[Rainbow Creative Department] Summer, the Sea, and Our Daily Life (1)
Episode 1
・‥…━━━★
The wind blew thinly across the morning beach. A seagull cried low, and a single wave rolled in and retreated. On that shore, an old man wearing a tattered raincoat was searching for driftwood. He walked slowly along the water's edge, watching his feet carefully. In his hand was an old basket. Inside, there were already several things like nail-less wood scraps, glass shards, and faded ribbons lined up.
A blue cloth was caught in a hollow in the sand where the tide had receded. The old man stopped and gently crouched down. There, washed ashore, was a blue marionette shaped like a clown, with the letter “B” stitched onto its chest. One leg was broken, and the paint on its face was peeling. But only the eyelids remained strangely vivid. Closed eyes, as if dreaming. The old man muttered softly. “You’ve washed ashore again, have you...” The voice melted into the sound of the waves, not speaking to anyone in particular.
“There is still warmth inside. It would be a shame to leave it behind.”
Muttering this, he gently picked up the doll. As if handling a sleeping child. With the hem of his raincoat still wet, the old man turned his back on the receding tide and began to walk toward his hut.
・‥…━━━★
“The Impulsive Section Chief and My Melancholy Monday”
Monday, 9:00 AM. With a coffee in one hand, I was organizing this week's tasks in my head. The strong summer sunlight streamed in through the conference room window, illuminating the white walls and glass doors in an inorganic way. On the whiteboard behind me, faint marker lines from erased notes still remained.
At Friday's meeting, the section chief had declared with a beaming smile, “Next week, let’s put our all into Project A!” so naturally, I had been preparing for that. Thick documents and a tablet for Project A were lined up on the table. From the next room, I could hear the ringing of a telephone and the clattering sound of a copier spitting out paper.
However, the section chief—a man of 100% impulse and zero foresight—was energetic again today.
“Hey, Tanaka-kun! We’re going with Project B as our focus! My lucky color came up as ‘blue.’ In this morning’s fortune-telling!”
“...Oh, is that so.”
Fortune-telling, really?
I watched a bus pass by outside the window unconsciously. While I was mentally face-palming, I took out my notebook with a straight face. The sound of someone laughing leaked from the office behind me, adding a strange sense of reality.
“By the way, regarding the matter where you said ‘Let’s go with A’ on Friday...”
“Ah, that was last week’s story. Old, old! Life is all about updates! Right? Look, you replace your smartphone every two years, don’t you?”
Section Chief, that’s different from this. While a retort echoed in my head, the air conditioner blew faintly, and the glass door rattled. But I didn’t have the courage to confront him head-on and say, “You’re saying something different.” The “Section” in the section chief’s title stands for “Impulsive Section Chief.” He lives by impulses, involves others by impulses, and changes the course of projects by impulses.
“I see, then Project B will be the top priority. By the way, regarding the direction and materials, I have the ones I made for A on Friday...”
“Yeah, let’s make use of those too! It’s a hybrid concept of ‘It’s B, but the content is A’!”
“......”
That makes it even more confusing.
“Then Tanaka-kun, please handle that! We’ll give an interim report to the president in the afternoon!” “Yes...”
Isn't the deadline a bit too soon?
・‥…━━━★
A weathered work hut by the sea. Inside the dim space, only one light was lit. On the wooden desk, the rescued marionette lay. The old man silently shaved the broken part of the leg, looked for a matching piece of wood, and carefully wound the thread. For the fine details, he used a magnifying glass and tweezers, adjusting it as if checking with his fingertips. In the corner of the room, several dolls that had been repaired in the past were lined up. None of them were flashy; they all stared at the shelf with a somewhat lost look. As a finishing touch, he carefully wiped the hem of the blue cape and slowly exhaled.
“Inspiration, huh.” He muttered to no one in particular. When he muttered that, the morning light streamed in through the small window. Illuminated by that light, the marionette just quietly swayed its repaired form in the breeze.
To him, these dolls were the husks of “thoughts.” Nameless ideas washed up by the waves. He believed that small ideas that had crossed someone’s mind arrived in the shape of a doll. It wasn’t about whether they had a purpose. He just repaired them because they were there.
・‥…━━━★
I opened my computer and clicked on the file in my personal folder. The pale light reflected on the screen hit the white wall of the conference room, faintly illuminating my face.
Friday’s record:
“Project A is the top priority next week. Section Chief speaks with tears in his eyes.”
Monday’s memo:
“Project B is the top priority this week. Section Chief gets an inspiration from morning fortune-telling.”
Tears and fortune-telling. The sources of information are only emotions and spirituality.
At that moment, I sensed several employees lining up in front of the elevator in the distance, and the streaming morning light stretched their shadows long. The copier rang again outside the conference room, and the sound of paper stacking reached my ears. While holding back a sigh, I began typing a new memo into my tablet. Thus, I was once again busy with the mundane task of turning the section chief’s “fantasies” into “reality” today.
“Life is really swayed by impulses, isn’t it...”
Thinking that, I typed today’s date and title into the memo.
“August 31st: Impulses, Again”
The sea breeze outside hit the glass, and I felt an illusion as if the white wall was shaking. The summer company continues to move today as well.
・‥…━━━★
In the evening, the old man returned to the hut and suddenly stopped. The blue marionette that should have been on the workbench had vanished. The only thing left behind was a glass marble the size of a marble. The old man gently picked up the pale blue object. When he held it up to the light, the word “TUNA” appeared to bleed through from the inside, swaying.
“...So, you’ve found your destination.”
To that muttered voice, the sound of the waves replied quietly from afar, as if answering.
・‥…━━━★
fin
Episode 2➡️
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もしこの物語のささやきが、あなたの心のどこかでそっと響いたなら、その余韻のひと雫を、この小さな灯火に注いでいただけたなら——言葉の旅路は、より遠く、より深く、静かに広がってゆくでしょう。