Short Story: The Other Side of the Backlight [Literary Award from a Single Photograph]

The dry air typical of a Tunisian summer and the scorching sun made me feel as if the surface of my skin had transformed into fine, scale-like textures, much like a reptile's.
This is bad, I think I'm getting mild heatstroke. I opened the door to a cafe I spotted, and felt a wave of relief as the cool air that flowed out enveloped my body. I was glad the shop was air-conditioned.
I've been to this country many times, but whether a cafe has air conditioning or not is a complete gamble.
I wiped my hair, which I had cut short for a trip to Africa that combined work and travel, with a handkerchief, received my iced coffee, and slid into a seat where the cold air seemed to hit the most.
Sitting within my line of sight was a girl who looked incredibly "picturesque," and I reflexively raised my SLR camera.
Her slender yet feminine, rounded silhouette was emphasized by the backlight, and it seemed like it would perfectly match the hazy, uncertain landscape outside the window.
I'll just ask for permission later, I thought, and snapped a few shots. When I checked them, the results were just as I had imagined.
I could probably use these for a lifestyle magazine. As I was grinning to myself, she stood up and started heading for the exit, so I hurriedly called out to her.
"Sorry. Sorry. Do you have a moment?"
I tried speaking in French, but she gave me a blank look, so I took a translator out of my bag, wondering if she only spoke Arabic.
She stared intently at the screen and suddenly asked, "Japanese?" in hesitant but clear Japanese, so I ended up replying in Japanese as well.
"Huh? Why?"
"Japanese."
She said that while pointing at the word "Japanese" displayed exactly as it was on the translator's screen.
"Can you speak it?"
I conveyed this by making a gesture with my hand like a bird's beak opening and closing, and she leaned in eagerly, saying, "I want to speak it!" I braced myself slightly and held the opening of my bag a little tighter. I haven't had many good experiences when people respond so gleefully in situations like this.
When I told her, sitting across from me, about the photo I had just taken and that I worked as a photographer in Japan, she became surprisingly interested in the photographer part.
"Have you ever been in a book?"
"Yes, I have," I replied, and at almost the same time, she handed me her iPad, saying, "Read this."
"Is this... manga?"
It depicted a scene of boys punching each other, drawn with Japanese speech bubbles and proper panel layouts.
"Did you draw this yourself?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to be a manga artist?"
"Yes. If I can become one, I want to live in Japan."
I see... I thought, and looked at her closely once more.
She must be about 20 years old. Her light brown short bob was cut straight above her eyebrows, and her clear eyes and wide lips were striking.
The décolleté line peeking out from her simple white cut-and-sew top stood out beautifully, and I thought even her bone structure was lovely.
I didn't know a girl like this would draw manga, I thought, while swiping through the screen.
I'm not an editor, so I don't know much about manga, but I thought it was a typical boy's manga with ordinary art and content.
When I said to her, who looked a bit small from nervousness, "I read it. It was interesting," her expression suddenly brightened as if turning up the tone of the surrounding air by several degrees. She looked far more dynamic and picturesque than the manga she had drawn, and I found myself touching the SLR camera I had placed on my lap.
"Can I ask you something? Why did you start aiming for this?"
"Because I've been watching anime for a long time."
When she said that, she mentioned the names of anime I even knew, and we had a great time talking about the characters.
"So that's how you learned Japanese?"
"Yes. Is it weird? Is it okay?"
"No, it's amazing. You're very good."
"Really? Thank you."
She gave me that captivating smile again, and I wanted to pick up my camera.
"Are you a student now?"
"No. I'm not. I can't find a job."
At those words, I remembered the news reports about the high unemployment rate among young people in Tunisia, and I awkwardly ended the conversation.

After that, we exchanged social media handles and left the shop together. Her account name was Lina. Her posts were, as expected, filled with the illustrations she had drawn.
"Can I take a picture of you as a memento?"
When I asked her, as she was being mercilessly baked by the strong sunlight, she hesitated for a moment before replying, "Only if we're together," so I took out my smartphone.
She came so close that our shoulders touched and confessed, "When I first saw you, I thought you were a boy." I touched my own hair and said in a pathetic voice, "Well, my hair is this short and my skin is dark, too."
"No. That's not it. That's not it. You were really cool. I thought I wanted to be like that."
"Oh, I want to be like you."
"Not at all. I want to be stronger. So I can live anywhere."
I couldn't answer that she would be able to, but I nodded deeply and took the photo.
We checked the photo of her and me, both beaming with smiles on the smartphone, and laughed again.
After we parted ways while waving at each other on the spot, I secretly took a full-body photo of her from behind.
I think I'll show this photo to an editor I know.
It might be a little different from the "dream" she envisions, but—
—I have a feeling we'll meet again in Japan someday.

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