少年Childhood

　借りてきた鍵で教室の扉を開けると、独特のニスの香りが少年を包んだ。この前、塗り直されたばかりの床は、窓から差し込む光に反射して黄色く輝いていて、なんとなく教室全体を暖かそうな色に染めていた。

　少年はジャンパーを脱いで自分の机の上に置くと、教室を見回した。少し前までは同級生の誰かがいて騒がしい教室だったはずなのに、今の時間の教室はみんな帰ってひっそりとしていた。

　職員室にはまだ先生たちがいるはずなのだが、ここにいると何の物音も聞こえなかった。自分の息の音すら耳障りに聞こえるほどだった。

　忘れ物は普通に教室のロッカーの中にあった。保護者に渡さなくてはいけない大事なプリントを、少年はなぜかランドセルの中ではなく、教室の後ろのロッカーに入れていたのだった。その提出期限が連休明けなのを思い出したのが家についてからで、少年はわざわざ一人でまた学校まで歩いて戻って来たのだった。

　どこか遠くで車のエンジンがかかる音がする。カラスが鳴いている。

　ふと思いついて少年は息を潜めながら、窓際に行き、カーテンの隙間に身体を寄せた。今朝のテレビの天気予報によると、夜から雨が降るということだった。けれども、いまはまだそんな気配はなかった。

　あの子もよくこんな風に、机に座りながらカーテンの下に頭を入れて、外を眺めていた。少年は自分が立っている場所の少し前に彼女の机があったことを思い出した。窓際の一番後ろが彼女の机の場所だった。

　引っ越すからその席になったのか、あるいは出席番号がたまたまその席だったのか、少年にはその理由は分からなかったが、確かなのは三ヶ月前まではあの子の机はまだそこにあり、あの子がこうして少年の前から消えてしまうまでは、そんなことが起こるなんて考えもしなかった。

　あの子が消えてから三ヶ月、というのを少年はどうとらえていいか分からなかった。長すぎるのか短すぎるのか、もうクラスのなかで彼女のことを口にするものは誰もいなかった。引っ越しした当初は、彼女のことをひそひそと噂していた意地の悪い女子たちも、もう彼女には興味をなくしたようだった。

　窓から見下ろすと、誰もいない茶色いグラウンドが見えた。その向こうは駅前のビルで、特徴を挙げることすらもできないぐらい普通の光景だった。その何もないところが少年には物足りなかった。

「忘れないで」とあの子は言った。「向こうから必ず手紙書くから、住所教えて」

　あの子は確かにそう言ったのだった。あれは教室ではなく、同じ理科係として、理科準備室まで授業の用具を取りにいったときだった。あの子は最初から少年に何を言うか決めていたに違いなく、準備室の前の廊下で、小さなピンク色のメモ帳みたいな紙と鉛筆を差し出して、住所を書くように伝えた。

　彼は書いた。

　受け取ったメモ帳を見て、彼女ははっきりと物足りなそうな表情を見せた。もしかすると彼女が喜ぶような気の利いた言葉でも書ければ良かったのかもしれないが、十一歳の少年にはそんなことはできかねた。

「住所、書いたから」とだけ彼は言葉を添えた。「これで届くよ」

「うん」と彼女は言った。「ありがとう」

「引っ越すの？」

「そう、お母さんがおばあちゃんの家に帰るって。うち、もうお父さん戻って来ないからさ」

　時間にしても数分のことだったが、こうして二人きりでいると、なんとも落ち着かない気分がして、どちらからともなく歩き出した。休み時間の終わりを告げるチャイムが鳴って、もう教室に戻らなくてはいけなくなったときには、二人ともほっとした。

　彼女が他県に引っ越したのは夏休みの終わりで、それは新学期になって担任から伝えられた。少年はもうそれを知っていたから驚くことはなかったが、手伝いの伯母が帰って、家で父と二人になったとき、あの子の引っ越し先についてそれとなく父に聞いてみると、彼女の新しい家は少年の住む街からは３００キロほど離れていた。

　車で行けばだいたい６，７時間ってところだな、と父は言った。

　一週間経っても彼女から手紙は来なかった。来たら必ず返事を書くつもりだったが、それが二週間になり、三週間になっても来ないと分かると、変な気がした。

　少年は約束を守る性格だった。偏屈な父から、一度他人と交わした約束は必ず守るもんだ、と教えられて育ったので、もしも少年が誰かとそういう約束をしたなら、彼は絶対に返事の手紙を送るつもりだった。

　彼女がからかっていたとは思えない。でも、彼女の引っ越し先を担任に尋ねてみることや、その相談を親に言うこともできかねた。その違和感は抜こうとしても抜けないトゲのように、少年の心の中に食い込んで、時々ふっとしたときに現れた。

　そういうとき少年は彼女の姿を思い出した。

　教室にいたときデニム地のスカートを履いていたこと、同じ理科係として二人で実験の準備をしたこと。まっすぐでつやつやした髪の毛や、猫を思わせるような特徴的な大きな目など。普通にクラスにいたときには、そこまで彼女を意識したことはなかったのに、今こうやって彼女がいなくなってから、あれこれと彼女のことを思うのは変な話だった。

　毎日の授業があり、宿題が出た。放課後のクラブ活動があり、年末までに男友達とのちょっとした喧嘩が二回あった。代わり映えのないようで、それでも進んで行く日々があり、相変わらず少年には手紙は来なかった。

　そのどこかの日で少年は彼女に腹を立てた。

　自分の気持ちをかき回すだけかき回して、そのまま無視してしまうなんて、ひどいのではないかと考えた。彼女はもしかしてそういう人間だったのかもしれない、と無理に思うようにもしてみた。けれども、心のどこかでやはりそうは思えない自分がいて、それはいつまでも結論がつかなかった。

　きっと何か手紙が届かない理由があったのだ。結局、少年にできることは家に帰ってすぐに郵便受けを確認することぐらいだった。手紙はなく、そこにあるのは父親あてのつまらないＤＭや請求書ばかりだったが、新しい少年のその習慣を、何も知らない父や伯母は褒めた。

　少年が彼女の名前をふたたび聞いたのは、大学生になってからだった。

　学部に入学してきた女の子が彼女と同じ名前なのをたまたま知ったのだった。まさかと思って声を掛けてみたら相手は笑い出した。

　話してみて別人だと分かった。名字まで一緒だったが、そもそも名前の漢字が違っていた。あの子の名前は「菜摘」だったが、大学の彼女は「奈摘」だった。それに彼も彼女も西日本の生まれだったが、彼女は関東の生まれだった。

　どうでもいい一致だったが、ふたりの通っていた小学校の名前は同じだった。ふたりの故郷の街にはどちらにも城があり、小学校はその東にあった。それだけでもふたりが近づくには充分だった。

 一回別れたあと、２８歳でまた奈摘と付き合いだし、少年は彼女と結婚した。子どもがふたり生まれた。どちらも男の子で、上の子は少年に、下の子は奈摘に似ていた。

　４０歳になった時、少年は上の子を連れて彼が通う小学校に行った。夏休みのあいだだけ絵画教室があって、奈摘がそこに上の子を通わせたいと言っていたのだった。

　彼女が仕事に出かけているあいだ、たまたま休日だった彼は息子を連れて絵画教室にいった。その一時間半の授業のあいだ、元少年は息子が絵を描くのを教室の端で眺めたり、小学校の中を見て回ったりした。

　この小学校にも理科準備室があり、彼が通っていたときと同じように、木製の古い棚や、手製の実験器具が並んでいた。反対側の廊下の窓からはグラウンドが見えた。

　４０歳を超えて、元少年はもう自分には何も残っていないような気がしていた。

　仕事も家族も何も問題はなかったし、いわゆる幸せというものがあるなら、自分が手にしているものがそれかもしれなかった。ただなんとなく、もう自分の人生は、大きな山を越えてしまって、取り返しのつかないところまで来てしまった気がした。

　これから先、勤務先での役職が与えられたり、自分が病気になったり、妻の両親の介護があったりと、できごとに不自由することはないに違いなく、いま感じている気分のように人生がそんな単純に割りきれるものではないのは分かっていた。

　ただ、元少年は少し疲れていた。

　今までの自分の生き方を振り返っても、願ったものはどれも手に入れた途端に違ったものになっているような感じだった。何をしても、何を手に入れても、それは必ず消えていくし、それを知っていて日々を過ごすことは何か寂しいものだった。

　でも、それを家族の前で口に出すことははばかられたし、彼は我慢強い方だった。もしかしたらこの前、一年半闘病を続けていた父が亡くなったことも関係しているのかもしれなかった。

　ふと、あの子のことを思い出した。あの子はきっと自分の家のことを知っていた。

優しさには年齢など関係なかった。手紙だってやっぱり書くつもりだったのだろうといまは思えた。

　きっと何か、彼のうかがいしれない何かがあったのだ。理屈を付けて彼女を嫌うよりも、この歳になれば、その優しさの方を信じたかった。その彼女の気持ちが、いろんなものとつながって、ここまで自分を動かしてきたようにも思えた。

　もし生きているなら、あの子が幸せになってほしいとやっと彼は思えた。

When he opened the classroom door with the borrowed key, the boy was enveloped in the distinctive smell of varnish. The floor, which had just been repainted, shone yellow as it reflected the light coming in through the window, somehow giving the entire classroom a warm color.

The boy took off his jumper, put it on his desk, and looked around the classroom. A little while ago, the classroom had been noisy with his classmates there, but now it was quiet with everyone gone.

The teachers were supposed to still be in the staff room, but he couldn't hear a sound here. Even the sound of his own breathing was harsh to his ears.

His forgotten belongings were in his classroom locker as usual. For some reason, the boy had put an important paper that he needed to give to his parent in his locker at the back of the classroom, rather than in his school bag. It was only when he got home that he remembered that the deadline for submitting it was after the holidays, so he made the effort to walk back to school by himself.

He could hear the sound of a car engine starting up somewhere in the distance. A crow was cawing.

Suddenly, the boy thought of something, and holding his breath, went to the window and leaned his body against the gap in the curtains. According to the weather forecast on TV this morning, it was going to rain starting tonight. However, there was no sign of that just yet.

The girl often did this, sitting at her desk with her head under the curtains and looking out the window. The boy remembered that her desk had been a little in front of where he was standing. Her desk was at the very back by the window.

The boy didn't know why she had gotten that seat because she was moving, or if her attendance number just happened to be there, but he did know that up until three months ago, her desk had still been there, and he had never thought something like that would happen until she had vanished like this.

The boy didn't know how to interpret the three months since the girl had disappeared. Whether it was too long or too short, no one in his class was even talking about her anymore. The mean girls who had been whispering about her when she had first moved seemed to have lost interest in her now.

Looking down from the window, he could see a deserted brown school ground. Beyond that was a building in front of the station, a scene so ordinary that it was hard to even pick out any distinctive features. The boy was not satisfied with the nothingness of the place.

"Don't forget," the boy said. "I'll definitely write you a letter, so give me your address."

That boy had certainly said that. It wasn't in the classroom, but when they went to the science preparation room to get some supplies as fellow science staff. The boy must have decided what he was going to say to the boy from the beginning, and in the hallway in front of the preparation room, he handed him a small pink notepad-like piece of paper and a pencil and told him to write his address.

He wrote.

Looking at the notepad she received, she looked clearly dissatisfied. Perhaps he could have written something clever to make her happy, but an eleven-year-old boy couldn't do that.

"I wrote the address," he added, and that was all. "It'll arrive now."

"Okay," she said. "Thank you."

"Are you moving?"

"Yes, Mom is going back to Grandma's house. Dad isn't coming back."

It was only a few minutes, but being alone like this made them feel uneasy, so they started walking away one by one. When the bell rang to signal the end of recess and they had to go back to the classroom, they both felt relieved.

She had moved to another prefecture at the end of summer vacation, and her homeroom teacher had told her when the new semester began. The boy already knew this, so he wasn't surprised, but when his aunt came back and he was alone with his father at home, he casually asked his father where she was moving to, and found out that her new home was about 300 kilometers away from the town where the boy lived.

It was about a six or seven hour drive, his father said.

A week had passed, and he hadn't received a letter from her. He intended to write a reply if she arrived, but when two weeks passed, then three weeks, and she still hadn't arrived, he began to feel strange.

The boy was the type to keep his promises. His stubborn father had taught him to always keep any promises he made to others, so if the boy had made such a promise to someone, he was absolutely going to send a reply letter.

He didn't think she was teasing him. But he couldn't bring himself to ask his homeroom teacher where she was moving to, or to tell his parents about it. That feeling of unease dug into the boy's heart like a thorn that couldn't be removed, and would sometimes pop up again.

At such times, the boy remembered her.

She had been wearing a denim skirt in the classroom, and the two of them had been preparing for an experiment as science teachers. Her straight, shiny hair, her distinctive large eyes that reminded him of a cat, and so on. He had never really paid much attention to her when they were in class together, so it was strange to be thinking about her so much now that she was gone.

There were classes every day, homework was assigned. There were after-school club activities, and by the end of the year, there were two small fights with male friends. Life seemed the same, but the days continued to move forward, and as usual, the boy received no letters.

One day, the boy became angry with her.

He wondered if it was terrible to stir up his feelings so much and then just ignore her. He tried to force himself to think that maybe she was that kind of person. However, somewhere in his heart, he still couldn't think that way, and he could never come to a conclusion.

There must have been some reason why the letters hadn't arrived. In the end, all the boy could do was check his mailbox as soon as he got home. There were no letters, only boring direct mail and bills addressed to his father, but his father and aunt, who knew nothing about it, praised the new boy for this habit.

It wasn't until he became a university student that the boy heard her name again.

He happened to find out that a girl who had entered his faculty had the same name as her. I couldn't believe it, so I spoke to him, and he started laughing.

After talking, I realized it was a different person. They even had the same last name, but the kanji in their names were different. The girl's name was "Natsumi," but her name at university was "Natsumi." Also, he and she were both born in western Japan, but she was born in Kanto.

It was an inconsequential coincidence, but the name of the elementary school they both went to was the same. Both of their hometowns had castles, and their elementary schools were located to the east. That alone was enough to bring them closer.

After breaking up once, at the age of 28, he started dating Natsumi again, and the boy married her. They had two children. Both were boys, and the older one resembled the boy, and the younger one resembled Natsumi.

When he turned 40, the boy took his older child to the elementary school he attended. There was an art class during the summer holidays, and Natsumi said she wanted her older child to attend it.

While she was at work, it happened to be his day off, so he took his son to an art class. During the hour and a half lesson, the former boy watched his son paint from the side of the classroom and looked around the elementary school.

This elementary school also had a science preparation room, and just like when he attended, it was lined with old wooden shelves and handmade lab equipment. From the window in the hallway on the opposite side, you could see the school grounds.

Now over 40 years old, the former boy felt like he had nothing left.

There were no problems with his job or his family, and if there was such thing as happiness, it might be what he had. But somehow, he felt like he had overcome a big mountain in his life, and that he had reached a point of no return.

He knew that in the future, he would be given a position at work, he would get sick, he would have to look after his wife's parents, and he would surely never lack for things, and that life was not as simple as it felt now.

However, the former boy was a little tired.

Looking back on his life up until now, it felt like everything he wished for became something different the moment he obtained it. No matter what he did or what he obtained, it would always disappear, and knowing that made his days sad.

But he was hesitant to say it aloud in front of his family, and he was a patient man. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his father had recently passed away after a year and a half of battling illness.

Suddenly, he remembered that girl. She must have known about his family.

Kindness had nothing to do with age. He now thought that she had probably intended to write him a letter after all.

There must have been something, something he couldn't fathom. At his age, he wanted to believe in her kindness, rather than coming up with excuses and hating her. It felt like her feelings were connected to many other things and had driven him to this point.

He finally realized that if she was still alive, he wanted her to be happy.