March is for the [Polar Bear Literature Club]

March is an unbearable month. Because I caused something terrible to happen...
It was when I was in elementary school, so it was over forty years ago... There was a classmate named Ryota, Ryota Koike, and I was often mistaken for him. We weren't identical, but we looked somewhat alike. We both had long faces, and we were both lanky with limbs that were long for our bodies... Apparently, we looked exactly the same from behind, and I was often called out to with, "Ryota!"
I was born in Yokosuka. It was on the west side of the Miura Peninsula, a place that was inconvenient to travel to despite being close to Tokyo. My father was a fisherman, and he went out to sea early every day. I would always tag along with my brother, who was two years older than me, and his friends, playing on the school grounds until the very last minute before we had to go home. Behind the elementary school was a small hill, and when I was in the second grade, construction began to cut into it to expand the playground. Every day, power shovels would scrape away the red clay, and several men would use shovels to scrape and level the areas the machines couldn't reach. They would place their feet on the top edge of the spade, thrusting it deep into the soil. Once the shovel grabbed the dirt, they would toss it aside. The rhythmic movement was fun to watch. Ropes were strung up and "No Entry" signs were posted, but the children would steal away from adult eyes to enter the roped-off area, enjoying the secret thrill.

One day, it became a huge commotion when Ryota Koike didn't come home. Because our homeroom teacher, a young woman named Kinoshita, said she had definitely seen Ryota leaving through the school gate, it was concluded that Ryota had disappeared somewhere between the school and his home. My father, who was in the volunteer fire department, was also called out, and the search continued late into the night in the nearby river, the sea, and the boats tied up at the shore, but he was never found. The next day, one of the laborers who came to the school noticed his shovel was missing. When they searched the area where the soil had collapsed, they found Ryota buried there, still clutching the shovel...

I still clearly remember Kinoshita's appearance when she heard the news. She slumped as if she were collapsing, sat down in the chair next to the teacher's podium, and remained motionless, face down on the desk...

On the day Ryota disappeared, I was playing on the school grounds as usual. Even when the music for dismissal (I believe it was Annie Laurie...) played, I was obsessed with the monkey bars. I was hanging there even though my arms hurt, determined to reach the other side before my brother. Suddenly, I looked at the playground and saw no one. My brother and his friends had already gone home. As I hurried to run through the entrance, Kinoshita walked out from the direction of the staff room. It was a dim hallway.

"Oh, goodbye."

At Kinoshita's voice, I ran out the school gate without even turning around. I felt a little embarrassed. When the teacher said that day that she had "seen Ryota leaving," could it be that she had mistaken me for Ryota at that moment? If I had turned around and answered the teacher with "Goodbye," it would have meant that I was the one who had left, and that Ryota was still inside the school; perhaps he could have been found sooner and not died...
When I realized that, I couldn't stop my body from trembling.

Every time March comes around, I remember that day. My heart aches with the thought that it might have been me who let Ryota die.

The End


Please let me participate in Komaki-san's project.
Komaki-san, I apologize for the trouble, but thank you in advance.

This is a work of fiction based on a sad incident that occurred when I was in the second grade of elementary school.