Short Story: 'The 23-Year Breed'

To the department store.

When I went to my usual clothing brand store, a female clerk I didn't recognize was there alone. It should have been easy to tell if she was a new hire or a veteran who had transferred, but I couldn't tell. It wasn't that her age was unknown; it was that if she took off her name tag, she looked like she might just float away into the sky. Her skin was so clear, her hair had such loose curls, and the afterimages of the graceful movements of her fingers and legs seemed to have a texture different from those of this world.

When I asked, she answered with a soft smile.
"I am a '23-Year Breed'."
The '23-Year Breed' is a race of people who sleep for 22 years, wake up in the spring of the 23rd year, and fall back into a 22-year sleep at the end of that year. It seems there are more people of the same breed than one might think, and almost none of them differ in their years of waking and sleeping. In other words, the population that is awake and active this year has increased accordingly. Yet, no matter where I go, I don't feel any sense that there are many people or that it is noisy.

The clerk said she had worked at this long-established brand 23 years ago, and even 46 years ago.
When I asked, "Don't you find it difficult that clothing trends change so much?"
"No, it's fun. It's refreshing, and surprisingly, there are many things that never change. And that's not limited to clothes," she said in a falsetto voice that was pleasant to listen to.
She offered me clothes as if presenting a gift, and as we talked through the wall-to-wall mirror after I tried them on, the more I interacted with her, the more she appeared to be an innocent woman in her 20s, or a dignified woman in her 60s... Or rather, I was surprised to feel that she existed while freely wearing the light and shadow of 22 years, in whatever state I desired her to be. We might just call that 'charm' and leave it at that, but from the perspective of the '23-Year Breed,' is that superpower (?) an extraordinary release of energy that requires 22 years of sleep because they can only stay awake for less than a year? Or is it just a custom or outcome of a life that is 'surprisingly' nothing special? I wonder about such things.

The clerk was, of course, dressed in the brand from head to toe. Aside from her pumps, which were new, her dress with a pattern like kumiko woodwork, her silver choker, and her yellow glass ring were from 23 years ago, while her bolero with a collar that drew curves like flower petals and the small toque hat worn at an angle were from 46 years ago.
Only the blue, finely crafted rose corsage pinned to the chest of her bolero, which looked like it was wet with rain, made her say, "I wonder when this was from," as if she had forgotten or was playing dumb. Faintly, but truly, the rose smelled sweet.

After finishing my shopping, I felt a slightly sentimental mood, wondering if I would ever see her again, or if this was the last time. A sense of nostalgia welled up, as if I had met someone like her 23 years ago when I was a student.
But she said, quite nonchalantly, and with a smile that was clearly different from business—a smile that again seemed to float in the air—
"Thank you very much, please come again."

©️2021TSURUOMUKAWA

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<This is an entry for the short story contest 'Pirika Grand Prix' on note. I received the Jury's Award. Thank you.>

<Yuta Inui read this aloud for me. Thank you.>