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==============
At the counter of a local bank, a man with black-rimmed glasses silently organized documents.
This was Momota Takejiro, now 27 years old. The once small boy had fully grown into an adult.
"Has it been ten years already..." His hand paused. During university, he studied desperately. He attended a local national university, majoring in economics. It wasn't a famous school, but he put in twice the effort of others there.
"Someday, when I meet Saya-chan again... this time, I'll be able to stand tall." Only that thought propelled him forward. He approached job hunting with seriousness, and his pure ability landed him a position at a local bank.
Butâ
Six months after starting university, the emails, which had initially been once a month, gradually became less frequent, until they stopped completely.
"Why... even after we promised so much?" He inquired, only to find that she had already graduated from the art university. The promise to return to the shrine was never fulfilled either.
"Momota-san," his superior's voice brought his consciousness back to reality. "I'd like to introduce a new employee."
Standing there wasâ
"I'm Asano Rokuro. Pleased to meet you." The man who had broken Saya's brush that day. Why was he here, when he was supposed to be working at a bank in Tokyo?
Rokuro's eyes found Momota. Something seemed to be lurking deep within them.
"It's nostalgic, isn't it, Momota-san?" His voice, beneath its superficial politeness, seemed to carry another meaning.
Outside the window, a spring breeze danced with cherry blossom petals. It was a gentle season, just like the day he saw Saya off ten years ago.
That night, a welcome party for Rokuro was held. The cool spring night air brushed against Momota's cheek. With a slight buzz from the party, he walked beside Rokuro.
"Well, everyone's so kind here," Rokuro was in a good mood. "The atmosphere is much better than banks in Tokyo." His former arrogance was gone. Instead, he seemed oddly self-deprecating.
"I mean, even if an ugly guy like me becomes a banker, I'm not popular at all," Rokuro continued, kicking an empty can. "I've never had a girlfriend. The last time I confessed and got rejected was by Tsukishiro-san in high school."
At that name, Momota's steps halted for a moment.
"Speaking of which," Rokuro suddenly turned back. "Have you heard about Tsukishiro-san?"
"...Nothing." Momota's voice trembled. "Contact stopped after she went to Tokyo."
"Oh really..." Rokuro's tone changed. "Sekine... do you remember him? Sekine Koji."
The image of a boy with thick glasses resurfaced in Momota's memory. A classmate who was always alone, talking only about anime.
"I met him in Tokyo the other day, and he said..." Rokuro paused, choosing his words. "He saw Tsukishiro-san in the red-light district."
"...What?"
"No, that was when he went to a 'soapland' or whatever," Rokuro quickly added. "I don't believe it, though. He's always had strange fantasies."
Memories raced through Momota's mind. That promise from long ago. The future that was supposed to be about pursuing her dream. And thenâthe broken contact.
"Well, it's just a rumor," Rokuro shrugged. "You can't rely on Sekine's stories anyway."
Under the streetlight, Momota stood rooted to the spot. The spring night breeze grew steadily colder.
They sat on a bench in an alley behind a vending machine, holding cans of coffee.
"The other day, I also saw Yamazaki," Rokuro continued. "He's a site manager at a construction company. Apparently, he's a pretty capable boss." Momota listened silently. Yamazaki, who had once physically assaulted him. That name still weighed heavily on his chest.
"Sugimoto-senpai became the sales manager at a real estate agency. He's still as cool as ever," Rokuro chuckled nostalgically. "He has a wife and kids, and he seems like a really good dad."
The spring night breeze blew between them.
"Everyone's become proper adults, huh?" Rokuro took a sip of coffee. "Yamazaki, he used to be such a troublemaker back then. But now, he's a good boss who cares about his subordinates."
Momota harbored complex feelings at those words. Everyone was moving forward. Those who could change, were changing.
"Oh, that's right," Rokuro said, as if remembering something. "I also saw Nakano. The one from the photography club. He's a freelance photographer now."
The present lives of their classmates were recounted one after another. Each had found their path and was walking it.
Momota looked up at the night sky. Deep within his eyes, looking towards Tokyo, something quietly began to stir. An uncertain rumor. But that small doubt had already begun to take root in Momota's heart.
The darkness of memories approaches. Towards the truth of Momota's darkness.
Months later. During lunch break at the bank, Rokuro casually approached Momota's desk.
"Hey, Momota-san," he said, his voice a little lower than usual. "This..."
He offered a plain packet of tissues. But a small slip of paper tucked inside would deeply shake Momota's world.
In the break room, he opened the paper. Printed on it was the name of a 'soapland' (prostitution establishment).
"A reward for your fatigue. Men's SPA Soapland, Nuki Nuki Gakuen."
"They say 'Sara' is their number one nominee," Rokuro's voice seemed to come from a distance. "Sekine's story was true. I... checked last week."
Momota's hand trembled. The photo printed on the card. Her eyes were pixelated. But he knew. Of course, he knew. Because it was the person he had thought about for so long. Without a doubt, it was Saya.
"It's a lie..." A hoarse whisper escaped him.
"At first, I couldn't believe it either," Rokuro continued. "But many people have gone there now. Yamazaki too, and Sugimoto-senpai."
Saya's image in his memory distorted before his eyes. The girl who was supposed to be attending art university, aiming to be a painter. The girl who was supposed to live proudly as the shrine's successor.
"That place is really high-class," Rokuro's voice went on. "They say one nomination easily exceeds 30,000 yen."
Momota's vision gradually darkened. The promise from ten years ago felt like shattering glass, crumbling with a sound.
"Everyone seemed to disbelieve it at first," Rokuro said, choosing his words carefully. "But everyone who went said it. There's no mistake."
The break room during lunch. Under the fluorescent lights, Momota clutched the card.
"Why... why..." The question vanished into thin air. Rokuro began to speak, his expression almost ecstatic.
"It was wonderful..." His voice, carried on the wind, sounded faint. "That Tsukishiro, in front of me... took off her clothes." Rokuro's eyes were moist. "The girl I admired in high school, I never thought..."
Momota's fist trembled. He didn't want to hear it. But he couldn't cover his ears.
"In the private room, she washed my body," Rokuro continued dreamily. "That pure Tsukishiro, sitting on my lap, whispering in my ear..." Each word carved deeply into Momota's heart.
"Everyone keeps it a secret from their wives and girlfriends," Rokuro smiled ecstatically. "But I understand. A dream-like time like that... once you experience it, you can never forget it."
The spring breeze blew between them. In the distance, a crow cawed.
"I've... already been three times." Rokuro's voice grew higher. "It's expensive, but it's worth it. Truly... it was like a dream."
Momota's vision gradually distorted.
"Actually," Rokuro lowered his voice. "Tsukishiro said, 'Don't tell Momota-san.'" At those words, Momota's heart pounded violently. "But I couldn't keep quiet..." Rokuro smiled apologetically. "Because it was just so... wonderful."
The twilight sky grew progressively darker. Within Momota's heart, something began to crumble with a sound. Saya in his memories. The girl in pure miko attire. The dreaming girl painting with her mother's keepsake brush. All of it shattered before his eyes.
"Momota-san..." Rokuro's voice came from far away. "Would you like to go once? Actually..." Rokuro's voice became even more suggestive. "It's already a rumor in the shopping district."
Momota's heart pounded again.
"Yamazaki's dad even goes every weekend. The Yamazaki family is being taken care of by Tsukishiro, father and son." Rokuro continued as if it were someone else's business. "Tsukakoshi-san is also a regular. The owner of that greengrocer, you know?"
"Tsukakoshi-san..." The adult who was supposed to have protected them. The person who saved Saya from Yamazaki's violence. That memory was now distorting before his eyes.
"It's amazing, isn't it? Going every week at that age. I wonder if it's their stamina or Tsukishiro that's amazing." Rokuro said admiringly. The spring breeze blew between them. In that momentary silence, Momota felt a violent surge of nausea.
"Sekine is even more amazing," Rokuro continued relentlessly. "Since he's single, he apparently spends most of his salary. He goes twice a week." Sekine in high school, walking alone, clutching anime merchandise. That image resurfaced in Momota's mind.
"He still looks the same, though, he's fat, greasy, and smells of sweat," Rokuro chuckled softly. "But Tsukishiro is equally kind to everyone. She's really something."
"Equally... kind." Those words carved deeply into Momota's heart.
High school. Saya, standing dignified as the shrine's miko. The girl whose eyes shone with passion as she poured her heart into painting. All of it felt like it was losing its meaning.
"Tsukishiro really knows how to do it," Rokuro's final words resonated as a decisive blow. "Such a pure girl, to think she'd do something like that..."
Momota's fingers, gripping the rooftop railing, had turned white. The spring twilight was gradually being swallowed by darkness.
"I won't believe it... I can make as many fake photos as I want..."
"Rokuro has been a liar since childhood... I don't know how many times I've been hurt by believing his stories..." Momota mumbled, trying to maintain his composure.
============
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