In 1996, I Lived with Her

1996. A summer when the frenzy of the Atlanta Olympics was slowly reaching the streets of Hiroshima.
On the TVs at the front of electronics stores in town, broadcasts of judo and marathons played endlessly, and songs by the Komuro family played non-stop from the speakers in the shopping district.
Smartphones were not even a shadow or a shape yet; every time a pager went off, I would run to find a public phone, and it was shortly after the introduction of Purikura.
Life at the market, a little removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, was completely different from the tense days I had spent in T-kyo; it was the very definition of the "center of youth," a mix of freedom, the smell of sweat, and the lingering scent of the Showa era.

As a single man, I would hang out with local bad friends and people my age I met at the market supermarket, head to the beach, drink cheap alcohol at night, and listen to worn-out cassette tapes playing from the car stereo.
It was a time when even MDs hadn't fully spread yet, and every time the tape got tangled, I would rewind it with a pencil.
Even though I didn't have a penny to my name, for some reason, my heart felt strangely full.
I was enveloped from head to toe in that unique
"intensity of a local summer" that I could never have experienced in T-kyo.

My ride was a used Z32 that I had pushed myself to get.
It was an era when Wangan Midnight was talked about realistically, and just by riding a Z, I felt like I had become a slightly more mature adult.
When I sank my body into the low seat and slid out onto the national highway at night, the lights of vending machines by the road, convenience store signs, and the tail lamps of late-night trucks flowed past.
The hard labor at the market during the day and the prickly atmosphere at work all melted into the wind behind me just by stepping on the accelerator.
I am driving my own life with my own hands.
Only that certain feeling resonated deep in my chest along with the vibration of the V6 engine.

The sound of forklifts echoing in the market in the morning, the smell of fish, and the sun shining down mercilessly.
The air conditioning was still weak, and the sound of an electric fan stirring the air in the room was the BGM of my life.
The oasis of such daily life was "Cafe T" in the annex building.
Wooden tables that retained the scent of the Showa era, faded menus pasted on the walls, and variety shows playing from a CRT TV.
A family-run shop managed by a mother, her son, and her daughter.
I was naturally drawn to S-ka, the daughter who worked there.

Light brown hair that was almost blonde, and translucent, fair skin.
With thin eyebrows and a slightly gal-like atmosphere, she was somehow simple, and she was the only one who looked exceptionally bright in the dusty air of the market.
It was a presence that the men in the market wouldn't leave alone, but strangely, she opened her heart to me after I had only visited a few times.
When I asked her out on a date, she said yes easily. Our first destination was KP Land, which was still a dream place.
We frolicked like children on the coffee cups and go-karts, and the two of us picked at the pasta in the park.
On the drive home, as I told her "I want you to go out with me" in the humid summer wind flowing through the car,
she said yes to that as well.
My chest burned with happiness, and I realized painfully that a real love had begun, different from the indecisive games I had played until then.

Not long after that, we started living together in a 1DK room on the second floor near the market.
The room still smelled of tatami, there was an old electric fan left behind by the previous tenant in the back of the closet, and the sound of cicadas could be heard from outside the window.
No matter where I was in the small room, I could feel her presence.
Even the casual conversation for a few minutes before heading to the market in the morning was as precious as a jewel.
"I won't cheat on anyone anymore, I'll live only with this girl"—that vow welled up in my heart naturally.

I had a Z32, and she had a blue-painted commercial-based Avenir.
A 45-plate one-year inspection, with white fur on the windshield.
It was a low-rider specification with the lowered height, wearing the scent of the youth culture of the time just as it was.
The sweet scent of air freshener in the passenger seat, and a small stuffed animal on the dashboard.
We would take turns driving our two beloved cars and cruise the night streets.
The national highway lined with orange streetlights, that unique warm light that wasn't LED yet.
When we drove side by side, it seemed as if our future stretched out to the end of that road, forever.

We must have looked like a "flashy couple" to those around us, but I didn't care about those gazes.
Just having her by my side was enough to make the world complete.
At night, we would choose action movies or pro-wrestling VHS tapes under the white fluorescent lights of a video rental shop,
and order pizza.
It was an era without DVDs, where rewinding was a hassle.
Lying on the bed in loungewear and watching movies was the bliss of daily life.
She wasn't good at games, and she would immediately notice when I went easy on her and get sulky.
Even that sulky face was adorable, and we would make up while laughing, and repeat stories about the future without getting tired of it, like where should we go next, or should we drive to Y-guchi.

At lunchtime, because I didn't want to be teased at the shop, she started bringing deliveries to my car.
She, who was modest and shy, would pass through the hustle and bustle of the market for me without a care.
I would open the car door, our eyes would meet for just a moment, and I would receive the delivery.
In that instant, the world became ours alone.
We both wore polo shirts and baggy pants.
The time we spent walking side by side, wearing loose jeans or chinos and carrying the scent of the street at the time, was like a ritual to confirm that we were inhabitants of the same world.
My fair-skinned girlfriend sometimes looked like a foreigner depending on the light, and every time that happened, my heart was gripped tightly.
And from the car stereo of her Avenir,

Mad Capsule Markets was always playing at high volume.
It was an era when CD changers were still something to be proud of.
That aggressive and unique heavy bass was the BGM of our lives.
Her profile as she swayed her body slightly to the music during a night drive is still burned into my mind.
"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met"—I can say that with certainty; she shone more specially than anyone else in my life that summer.
The fatigue of the market, the lack of money, everything didn't matter; we were just purely happy.

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