Laughter in the Photograph (12) Empty

When I entered junior high school, I joined the basketball team, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

I had always been good at standing out, taking charge, and being at the center of the circle. I became a regular in my first year. I also served as a class representative. My face and name were known immediately.

Thinking back on it now, I was quite full of myself.

But it wasn't all good things.

Around the end of my first year, I severely injured my knee during a game. My body, which had been moving so intensely, was already creaking in various places. I quit basketball. I had lost yet another place where I had finally found a sense of belonging.

It was Mr. Shimizu, my homeroom teacher from my first year, who couldn't stand to see me drifting aimlessly. He was a scary person, but he was someone who looked out for his students more than anyone else. He pulled me into the student council, almost by force. It wasn't an election. It was as a secretary under his recommendation quota.

When I became a third-year student, I was entrusted with the role of cheering squad leader.

I would stand in front of the entire student body and raise my voice.

The gymnasium would shake in response to my voice. Hundreds of eyes were watching me. If I raised my hand, everyone would follow.

Ever since I enrolled, I had been, if anything, the type to stand out. I think that during the time I was the squad leader, I was receiving the most attention of all.

From the outside looking in, I think I had obtained many things.

But—right there, in the very center.

Wrapped in the voices of the crowd, in that very center, I felt as if I were the only one who wasn't anywhere at all.

Right in the middle of that glamorous place, I alone felt empty, as if the wind were blowing right through me.

Even while I was in Matsuyama, there were girls I thought were nice.

But, strangely enough, every time such a girl appeared, somewhere in my heart, I would compare her to Honoka.

Without even realizing it myself.

This way of laughing is different from Honoka's. This feeling isn't Honoka.

And so, in the end, I couldn't truly fall in love with anyone.

Before I knew it, Honoka had become the yardstick by which I measured everything inside me.

Even so, I lived my life as if to avert my eyes from those roots.

Because I stood out, there were girls who would approach me. There were invitations and opportunities, too.

And I did some very irresponsible things.

I have no intention of writing about each of those things in detail here. But there is nothing I can be proud of.

Back then, I treated my own feelings very cheaply and carelessly.

After things like that, the same thing always remained.

There wasn't even a shred of a feeling of fulfillment. Only an emptiness remained, as if a cold wind were blowing through.

At the bottom of that, there was always an inexplicable sense of guilt.

It wasn't as if I had made any promises to Honoka. We weren't dating, and I hadn't even seen her for years.

Even so, I couldn't help but feel like I was doing something wrong to Honoka.

Now, I understand a little bit.

I think that at the bottom of that guilt, Honoka was always there.

When we were in elementary school, even though Honoka hadn't done anything wrong, people spoke of her as if she were something dirty.

I was, perhaps, the opposite.

Without anyone telling me to, I treated my own heart, little by little, carelessly.

Even now, I still cannot quite bring myself to like the person I was back then.

However—there is someone who, much later on, will turn this emptiness into laughter.

But that is a story for much further in the future.

While I was in Matsuyama, I remained empty. I spent my days only half-aware that I was empty at all.

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♪ BGM for this chapter: es ~Theme of es~ (Mr.Children), ALIVE (Mr.Children)

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