in my apartment.

But from here…

… From here it felt more important.

I could see each of the practice fields for club sports, the gymnasium for the volleyball club, the pool for the swim club, even the tennis courts.

Each of them had students, practicing diligently.

Hoshino-sensei walked through the door soon after I did, and pulled the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket. He walked over to me, standing by the fenced-off edge overlooking the soccer pitch, and lit up a cigarette.

“I thought nobody was allowed up here, so what’s the special occasion?” I chuckled dryly.

He didn’t reply, only sucking back a large puff.

Something about him today was different. Usually he’s more aloof, and clumsy, but right now…

… Right now he’s acting like a real teacher.

“You see those students down there?” He pointed to the soccer club members, passing the balls around.

“You mean the ones wasting their time kicking balls for nothing?” There was no avoiding the sarcasm in that.

He chuckled lightly, then took another puff.

“Yeah, they are wasting their time.”

He turned to face me, and I couldn’t hide my surprise in time. Who could?

“But we all waste time.”

He looked back to the field. The hustle and hard-work the players were putting in is no joke, even under the constantly-lowering sun.

“From down there, we’re the ones wasting time.” He chuckled softly. “Sometimes when I’m grading papers, I think I’m wasting time too.”

“But they won’t look. They’re too occupied with the next goal, the next play, even the next second.” I retorted. He didn’t reply immediately, only producing a half-baked smile after a few seconds.

With one final puff, Hoshino-sensei put the cigarette out, then tucked it in a small case. Probably a portable ash-tray.

“There’s something else, Kurosawa.”

The players moved with decent finesse, their jerseys swaying with each and every movement. There was nothing that could pull their focus, even I could tell that.

“How do you think they ended up there?” He asked me.

How do you think they ended up there? What kind of question is that?

“With their feet?”

Chop.

“Ow!”

Hoshino-sensei chopped the top of my head for that one. I guess I deserved at least one.

“It wasn’t an accident. They decided that’s where they’d waste their time.”

He stepped away slowly, headed for the door. Neither of us said a word. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say to me.

“Lock up when you’re done.”

His voice startled me, but thank god I looked over before he left.

Because he’d thrown something at me. I could see it whistling through the evening sky, like a shooting star. It landed in my hands, somehow.

Its soft metallic ridges, with the dull bronze coating shaved off around the teeth. It looked old, maybe even older than me. On the back, written in black ink was the word ROOFTOP.

My first thought wasn’t “Why did he give me this?” or “Where did he go?”...

… It was to look back out at the field.

It wasn’t intentional. But it still happened.

One of the players sprinted down the field, dribbling the ball the entire way. He made a break for the net, the red-jerseyed team caught off guard.

He passes it across to an open player, then…!

He missed.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, even as I walked to the rooftop door.

The practice continued, and it would have regardless of that shot going in or not. For some reason, that made me understand them even less.

I locked the door behind me, as promised, and decided to head home.

What a complete waste of time.

*

Later that evening, I realized I’d run out of ingredients to make dinner with, so I was forced to improvise.

Ding.

The convenience store door opened slowly in front of me, with the clerk giving me a courteous nod. Faint music and buzzing freezers kept the store from constant silence, and when paired with the fluorescent lights that pulsed overhead… It was nice.

I browsed the aisles for a while, before grabbing a few cups of instant-ramen and a handful of snacks. Enough so I wouldn’t have to come back the entire weekend.

Weekend, huh?

That made me remember the rooftop. At least, most of it.

“It’s about the literature club.”

Thinking back on it, we didn’t mention it a single time. How was it about that?

I placed my things on the counter, and the clerk ran them up without issue. Behind the counter was a fridge, packed to the brim with Ramune. It’d been a while since I had one, so why not.

He added it to my bill, but when I reached in my pocket, instead of being met with a familiar leather feeling, something else was there.

Something metallic.

Once I pulled it out, I remembered.

I never put the key back.

The clerk must’ve thought I was crazy, trying to pay with a key instead of cash. Neither of us knew what to do, and we ended up standing in silence, waiting for the other to move first.

I broke first, and shoved the key back into my pocket and pulled my wallet out.

“Have a nice night.” The clerk handed me my bag, nodding as I walked out the door.

I nodded back.

Ding.

It’s not a big deal. I’ll just give it to him on Monday.

I pulled the key back out. The backlighting from the vibrance inside the corner store reflected poorly on the key’s surface, but it still glowed somehow.

Dark blue and black. That’s what I looked up to see.

The only things breaking up the darkness were some pale-yellow stars and the blue moon.

“How do you think they ended up there?”

Those words still rang in my mind.

They brought back memories.

Memories I’d rather forget.

Nothing happened. It started like any other club, but for one reason or another…

… people stopped showing up.

I knew the room would never feel the same.

But day after day, whether through the windows or the doors….

I looked.

Sometimes I’d grin or smile. Maybe even a slight sense of relief.

Even though I knew how it would end.

…

A bitter taste appeared in my mouth out of nowhere.

I knew that, if nobody showed, then staying would be pointless. It’s just the realistic thing to do.

To wash the bitter taste from my mouth, I grabbed the bottle of Ramune from my bag. Its cool-blue cap, shimmering glass distorting the world behind it, and pearlescent marble that sat alone within were all nostalgic.

Pop.

I took a long sip, and reminisced about the taste.

Street lights flickered, and traffic hummed subtly somewhere out of sight. The type of moment you experience a thousand times over, but only miss when it’s over.

I thought that, maybe someday, I might remember these times.

But that’s for another time, not for walking home.

*

Early Monday morning, I found myself being the first person in class. Usually there’d be at least one person, but without anyone here, it seemed…

…isolated.

The reason I came early was to give the key back, so I placed it on Hoshino-sensei’s lectern at the front of the class.

The metal clacked louder than it should’ve.

He needs to be more careful, someone might end up stealing the key if he just threw it around haphazardly.

Without anything else to do, I figured I might as well sleep at my desk until class starts.

The sun brought a yellow-orange backlighting to the room. The kind that made everything look like it already happened. It made the room feel paused. A place not yet ready to progress.

A huge yawn slipped out from my mouth.

I peered out the window, and saw the waves of people starting their march inside. I thought I’d have more time to myself.

I took another look around the room.

Click.

The photo came out poorly. Inconsistent lighting, unsteady handling, and completely undersaturated.

It was stupid to think it’d turn out any better. Maybe with…

“Why would you need to do something so needlessly difficult? It doesn’t make any sense to…”

The memory trailed, and though it was only a brief moment, my expression had already changed.

A blank expression of acceptance. I could see my own reflection in the window, after all.

Noise started to build in the class, along with the people.

RING.

Hoshino-sensei started teaching, like any other day. Instead of listening, I decided to stare out at the rising sun as it ascended the azure sky.

It was Monday. Again.

No different from the last.

*

“Oh, hey Kurosawa-kun.”

I slid the library door open, and was immediately greeted.

Hayashi-san had already begun sorting books from the return pile. Only five were left, but the cart she’d been pushing probably meant there were more before.

“You’re here early,” She said, a bit surprised “I didn’t think you’d be here for a while.”

I shrugged the unintentional criticism, and headed to my table.

I looked around quickly, and realized something.

It should’ve looked the same, as always.

It didn’t.

The normally-scattered papers were stacked neatly on the main desk, the scattered chairs all tucked into tables.

But I decided not to comment, instead opting for a book I’d brought.

The cart’s wheels stirred the stale air, Hayashi-san pushed it while humming a vaguely familiar tune, covering the usual buzzing of fluorescent lights.

SLIDE.

“So, you’re actually entering?”

Hoshino-sensei slid the door open, shocked.

His tie was still as crooked as ever, though.

“Entering what?”

I could see Hayashi-san as she smirked behind a half-empty shelf.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“I handed in the form last week, after you left!” Hayashi-san emerged, sporting a triumphant look on her face.

Yep, there it was. And that let me figure out the answer.

“... the club showcase.” I stared at the two of them, completely dumbfounded. “Why’d you enter us in that?”

“We’re a club. It’s what clubs are supposed to do.” Hayashi-san answered, without any hesitation.

Why would she do that?

Things were fine like this.

“We don’t have anything to show.” Even I knew that defence was weak.

Hoshino-sensei finally entered the library, and brought with him a faint cigarette smell. He held a piece of paper, and slid across the table to me.

Club Name: Literature Club.

President: Daichi Yamamoto

Vice President: Airi Nishimura

Member: Tsumiki Hayashi

Member:

A single, unfilled line remained below the rest, like an empty desk in the centre of a busy classroom.

Hoshino lied about making me president, which made me quietly chuckle.

Never predictable, are you?

“Just a member?” I tapped my finger on the blank line. Hoshino-sensei shrugged, and feigned ignorance.

“Tiles are mostly for decoration. You’re the one here, aren’t you?”

I felt stuck after hearing that.

The other names, even though I didn’t know them, were written with confidence.

Only mine was empty. It was waiting.

“... do you want me to write it myself?” I asked.

“Everyone else did. Even the ones who haven’t shown up… yet.” He already turned to the door, but that couldn’t hide the slight uncertainty his voice carried.

I looked away from the page for a moment, hoping to settle myself.

But where I found myself was in direct eye contact with Hayashi-san.

“What would we even showcase?” I grabbed a nearby pen,

“Good question… I guess we’ll have to figure that out!” Hayashi-san replied happily.

She seemed to make that choice without a second thought. Without an ounce of regret, or contemplation.

It must be nice.

I clicked the pen in my hand, and brought it to the paper.

I realized at that moment that I could never be like that.

Someone who charged fearlessly into problems, expecting a resolution the first time, every time. People like me, who are uncertain at every turn, think about every ‘what-if’ scenario. We can’t help it.

But just as I’d made my mind up to sign…

… the pen ran out of ink.

“Here, use this.”

Hayashi-san handed me a bright blue pen from her pencil case. The pen felt heavier than any I’d used before, it must’ve been brand new.

It must’ve been.

…

Club Name: Literature Club.

President: Daichi Yamamoto

Vice President: Airi Nishimura

Member: Tsumiki Hayashi

Member: Ren Kurosawa

…

I handed the sheet back to Hoshino-sensei, who’d somehow not left yet.

“That settles that.” He said, faintly smiling at me.

Those three words.

I didn’t like how certain they sounded.

They felt final.