Cracks in the Mask

Natsuki watched the unchanging, unending city through the window of the train as it chugged along its track westward. As the train rumbled on and the commercial areas of downtown gave way to thickly-settled residential areas, apartment complexes and homes appeared below go her, but she paid them no mind.

A short walk out from the train station later, Natsuki arrived at the Harada residence. Mitsuko lived in an apartment complex just about the same size as Natsuki's. The one major difference was that Mitsuko’s parents would be home. Natsuki’s parents were still out on their work assignment - they were college professors researching somewhere in America - but Mitsuko’s mom always stayed at home.

She made good use of her time, though. She could make a mean thing of spaghetti. Natsuki actually felt her stomach rumble for the first time in forever as she pictured the strands of noodles and diced tomatoes mixed together.

Natsuki walked up the stairs to the higher floors of the apartment. In the back of her mind, she knew she would have a great city of the city from up this highway, the cityscape stretching outwards until it reached the horizon, but she kept her eyes on her shoes.

Mitsuko sounded a little worried over the phone. And Mitsuko never worries.

Natsuki wiped her face. Did something happen to her? Maybe she told me, but I never listened. Or maybe she told me through her body language and tone of voice, but I never paid attention.

Rubbing her eyes from exhaustion, Natsuki arrived at the door to the Harada’s and rang the doorbell.

The pleasant sight of Mrs. Harada greeted her. “Ah, Natsuki!” she greeted. Mitsuko and her mother both had dark hair, but the similarities ended there - Mrs. Harada stood tall and always carried a cheerful tone in her voice. “Please, come in!”

Natsuki smiled and did as instructed. As she entered, she gently took off her loafers. “Pardon the intrusion-”

Natsuki had been to Mitsuko’s place enough times to know the layout of her apartment. Mrs. Harada loved to decorate and make improvements to her home. The family used a set of silverware bought from an antique shop up in Sendai; paintings purchased in thrift shops hung from the walls. Crude drawings produced during Mitsuko’s early days covered their fridge, along with photos from her first day of elementary, middle, and high school. Though Mitsuko grew taller, her expression never changed - a blank face with thick glasses standing in front of falling cherry blossoms.

Since it had been a while, Natsuki looked forward to poking some fun at her best friend about the photos.

But she caught her breath. The photos were gone. The fridge was empty. The walls were empty. The silverware wasn’t set out as usual. Outside of a pot of spaghetti boiling on the stove, the apartment was completely empty.

Well, there was one other thing there. A whole lot of them, actually - boxes. Boxes and boxes piled on top of one another neatly. Natsuki refused to believe the words printed across them.

MIYAZAWA MOVING COMPANY.

“The spaghetti will be ready soon,” Mrs. Harada said obliviously. “Mitsuko’s out right now. She went to the store to buy some snacks for you guys, but she should be back soon.”

Back soon. The moving boxes indicated otherwise.

“Umm, Mrs. Harada…”

Mitsuko’s mother suddenly grew more formal. Without any further ado, she looked upon Natsuki with gratefulness in her eyes.

“Natsuki, thank you for taking care of Mitsuko these past few years,” she said.

Stop that. Why are you talking like this is it?

“Don’t tell her I said this to you, but Mitsuko talks about you all the time,” Mrs. Harada continued. “I was so worried when Mitsuko didn’t make any friends her first month at school here. But, one day, she came home talking about you. You know her way of talking - she said that you reminded her of a newborn deer.”

Hey, cut it out...

“But Mitsuko was very much like a doe, too. We moved around a lot when she was young. You’re the best friend she’s ever had. Thank you for everything.”

When Mrs. Harada bowed, Natsuki felt like the walls were closing in on her. Struggling for air, she stumbled backwards, her back hitting the closed door behind her.

“When…when are you guys moving?” Natsuki asked timidly.

Mrs. Harada straightened out and tilted her head. “She didn’t tell you? We leave-”

….......

So hot. Since the summer sun remained in the sky so late in the day, the city felt like an oven cooker. It could be unbearable sometimes. Nevertheless, Natsuki didn’t want to remain inside an apartment that was nearing the end of an era. She left and made her way to a small park near the apartment complex. It merely consisted of a few slides and swings and was empty most of the time.

Natsuki was its only current inhabitant, sitting idly on a swing. She tried to remain still, since every small movement made the rusty swing creak. She rested her hands in her palms. The weight of the world pressed down on her.

Natsuki heard approaching footsteps and turned her head. Mitsuko walked slowly toward her, a plastic convenience store bag in one hand.

“I got home, but you were gone,” Mitsuko said as she arrived. She set the bag down on the ground and sat on the swing next to Natsuki’s. “My mom said you would be here.”

Natsuki just nodded. She kept her eyes on the ground.

“Did you see the weather report this morning?” Mitsuko asked. She kicked her feet a little, making her swing move a tiny bit. “They say there’s no end in sight for the heat wave. It’ll be here for at least a few weeks.”

“You won’t be here in a few weeks,” Natsuki mumbled. The words strung her more than they did Mitsuko.

Mitsuko just nodded. “Yeah…guess you’re right.”

The two girls sat there in silence. Cicadas called out to another.

“When did you realize you were moving out?” Natsuki asked, gripping the chains to the swing tightly.

Mitsuko stopped swinging. “When the semester started.”

Everything from the past month that Natsuki previously repressed - the stress, the exhaustion, the jealousy, the confusion, the emptiness - finally exploded.

“So why did you wait until today to tell me you were moving out this Sunday?!”

Mitsuko didn’t answer for a moment.

“Isn’t it funny,” Mitsuko supposed, looking toward the edge of the park. “You’ve never been angry like that before. I’ve never pleaded with you before. We’re doing a lot of things for the first time right before I move out.”

Natsuki kept quiet, simmering below the surface.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Mitsuko finally said. The softness in her voice made Natsuki glance over towards her; the deadpan, blank expression remained on Mitsuko’s face, but it seemed more like a mask now. “Remember how I pushed you to join a club at the start of the year? I was worried that once I left, you would go back to having no friends.”

She took off her glasses and wiped them down with a handkerchief. “And you were so happy with your writing, I didn’t want to make you feel down by telling you. And then you got so stressed, I didn’t want to make things worse for you. And well…the days go by. Here we are. I couldn’t let it go any longer. Maybe telling you during finals week was the worst thing I could’ve done. But here we are.”

Natsuki discovered so many new feelings this semester. This newest one was rage. Not blind rage, but once mixed with heartbreak. It made you speak without thinking.

“Why are you pushing everything on to me?!” Natsuki exclaimed.

Mitsuko’s mask started to crack.

Natsuki’s hands trembled, shaking the swing’s chains. “Saying it was all for my sake - what kind of answer is that?!”

Mitsuko didn’t put her glasses back on.

Natsuki seized up. She looked back down at the ground because she didn’t want to see her friend crying.

“Maybe it was for my own sake,” Mitsuko said, quiet tears moving down her face. “I didn’t want things to change between us. By not bringing it up, maybe I could pretend that it didn’t exist.”

By looking towards the ground, Natsuki could avoid seeing her friend cry. There wasn’t much she could do about hearing it, though.

“I’m so scared, Natsuki. I’m moving to Hokkaido. You know how far away that is. It’ll be so long before I see you again. I won’t know anybody up there. I’m not good at making friends. That’s why I’m so glad you stuck around with me, Natsuki. You made me realize how lonely I was. And then you helped me stop feeling lonely. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

Natsuki’s grip on the chains loosened.

What kind of friend am I? Mitsuko’s the one moving away, yet I’m only focusing on my own feelings right now. All I have to face is missing my best friend - yet she’ll have to deal with that and the move to a whole new place, too.

Mitsuko’s sniffles and sobs echoed around the park. Unsure of what to do, Natsuki started rubbing her friend’s back.

Mitsuko wiped her eyes and gave Natsuki a weak smile.

“Thanks, Natsuki. Please…you can leave your hand there for a while.”

….......

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for reading the story! I really appreciate all the kind words and feedback you’ve given me. I never thought this story would receive so much attention. It started off as a fun idea, but the characters and setting really grew on me. To be honest, I wrote more about this story than I expected. It’s been a great growing experience and I’ve learned a lot along the way.

Unfortunately, I think I’ll have to end it here. Real life gets in the way sometimes, unfortunately. As much as I love writing this story, between school and writing, I’m beat. I noticed my writing quality getting worse simply because I’m too tired to write at full strength. I’ve been trying to post multiple times a week, but I’ve finished my backlog and to be honest once again, I don’t have anything left in the tank right now.

Is this the end of the story? For now, at least. But who knows? Maybe I’ll pick it up again sometime in the future. I really do love all these characters. But I just need a break and maybe focus on myself for the time-being. Sorry to disappoint everyone who’s given me support along the way.

This isn’t the end of my writing, though. I’ll be back - whether it’s this story or another one remains to be seen. But, hopefully, I’ll be back to writing soon enough. We shall see.