"COPY BOY" My Clone is an Elementary Schooler ⑧ [Secret Base]

<Spring, Episode 8>

For some reason, everything the little guy did felt nostalgic.
It was all stuff I used to do when I was little. Well, that makes sense. He is me, after all.

For example...

When walking down the street, he walks on high places.
It could be a raised curb or even a white line. He walks along them all the way home. If he falls off, he imagines he's falling from a distant cliff—a grand adventure filled with childish fantasy. That thing kids tend to do.
Or, for another example, on the way home from school, he kicks a pebble all the way home. If the stone doesn't fall anywhere and he makes it home safely, it's a success. He enjoys keeping it carefully as a treasure...
There is no rational reason or value in it. The way he finds meaning and obsesses over such trivial play is exactly the same. It's happy, yet somehow a bit disappointing.

And today, too. The little guy was making that nostalgic "thing."
I noticed it through a LIME message from Neko-chan. A cute cat icon appeared with a light pop sound and said:

'Little Yutaka-kun, what are you doing right now?'

An image was sent along with it. The little guy was trying to cover the camera in the room with something that looked like a sheet.
'It looks like he's trying to hide the pillar camera.'
Neko-chan seemed to have wondered about it while watching our home's live feed at the office.

Upstairs, the little guy was stretching, saying "Ugh, ugh," while holding the edge of a sheet.
"What are you doing?"
Without answering, he was trying to fasten the sheet to the camera mounted high on the pillar with clothespins.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
He glanced at me, but ignored me. He continued, absorbed in his task.

"Yu-chan, that's nice." Grandma's voice came as she peeked in. "Making that again? It's been a while," she said happily, poking her head out from the stairs.
"I've never made something like this," I tried to correct her, but...
"Yu-chan used to make them," she said, walking down the stairs with a creak.
"I'm telling you, I didn't..." I started to say, then realized.
...Oh, wait... draping a sheet to make a tent-like shape...

That's right, a secret base.

Indeed. I remember this. When I was a kid. I used to make these all the time. How nostalgic.

I get the image, but he doesn't seem to be doing it well. That's right, it collapses under the weight of the sheet. He's struggling, trying this and that.
"Let me borrow that for a second, clothespins can't handle the weight. Tie it with some string or something..."
"No, I'll do it myself!"
Ah, that's not it... it's frustrating, but I can't interfere.

I sent a LIME to Neko-chan.
'It seems he's making a secret base.'
'What is that?'
'I used to make them all the time when I was a kid. As expected of my clone.'
'What do you do in it?'
'You go inside.'
'And then what do you do?'
'You don't really do anything, but you play with toys or eat snacks.'
'Oh...' She didn't seem very impressed. I wonder if girls don't do that.

Flop.

The little guy covered his head with the sheet that had fallen down. The sheet ghost was angry, making a screeching sound.

"He doesn't seem to be able to make it well. He's getting frustrated."
I couldn't help it, so I used a chair and a shelf to build a frame. My father taught me how to do that a long time ago.
When I draped the sheet over it elegantly, he looked at me with surprise. It was the first look of respect he'd ever given me. How about that, see the power of an adult?
I tied it in places with string. It's been a while, and somehow it started to become fun.

The little guy became instantly interested in my feat. He crept into the entrance as if invited, and when he disappeared inside, I heard a "Yay!" After a while, he kept popping his flushed face in and out, having a blast.

He seemed to get really motivated, furrowing his brow as he drew instruments and levers on drawing paper and stuck them onto the tent. It was exactly the same secret base I had made as a child. The quality is high for a second-grader. If I do say so myself.

When he went inside and turned on a flashlight, it illuminated the space inside the triangular pyramid, and it became an infinitely expanding universe.
"Wow."
The little guy raised his voice, looked at me, and smiled. I smiled too.

Wait, this feels good. What is this? He just smiled. No, did our hearts connect? I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I'm happy. Do positive emotions synchronize too?

He brought in a small cardboard box as a table and filled it with toys and manga.
Inside the base, he made me call him "Captain."
"Captain, I have brought the provisions."
"W-what is this..."
"Yes! It's 'Umaka-bo'! I rescued it from being locked in the cupboard by Grandma!"
"Well done!"
In the cramped space, we played with our favorite toys, and we both laughed while munching on the Umaka-bo snacks, dropping crumbs everywhere.

The little guy liked it so much that he ate dinner there and begged to sleep there too. I laid out bedding in the narrow base and was made to read him picture books.

The books he brought were all ones my father used to read to me when I was little.

'Jungle Expedition' and 'Space Colony Floating in Space', etc...
It's nostalgic, and it's exactly the same.
The pages that I tore when I was little are also taped up, just the same.
Did my father leave the same things on purpose? If so, why?

The little one's favorite is a picture book about a "bus".

It's a story about a family riding a bus together to go out.
To the zoo, the amusement park, the shopping mall, the skating rink...
At every bus stop they stop at, the children ask, "Is it here?" but
Dad keeps it a secret, saying, "Somewhere even better."

In the end, they arrive at a small restaurant standing alone in the forest.
The large fir tree Christmas tree in the garden, overflowing with light, is beautiful.

It's a story about the family having a warm meal together there.

Father and mother. And siblings. I have never experienced such warmth.
The little one, and I, are the same.
I loved this book. Just while reading it, I could simulate a small happiness. I was happy about that, so I read it many times. Even if it was out of season for Christmas.

"Big Bro, read it again."

What? Who? Big Bro?
...Ah, you mean me?
"O-okay." Even though we're the same person, being called "Big Bro" is...

"Big Bro," huh...
I feel a bit sentimental.

Our favorite picture books and games are the same. Everything we do is similar. Even the annoying parts.
As I thought, this guy really is me from 13 years ago.
That's why I understand. He must be anxious, living with such a strange older brother.

Why did Father create the little one, make him use the same books and clothes, and make him live the same life?

"Big Bro, do that song."
"Song?"
What's with the sudden...
"Dad used to do it with his mouth, like 'pee'."
"Ah, whistling. What song?"

Then, the little one

♪Hum hum hum♪

started humming.
Because he's a child and not very good at it, my brain couldn't quite grasp the sequence of notes at first.

Eventually, the melody suddenly descended into my lost mind.

"I've heard this before."

A nostalgic, bittersweet, and beautiful melody. What was it again?
The continuation welled up from within me. I tried vibrating my lips to the rhythm. The melody naturally overlapped. I matched the rhythm with the little one's eyes.

"That's right. It's Dad."
He used to whistle it for me often. After being separated from Father, I had completely forgotten it. I don't even know the song title. I loved it. It was so nostalgic, so nostalgic, I felt like I was going to cry.
I felt the time I spent with my late father overlapping with this child. I was afraid that if I stopped blowing, this feeling would disappear, so I played it forever.

I wonder what the song was called. I could search for the song title from the melody using an app, but I decided against it. If I knew the song title, I could take it out and listen to it anytime. It felt like it might fade and wear out, like a popular song. It felt like a waste somehow. So, I decided to leave it be.

...Hm? He's breathing in his sleep.

Perhaps while dozing off, he held my hand.
The hand of the "little me" that I'm touching for the first time. It's soft, small, and round. It's warm when wrapped in my palm. I'm a little embarrassed.
When I peeked at the fingertips that were working so hard to build the secret base, they were indeed the same as my fingerprints. I felt deeply that this guy really is me.

He is sleeping with his single-lidded eyelids closed, his small nose, and the tips of his small lips pursed.
As I watched him, for the first time, I felt,
"Maybe he's not as annoying as I thought."

No, rather,
"Maybe he's actually kind of cute, even if it is me."

That sweet melody echoed in the secret base at night forever.

"Maybe this life isn't so bad after all."

(To be continued)

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