Short Story | Boundary Line

On Christmas night, Takagi suddenly said to me with a serious face.
"Isn't it amazing that next week is next year?"
"Next week is next year?"
When I looked at the desk calendar, the week after the one printed with '25' was blank, and looking closely, a faint '1' was printed there.
"Oh, I see. Wait, there's not even a week left of this year?"
Even though my interest in seasonal events has faded year by year, I couldn't help but feel like the countdown had begun. Was there anything I needed to do before the year ended? As I went to refill Takagi's glass with beer,
"No, no, wait until you've finished it all," he said, covering the glass with his hand. Despite being sloppy, Takagi is surprisingly meticulous.
Takagi's room, in his parents' house, is a Japanese-style room, and the mismatched items he's accumulated since childhood blend with the old room to create a sense of unity. A pipe bed on the tatami mats. Plastic models. Striped clothes. Stacked magazines. An acoustic guitar.
Yes, our common ground is music. We used to just feel like friends in a group, but after we were asked to perform together at another friend's wedding reception, we started hanging out occasionally.

"Let's have some Chimaek."
It was last week that I received that mysterious message from Takagi.
"You're free on the 25th anyway, right?"
"It's not like I'm doing it just because it's Christmas."
Seeing the messages arrive one after another, I thought, he really doesn't want to spend Christmas alone.
"The 25th is fine, but what is Chimaek?"
"I won't tell you. Anyway, let's meet at Kasahara Meat Shop."
He won't tell me. It's something I could find out immediately if I searched for it. Since he designated a butcher shop near his house known for delicious menchi-katsu, he's probably planning to drink while eating menchi and croquettes.

"Five hundred grams each of this yangnyeom chicken and the salted one."
On the day, contrary to my expectations, what Takagi bought was fried chicken.
"I thought you were going to buy menchi or something, but I guess it's chicken because it's Christmas."
"I told you, it has nothing to do with Christmas."
It's funny how Takagi is slightly annoyed. But if I laugh, he'll probably say something else, so I just nod, pretending to be solemn and saying, "I see."
"The 'Chi' in Chimaek stands for chicken, you know."
Takagi said this as if he had triumphed, and then, saying it was time for beer, he headed to the supermarket with long strides.

"So, if you go further with 'next week is next year,' it becomes 'tomorrow is next year.'"
When the beer we bought ran out, Takagi brought out some beer from his house's fridge. Bottled beer really is delicious. The chicken, which I thought was quite a lot, seemed endless when eating the sweet and spicy yangnyeom and the simple salted one alternately, and now there was only a little left.
"I see. That's what New Year's Eve is all about. 'Next year' feels like such a distant thing, so 'tomorrow is next year' feels a bit strange, though." When I chimed in, Takagi happily picked at the chicken, saying, "Right?"
Suddenly, I realized something and said,
"That means, on New Year's Day, 'yesterday is last year,' right?"
"Ex-act-ly!!"
With chicken still in his mouth, Takagi suddenly shouted and stood up for some reason.
"Hey, you're getting too excited."
I gave a bitter smile as he slipped past me toward the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a piece of paper.
"So, I wrote a song."
"Huh?"
Takagi thrust the copy paper in front of me. I felt a sense of déjà vu looking at the messy, handwritten characters that had clearly been rewritten many times.

"What do you think?"
"What do I think?"
"No, I mean, this song. I'll try playing it."
"Right now!?"
Without caring about my reaction, Takagi pulled his guitar over and started playing.

"To-mor-row is next ye-ar, but when to-mor-row comes, yes-ter-day be-comes last ye-ar, Year End and New."

I've felt this before, but Takagi's songs have a way of making you think, "I've heard this somewhere before." Moreover, the source material is very old. It's on me for noticing, but since we both grew up listening to music influenced by our parents, we end up noticing. This time, the opening melody immediately brought Okuda Tamio to mind. "The night will probably turn to snow." Are you Yamashita Tatsuro?
However, when I previously pointed out that a song he wrote sounded like Yutaka Ozaki, he denied it with all his might, so it seems he's completely unaware. It's scary.
Before, even though it was for a wedding reception, he wrote a song with the outrageous title "Scenery of Sadness" on his own, which I naturally rejected, but this time, I couldn't help but notice one line of the lyrics.

After finishing the song with a final strum, Takagi looked at me with expectant eyes.
"How was it? How was it?"
"How was it... what's with the suddenness again?"
"I turned the mystery of how just one day makes such a huge difference into a song."
"Uh, well, I don't really get it, but I think this part of the lyrics is good."
I pointed to that part of the copy paper with my finger.
"Well, the English is a bit iffy, but somehow, this part is good."
Saying "Hmm," Takagi, who seemed not entirely displeased, put down the guitar and drank his beer with a smirk.
"But when you read it carefully, it sounds like you're saying something profound, but it's also like it makes sense and doesn't at the same time, Takagi's lyrics."
When I said what I thought frankly, Takagi laughed through his nose and suddenly said,
"Let's start a band next year."
"Huh? A band? With who?"
"For now, we can do a two-piece band with me on guitar and you on bass. I'll work harder on writing songs."

A band.
It's true that practicing intensely for the first time in a while for the wedding reception was fun, like being a student again. That feeling when the sounds, which didn't quite mesh at first, suddenly crossed and became one after repeating it over and over. That feeling we both understood without having to say it out loud.
But.
"Starting a band now? We don't have much skill, we won't become pros, and there's no goal."
I looked at Takagi, laughing as if I'd heard a joke, but he was smiling with a surprisingly serious face and started singing slowly.

"I don't know what's there, but I want to see it, what's there."

It was the lyric I liked.
Takagi looked me in the eye and said.

"Do we need a goal other than 'it sounds fun'?"

Against my better judgment, Takagi's words pierced deep into the space between my chest.
That's why I don't like Takagi.
Even though he's usually goofing around, he crosses the boundary line so easily. He casually digs up things I've given up on, things I thought were impossible, and things I've even forgotten how to wish for.

It sounds fun.
Just that.
Was that all it took? Even until now, really.

"A band as a working adult."
When I looked down and laughed, Takagi said pompously,
"I have no boundary lines."
"There it is, Takagi's 'sounds profound but makes sense and doesn't' kind of talk."
"Well, let's think about it when next year comes."
Takagi said this and tried to pour beer into my glass, telling me to drink more, so I choked as I hurriedly tried to empty my glass.
No, next year is already right here.

This year will be over in just a little while.
With just a tiny difference, it will already be last year and next year. Then, what will the new me of the new year choose, and where will I head?

Watching Takagi's profile as he stuffed the last of the chicken into his mouth, I thought of the face of a friend who used to be the drummer in the band I was in.
In the end, I never did find out what Chimaek was.