A Unilateral Promise

For some reason, my junior high school, Isehara Junior High, belonged to the delinquent crowd at the time.

Strangely enough, the vibe was different at every school. Having advanced to high school, I didn't have the slightest clue that there was a trend where being a delinquent was considered uncool.

"Isehara is crazy. They're still delinquents."

It was an era when color gangs were starting to become popular, and things like 'oyaji-gari' (mugging middle-aged men) and 'Air Max hunting' were rampant. It was around the summer of 1998.

I didn't really fit into groups; I wasn't at the center, but I liked just hanging out. Still, I didn't want to be thought of as uncool. And I wanted to be liked by the girl I was interested in. It was a time filled with such vanity.

And then, I found myself drawn to a guy just like me.

That was Koba.

Koba was the type who wore red under his uniform back in junior high, but after spending some time in high school, I think he, like me, had realized that being a delinquent was out of touch with the times.

Feeling a similar vibe, I naturally started talking to Koba.

We didn't really talk about anything in particular, but the time we spent together was comfortable, so we started hanging out more.

Koba liked to draw.

In Koba's room, there was a plaster bust for sketching.

I didn't even know people actually bought plaster busts. I genuinely thought that drawing was something only talented people could do effortlessly.

Watching Koba sketch the plaster bust, with the oscillating fan on high, listening to Western music and reading books—I quite liked those hours where we didn't say a word.

Koba also designed silver accessories. He often made chokers of his own design and would even give them to me.

I asked him once.

"Koba, what do you want to do?"

Koba replied, "I want to make chairs."

Eames chairs. Apparently, he was electrified by their design.
I was just surprised, never having imagined I had a friend who wanted to design chairs.

He showed me photos of what kind of chairs they were from a magazine on his bookshelf and talked about them passionately, so I know he really loved them.

I realized how contagious the passion for something someone truly loves can be.

"But I don't think I can actually do it. Still, I want to be involved in some kind of design."

I, who only vaguely thought about becoming famous and popular with the girls, found Koba incredibly cool.

Whether I was acting tough or just didn't want to lose, I can't remember my feelings at the time, but I said this to Koba:

"Someday, I'm definitely going to do something. When that time comes, you have to make something with me."

The cicadas outside were buzzing loudly,
and the Western music in the room was blasting that summer.
Only the fan was nodding along.

He didn't seem to be just half-listening.

What are you talking about?

Koba works in a design-related field now.

And this promise was fulfilled in 2015.

About 20 years later.

It was at our first event in Isehara with Ozeki.

Koba remembered the promise. We planned it together. It was a happy time, and in some ways, a bit embarrassing.

This is the form that Koba and I created.

Not bad, right.