Prologue

SEPTEMBER 8, 2022 ~ FLAMETJD

Once again, summer had arrived this year.

The rainy season came and went.

However, the relative humidity and heat index remained at a high. The air felt so damp it seemed to cling to the skin. Throngs of people went to-and-fro as though swimming through this atmosphere saturated with water.

“I” was one of them.

Dressed in a white dress and a pastel cardigan, I must’ve looked the part of a well-bred lady if I do say so myself. It wasn’t my usual outfit though. If you were to ask whether it suited me or not, I’d lean towards saying it did. Nevertheless, it just wasn’t my preference. And if you’re asking whether there’s a special someone I was trying to impress—which was why I wore something I wasn’t used to, the answer would be no.

Even with a parasol, walking under the hot sun readily drained one’s stamina, and that effect was all the more pronounced when wearing unfamiliar clothes. I slowly made my way, stopping frequently under shelter to rest.

Many different species of cicadas were chirping at the top of their lungs. It sounded to me as if they were sneering at me.

Where do you think you’re going in this blazing heat? That place you’re trying to reach does not exist anymore, and neither does that person. You can never return to that time. Aren’t you just basking in the memories of that summer since it’s that time of the year again? Well? And so on.

Of course, that wasn’t actually the case.

I mean, cicadas were just that. They sang at the top of their lungs for no reason other than their own, and it had nothing to do with me whatsoever. Their mockeries were all in my head, a product of the fear in my heart.

Yeah, you’re absolutely right, I acknowledged the cicadas’ delusionary laughter.

I won’t make any excuses, for it was true that I was just reaching out in search of lost time. Filled with lingering attachments, I wished to indulge in memories of days past.

Though no one was hurrying me, I sped up slightly.

I made my way up a white stone staircase.

A gust of wind brought over the sharp odor of a roadside tree whose name I didn’t know, causing me to gag slightly.

Proceeding up a slope paved with aged tiles, I passed by a group of suntanned grade-schoolers. For a second there, the scent of the trees was tinged with the acrid whiff of chlorine.

Ah…

Turning the corner at a fairly old tobacco shop, I saw it just ahead—an apartment complex which looked just like any other.

It was eight storeys high, with around four apartments per floor. The walls were surprisingly clean, and looked quite new despite the many years that had passed since it was built. A small open-terrace café occupied the first floor, but it was rather vacant owing to its distance from the nearest train station.

Almost delirious from the heat, I shakily stepped into the building. The main entrance wasn’t locked. I headed straight for the stairs, passing by a sign which read “Please refrain from making noise at the common area” as I climbed up. From time to time, I stopped to take a break when I was out of breath. When I had rested enough, I continued my ascent.

Eventually, I arrived before unit 508.

I knew what was behind the door. A room bereft of furniture. A large window covered by pale-green curtains. The townscape of Hagamine City which lay beyond them, and even further, the sea. A single low drawer which sat against the wall, with a round fishbowl on top. Two red goldfish frolicked in the bowl, weaving around the swaying waterweed. That “child” was sitting where the sun hit the floor, swaying side-to-side like the strand of waterweed as she stared at that person’s back.

I took a breath, and exhaled. Then, I reached a finger out towards the doorbell…

And stopped. I pulled my finger away, and took a single step back.

I could not go beyond that door, for I had no right to.

The cicadas kept chirping in the background, sounding to me as if they were sneering at me.

You guys were exactly right. That place I’m trying to reach doesn’t exist anymore. That person is gone, and time won’t turn back. The only thing I can reclaim is this season we call summer, which comes over and over again.

“…Hahh,” I sighed. Standing right here, I was once again reminded of the glaring fact that I was nothing more than an outsider.

It’s true. I knew about them, about what happened that summer. However, that was but a one-sided relationship. Though I knew about them, they knew nothing about me.

To them, I was nothing more than an intimate outsider. I wasn’t an actor in their story; simply a part of the stage setting, or perhaps something like a stagehand. I was always there. In times where they suffered, rejoiced, grieved, and when they eventually came to understand each other—I was always with them, and I couldn’t do a single thing.

There exists a word known as “Prologue”.

Apparently, it originated as a word to describe the introductory remarks of a theatrical performance. An explanation of sorts, recited by an actor for the audience before the start of the story, in order to establish the context or characters.

Oftentimes, that position is given to a character with a supporting, but nonetheless indispensable role in the story. Someone who doesn’t directly influence the plot, yet remains close enough to witness the story unfold firsthand… That makes them suitable, I guess.

And that made me think.

If what happened back then were to be summed up as a single story… If I were to look back on that summer shared by that awkward young man and that intelligent imitation of a lab rat bound to this fishbowl of an apartment…

Then surely there could be no one else fit to narrate its prologue other than me.

That’s why, at this time and place—

I shall recollect the tale of a man and a creature, here where they are long gone. I don’t care if there’s no audience. I just want to bask in the memories, alone.

It all started on that hot summer night, during August of the year before last…