[Short Story] In the Night That Never Ends

I love the long nights of winter.
When it gets dark, even the people walking sparsely naturally pay attention to the safety right in front of them, and no one looks at my face. Even if someone were to pass by, they surely wouldn't know who I am.
When the night breeze blows, I feel relieved by the sighs of others mixed into it, and I let out a sigh of my own, blending in.
The old, worn-out sign of the sushi restaurant flickered with its usual dying fluorescent light, and I felt relieved to have made it home.

When I turn on the television, a two-hour movie has just finished, and the trailer for next week's movie is playing noisily. Night is essentially a world of darkness, but modern people have obtained a world of brightness that can be had with the flip of a switch. Beyond the smartphone screen, somewhere in the world, it is morning twenty-four hours a day.

“Shizuku-san, did you make it home okay?”
A message received on the smartphone screen pops up.
It is from Hikaru, with whom I had been eating just a while ago.
“About what we were talking about earlier...”
Before any more messages could arrive, I turned the screen face down.

What should I do? What am I supposed to do—?

＊

A few hours ago, we took the train from Tokyo to Kamakura after work, walked through the quiet town where there were almost no tourists, and found an Italian restaurant in an old folk house that felt like a hideaway.
“Shizuku-san, what would you like? Wine and... it seems the pizza here is well-regarded.”
Hikaru opened the menu and pointed to a picture of a kiln-baked pizza with mozzarella cheese melting over tomato sauce.
“The pizza looks delicious. Let’s order a Margherita and something else.”
“Sounds good. How about this one with prosciutto and arugula?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I like prosciutto too.”
“Me too. Then let’s go with those two.”
We ordered two glasses of red wine, two types of pizza, and an original salad of Kamakura vegetables as an appetizer.
“Are you okay not having beer today?”
It was rare to be at an Italian restaurant instead of an izakaya on a Friday night, and to be drinking wine instead of beer.
Come to think of it, this was the first time I had ever come to Kamakura on a Friday night.

I met Hikaru at an izakaya near Shimbashi Station. We were both drinking alone after work.
When you go every week, you naturally start to remember the faces of the customers you happen to sit next to at the narrow counter. On the fifth Friday night that I happened to be there with him, Hikaru sat in the seat next to me.
“...Um, do you come to this shop often?”
A line I had heard in old dramas reached me from my left. For a moment, I didn't understand if he was talking to me, so I instinctively looked to my right, but the middle-aged man next to me was busy discussing the World Cup with his companion, yakitori in hand.
“Oh? Yes.”
For now, I tried replying with a smile. The person opposite me was clearly a young man, ten years my junior, who hadn't been working for long. I instantly plastered a sense of “adult composure” onto my face.
“Do you work near here?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes. Although I haven't even been working for half a year yet.”
“I see. What kind of work do you do? ...Well, that’s not a conversation for a Friday night, is it?”
“No... Um, actually, I’m the one who wants to ask. If you don’t mind, would you tell me about your work?”
“...About my work? Why would you want to hear about that?”
“I’m still not really used to it, or rather, I haven't fully become a ‘working adult’ yet. So, I’m asking various people about their experiences.”
“A working adult, huh... But if you asked me if I’ve fully become one, I wouldn't know. Surely everyone has a different image of what they want to be, right?”
From that day on, I started talking with Hikaru at this shop every Friday. If I put it that way, it might sound like a romance was beginning, but we were more like a senior and a junior, or an older sister and a younger brother, rather than lovers. Surely, anyone who saw us would think so.

“Ah!”
Just as we had finished about half of the second pizza, the prosciutto and arugula one, Hikaru suddenly raised his voice.
“What on earth is the matter all of a sudden?”
“Darn it! I definitely made the wrong choice!”
“What did you choose wrong?”
“The pizza! It should have been ‘shirasu’ (whitebait), definitely!”
“Why? The prosciutto one is delicious, isn't it?”
“Yeah, it is, it’s delicious. You like it, don't you, Shizuku-san? But here, it definitely should have been ‘shirasu’.”
“So, why?”
“Because, this is Kamakura, right? You like the movie ‘Our Little Sister’, don't you? I even did my homework, but I completely forgot!”
“You went out of your way to watch it?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you suggested we go to Kamakura?”
“...Yes.”
Perhaps because the red wine he wasn't used to drinking was going to his head, Hikaru’s face, as he looked down, was redder than usual.
“Hahahaha.”
For the first time in a long while, I opened my mouth wide and laughed. I was so happy that he had brought me all the way to Kamakura for my sake, and his slightly embarrassed expression was so endearing that I laughed until I cried. Even if I were asked for something by someone at work, I had long forgotten the joy of having someone offer me such selfless kindness.
“Hikaru-kun, thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed this much.”
“...Then, are you happy?”
“Yes. Very happy.”
“I see. Then, I’m glad.”
Hikaru finally showed a smile.

When we finished our meal and left the restaurant, there was a bright waxing moon high in the sky.
As I looked up at the moon and walked, cooling my cheeks flushed with wine and happiness, Hikaru, who had been walking slightly behind me, lightly tugged on the hem of my jacket.
“...What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick from the wine?”
When I asked that, Hikaru shook his head. Under the streetlamp, his eyes caught mine.
“I love you, Shizuku-san.”
At the sudden words, my mind couldn't keep up with the meaning.
“Yesterday, I made my first contract on my own. I finally got a little closer to you, Shizuku-san. That’s why I decided to confess today.”
“...”
“You might not remember, Shizuku-san, but I was saved by you once. Back in May, when I was still in my training period, I was out in the field for sales, and I was just bowing my head to customers all the time. Whether it was the greeting when I first met someone, phone calls with business partners, or complaints I had no memory of, I spent every day bowing my head. Before long, I didn't even know what my job was, I felt like I was doing something wrong, and my emotions just disappeared. Then one day, I made a mistake at work and was sent to apologize to a client. You were the one who handled it as the person in charge, Shizuku-san.”
As I listened to his story, I vaguely remembered the figure of a young man who, in contrast to the peaceful spring sunlight streaming through the window, kept bowing deeply and apologizing desperately.
“At that time, you said this to me in a bright voice: ‘It looks like we can adjust things here, so it’s fine. More importantly, it’s a beautiful day today.’ When I asked, ‘Why aren't you angry?’, you said, ‘Once the product is finished, you are also one of our valued customers. Besides, everything changes with the times, so it’s easier to believe that things will work out. So, you should look forward too.’ Thanks to you, Shizuku-san, I’ve been able to live until today.”
The pale-faced young man from that day and the Hikaru in front of me now finally overlapped. I hadn't noticed because his impression was so different, but that young man was indeed Hikaru.
“Am I not good enough for you?”
I couldn't organize my thoughts on how to reply. Youth is sometimes violent. It’s too dazzling, and I can't bear to look at it.
I ran away from the spot, boarded the JR Yokosuka Line train that had just slid into the platform, and returned north alone.

＊

On the living room table, the ringtone of my smartphone plays again.
I ignored it twice until the melody cut off, but when it rang for the third time, I was finally able to pick up the smartphone.

“...Hello.”
“Oh, thank goodness! You’re alive! Have you reached home yet?”
“...Yeah.”
“I’m relieved.”
“...I’m sorry.”

I love the long nights of winter. If only the indigo veil would stay down forever, I could protect this silence.
The morning sun is dazzling, and I feel like everything will be exposed. Sometimes, I become afraid of the dawn.
I don't want to see the morning sun yet. If I could, I would want to sleep until the next night comes.

But...

If I continue to talk to you through the night like this, perhaps a day will come when I am no longer afraid of the morning.

(The End)

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