Chapter 15: 14

Part 2:

The Dozen or So Days Until We Parted

Chapter 14:
One Night in a Love Hotel, Pt. 2

Honoka however quickly rose to her feet. Showing no hesitation from the strong rejection she had received, she sat right beside him, just as she had done after the fireworks to comfort him while he cried.

 

“Yes, I knew everything. And… I still approached you. I know it was a strange thing to do, but I apologize if you’re angry that I hid that from you. I’m sorry.”

“Why…” he asked. “My real name has been published in the papers and announced on TV—it’s known all over Japan. While it may have been an accident, I’m still a criminal. Knowing that, why would you—”

“It’s got nothing to do with it,” Honoka cut him off. “I don’t care about any of that stuff. I was worried about you, Osakabe-san, after all that awful news, day after day… Everyone just ganged up on you, didn’t they? It’s downright cruel. It’s no different than bullying.”

 

Closing the distance between her and Osakabe in the space of a single breath, Honoka embraced him head-on. She buried her face in his chest with a sniff.

 

“You were the bus driver for the route between my apartment and the junior college. Of course it wasn’t everyday, but sometimes when we were together inside the bus, I’d just watch your back from a distance.”

 

Those words brought various memories back to life. Certainly, at the time of the accident, he was only filling in for the usual driver of the tour bus. He normally drove city transit buses.

Come to think of it, she had been there. Out of all the university students paying their fares as they got off, there was one student who sometimes met his eyes and greeted him with a “Thank you for your hard work.”1 The girl, with her distinctive bob with the ends curled in, had a pretty face and wore glasses.

 

“I remember now. You wore glasses…”

“So you do remember. I’m glad.” She smiled awkwardly. “I switched to contacts because I thought they were cuter.”

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” He had hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders, but now he reached out to embrace her tightly. Her physique was even more delicate than he imagined, so much so that she seemed on the verge of disappearing.

 

“Don’t fall for me.”

 

The words she had spoken to him on his first day in Jodogahama popped into his mind. And immediately, the opposite occurred to him: You shouldn’t be falling for me.

He more or less grasped the meaning with which she had spoken those words, and he must keep that possibility at bay.

 

“But,” he shook his head. “You shouldn’t get close to me. There’s absolutely no benefit to you spending time with a criminal like me. Instead, only pain and gossip will follow you wherever you go. Until my parole is over—no, even after it’s over, there’s no guarantee I can get a proper job after this. People all over the country know my name. I don’t know how I could ever live a normal life.”

 

※※※

 

It was a simple fact. Regardless of the parole period, the mark on my record made it difficult to remain at my last company for as long as I brazenly continued that job. That’s why I quit.

 

After sustaining my injuries, I was on the border of life and death for several days, and when I finally opened my eyes, I was laying in a bed.

The details of the bus accident I heard right away from my parents. Well, even if I hadn’t heard it from them, the details of the accident came one by one to my eyes and ears.

The worst bus accident in recent years, leaving eight passengers dead. Every newspaper wrote about the accident, and every channel on the television reported the story extensively, day after day. Paired with my quite unusual surname, in a flash I became a household name all over the country.

From that moment, I was known as a criminal who had taken all those lives and injured twenty-four more.

It was a huge shock. The wounds on my heart were too deep to come to grips with it properly. Seeing the name Osakabe Kengo broadcast on TV was like seeing the problems of someone else far away.

I felt like I was dreaming. Countless times I wished for it all to be some bad dream.

But reality was cruel.

The few months I stayed in the hospital after I woke up were literally hell.

As soon as I sat up, nearly every day newspaper and television reporters visited for interviews, repeating the same questions over and over. How did I feel now? What did I have to say to the families who lost loved ones? What should be done to make sure another accident like this never happens again?

The police detectives who came over and over were the same. Were there any deficiencies in the company’s job description or their management of drivers’ health? Any malfunctions in the vehicle? Was I physically fit to be driving that day? They cross-examined me on and on.

 

Just shut up already, I thought.

Who in the world would cause an accident for fun?

What kind of person would think nothing of taking other people’s lives?

I couldn’t hold back those inconsiderate thoughts in the face of their persistent questions.

 

Even my own family complained at length when they came to check up on me.

My father, the lawyer, would bring up work talk as soon as he opened his mouth. How I should go about my defense, the direction and strategy.

In truth, it’s probably thanks to my father that I was spared prison time, but still I couldn’t help but think how coldly impersonal those conversations were.

In contrast, my mother, only concerned with how society saw her at all times, listed off endless admonishments.

Why hadn’t I driven more carefully? Wasn’t I tired? Was I even mentally stable enough for such a job? That’s why she had been opposed to me taking a job where I would be entrusted with people’s lives. How? Why…?

This was exactly the moment when I needed her to support me with motherly tenderness. I became disillusioned in an instant about the love I felt for my mother.

And I understood for the first time how it was my mother’s influence that made me overanalyze other people’s expressions and distance myself from others. Regardless, the damage was already done.

 

“Just quit driving buses already. Find a normal job.”

 

I remember recoiling at these words from my father.

What is normal? A job that’s not entrusted with other people’s lives? No matter the job, bouncing around from one to the next, don’t they all in some ways have to do with other people? If everyone feared that, no one would become doctors and nurses, would they?

Despite the strong resentment I felt, I swallowed it all down. I never once spoke of it. The reason was simple.

No matter what logical argument I laid out, it would all be negated by the fact I was now a “criminal.”

 

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Gradually I began to despair.

One day I let it slip that I wanted to die. I was slapped by my brother, who was still in college.

He told me not to run away. That things may be difficult, but I had to face my crimes. Although he had grumbled about the television cameras aimed at our front door every day, he had perhaps been my greatest supporter.

 

After being released from the hospital and quitting my job to run away from my workplace, I had already been haunted by the label of criminal.

To be honest, I hesitated to buy these tickets and check in at a hotel under my real name. I considered using an alias countless times.

Despite thinking that it was all in my head, that I was just overly self-conscious, all the gazes that turned my way were filled with resentment. All of the whispers that came to my ears were full of ridicule.

 

※※※

 

“So I quit my job, and broke up with the girl I’d been seeing. I thought I’d throw everything away and start from zero, as appropriate for someone who lost everything… but my name has spread farther than I thought. The path to a new job is even more difficult than I imagined, and recently I can’t even picture a future where everything works out. That’s the kind of shitty person I am.”

 

“It’s really been hard for you,” Honoka said, while stroking his head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

The feelings, about to overflow, blurred into his vision. All I wanted was to be forgiven, he realized then thought, How much have I been craving this? How lonely have I been?

And yet, he deliberately pushed her away.

 

“I’m thankful for the kindness you’ve shown me. But I’ll say this again—you shouldn’t get involved with me. It will only bring you misery.”

 

He had nothing left. No matter what facts or logic he tried to line up, he could not wipe away the label of criminal. He hung his head. A completely ordinary girl like you should not get involved with a guy like me.

 

“I won’t accept that.”

“What?”

“August 1st—that day we met at the bus stop. You were crying that day, Osakabe-san.”

“I was?”

“Sitting all by yourself in a place like that, tears ran down your cheeks as you slept. And I thought, how sad. At the same time, I worried you might die. …That’s why I sat next to you. After a while I fell asleep too, and when I woke up I was a little disoriented.”

“…you’re too soft-hearted,” he muttered, then forgetting himself, wrapped his arms around Honoka’s slender shoulders.

“That’s why I’m not going to leave your side. At least, for as long as you’re in Miyako. It’s fine if I just stay beside you, right?”

 

This girl walked into his life, claiming to care for a criminal. He probably should have regretted this situation that should never have come to be. Instead, Osakabe rejoiced. He couldn’t help but hold this girl’s existence dear.

While thinking how pathetic he was, he just cried to be held in Honoka’s arms.

 

Exhausted from all that crying, they crawled into bed and he buried his face in Honoka’s chest. He could hear the faint beating of her heart, and felt like an unborn child immersed in the waters of a mother’s womb.

Come to think of it, I can’t remember a single time my own mother comforted me like this, he thought.

He fell asleep instantly without any qualms about the touch of her soft breasts against his body.

His spirit doubtlessly craved rest more than his body.

 

Outside, it began to rain. The patter of raindrops against the ground seemed to come from far away.

He suspected that what he experienced next, waking suddenly in the middle of the night, was some kind of dream or hallucination born from his wounded heart.

He sensed Honoka, who should have been sleeping in the bed next to him, suddenly looking down at him. Her shadow fell across his pillow, and her hair gently fluttered and tickled his cheek. He could smell the scent of the hotel shampoo, the same scent on his own skin.

He purposefully kept his eyes closed, sensing it would be better to feign sleep.

She laid a hand softly against his cheek, and caressed him adoringly. A breath brushed past his earlobe. He was certain she had drawn her lips close to his ears and murmured something, but the sound of the rain drowned out whatever she said in that soft voice.

Just as he was about to stir from an itch, he felt something soft touch his cheek.

Something pillowy.

A graze of something wet.

And then Honoka crawled back into the futon and turned away as if nothing had happened, and quietly fell asleep.

If I dreamed up that soft feeling against my cheek, Osakabe thought, still half-asleep, then it would be an embarrassing fantasy I could never admit to anyone. But, if it wasn’t, if it really happened—

Inside, a bittersweet pleasure threatened to overflow from his heart.

Shirakisawa Honoka, this girl he had just met, who had thoroughly healed him and even now was saving him once again.

If she hadn’t been here today.

If she hadn’t been sleeping in this bed at this very moment.

No doubt, I would be at the end of my rope, he thought. But that’s why I should not mistakenly get my hopes up about her. I’m someone with no future. I can’t forget that. No matter what happens, I must not fall for her, or let her fall for me.

Reaching that conclusion, the pounding of his heart started to weaken, and he closed his eyes. He counted the beat of the rain against the ground, reminiscent of a lullaby, and fell back into slumber once more.

 

The next morning, he awakened to the sound of someone humming.

The voice belonged to Honoka. In good spirits, she hummed the same melody from yesterday evening while she changed clothes. He was caught off guard at the unintentional sight of her in her underwear, but her voice sounded as it always did, without a hint of shame.

 

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He could only nod. “Yeah.”

 

1

While many people disembark the bus silently, it’s not unusual for people to thank bus drivers in Japan with a simple “Domo” or “Arigato,” but Honoka’s greeting of お勤めご苦労様です (otsutome gokurosama desu) is quite formal.

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