Club Rainbow 16

When we arrived at the coastal parking lot, several wagons were parked there. Guided by Mr. Kondo, we changed into dry suits. We chose a size one larger than usual so we could wear clothes underneath. The outdoor gear was in primary and fluorescent colors, designed to stand out in nature.

A group of young students had arrived earlier. The others seemed to be couples or pairs of women, each with someone they were with. The guides were Mr. Kondo and a man with a long beard, who explained the precautions before the tour.

Since the sea we were about to walk on was located in a bay, the surface movement was calm, but the water was five or six meters deep. We were instructed that if we were to fall in, we should raise both arms to prevent seawater from entering the dry suit. The suits had no pockets, so to prevent cameras or smartphones from falling while walking, we had to leave them in the backpack the guide carried until we reached a photo spot.

The dry suit was integrated from gloves to boots, and I borrowed a knit hat from Mr. Kondo. The suit, which covered my entire body tightly, was a bit difficult to walk in. Even though the ice was thick, I felt anxious about what would happen if it suddenly cracked. The guide chose a stable path with little swaying, and when the footing became unstable, the young women crossed with a mix of screams.

By the time we got used to walking, the guide stopped to make time for photos. Receiving our smartphones, the participants finally had the leeway to look around.

The clouds that had covered the sky had disappeared before I knew it. That piercing blue made the whiteness of the drift ice stand out. Looking at the endless horizon, I realized that even if I strained my eyes, I couldn't see the sea surface, and this path continued far out to sea.

There was no sound of waves. The footing was so stable that I almost forgot I was on the sea.

How far could I go if I kept walking like this? Seeing me start to wander off, Mr. Kondo raised his voice.

"We're going to the next spot. Please don't wander too far!"

Scolded, I sheepishly returned to the group. Satowa was caught by the student group, dealing half-heartedly with the young men who were talking to her enthusiastically.

Snow was also piled up on the drift ice. Mixed in with the footprints of the people walking ahead, animal tracks continued. An elderly couple said it was a red fox. The bearded old man muttered with deep emotion that even here on the sea, it was connected to the land.

At the next spot, we experienced entering a hole in the drift ice. Two women took turns entering a hole about the size of a bathtub. Thanks to the dry suits, there was no worry about clothes getting wet, and the way they floated buoyantly due to the seawater's buoyancy was just like taking a bath. Everyone started taking pictures, and it was cute how they crawled out on their bellies like seals when leaving the hole.

"Why don't you go in too, Satowa?"

Freed from the student group, her cheeks were red from the cold sea breeze. Perhaps because her body temperature had risen from walking, her complexion was better than when she was sleeping in the lobby.

"It's a rare opportunity, you should try it."

"I'm fine. Just walking is enough."

A little further away, the student group was experiencing ice breaking. They lined up in a circle in a thin spot on the ice and jumped all at once to break the drift ice. However, many of the boys were timid and couldn't jump well, so the ice wouldn't break easily. Every time they jumped, voices of surprise and fear were raised.

The elderly couple was absorbed in the animal tracks. There were not only tracks of small animals like foxes, but also traces of eagles that had landed to rest. The snow silently told us that even large animals like Ezo deer cross the drift ice.

Now, the guide wasn't watching. Without a word, we started walking toward the open sea.

As if led by something, Satowa walked ahead. I followed behind her. The voices of the students faded away, and the surroundings became deathly silent.

Every time I walked, I stepped on the sherbet-like snow, but still, I couldn't hear the sound of the sea. The waves that should have been lapping were sealed off by the lid of the drift ice.

"Satowa."

Because of the extreme silence, I called her name.

How far are you going? I started to say, then stopped. She probably wanted to keep walking, far ahead, just like this.

At my call, Satowa stopped. She turned back toward me, and suddenly, her eyes went to a pile of drift ice nearby.

It was a piece of drift ice the same size as a tray.

Careful not to slip, she approached it, one step, two steps. The drift ice looked slightly bluish in the sun. Where the ice had gathered and risen, it looked like stairs, and Satowa carefully climbed the steps with the soles of her dry suit boots.
A gust of wind blew as if to tease her as she stood on the drift ice. Responding to it, her footing swayed, and her body tilted.

"Satowa."

Regaining her balance, she stood on the drift ice with a cool expression. Perhaps the sea had moved; the ice rubbed against each other, making a creaking sound. Was that sound of colliding drift ice coming from far out at sea? The silence was broken, and Satowa stared at the end of the world as if picking up the melody.

Her body was bulky in the dry suit. Her hair was tangled by the sea breeze, and her cheeks were as red as apples. She looked nothing like the person who had been dancing on stage, but her profile, exhaling white breath, was the same as always.

Satowa spread her arms as if to catch the wind. She embraced the sea breeze in her chest and leaned her ear toward it as if to confirm its voice.

The sea was singing. What words was it whispering into her ears? With a calm expression, Satowa embraced the sound as if to wrap it up.

There was nothing in her arms. What was there was a void. Yet, as if embracing a loved one, she was catching the wind that carried the sound of the drift ice.

I wished I could be the one in those arms, I thought. Her gestures overlapped with the figure I saw that day at the theater in Shibuya.

Now, she was on the tray.

The rubbing drift ice played a melody without a score. Under the clear sky, the shining sun illuminated her more brightly than any spotlight. Her hands, stretched toward the sky as if to release the wind she had embraced, were as supple as wings, and there was an unmistakable allure in every one of her movements.

Unable to even make a sound, I just burned that image into my eyes.

Was it only a few minutes in time? When my body began to feel the cold, Satowa climbed down the stairs of drift ice.

"…Let's go."

Through the dry suit, she took my hand. Her steps were heading not toward the open sea, but toward the land.

When I noticed, the guide was calling us. I thought we had walked quite a distance, but it seemed we were still within their tolerance. When we returned to the group, we were sternly warned, "It would be a disaster if you fell into the sea, so please never get on the drift ice outside of the tour."

After walking for about an hour, the tour returned to the coast. On the way back, Mr. Kondo, who had been keeping a sharp eye on us to make sure we didn't wander off, shaved some ice from a hole in the sea to show us.

"Try licking this."

Handed a piece of drift ice, I put it in my mouth. I was prepared for a sharp saltiness, but perhaps because I had been sweating, it felt strangely sweet.

"Drift ice is formed when water from the Amur River in Russia flows in, and the part where the salinity is diluted is cooled and turns into ice, so it's not that salty even if you lick it. Even if it's a small chunk of ice at first, it gets bigger and bigger as it moves south, so there is not only Russian drift ice here, but also Japanese drift ice."

The other guests were also listening to the explanation intently. The student group was scooping up seawater and putting it in their mouths.

"The drift ice that comes at this time of year has the role of cleaning the shore. The plankton that melts from the ice enriches the sea. That's why drift ice is called a gift from the sea."

When I held the ice up to the sun, it was as transparent as glass. The sunlight reflected off the air bubbles inside, casting grains of light onto the snow. Satowa leaned toward me and looked up at the radiance.

"…It's beautiful."

She, who was usually quiet, spun those words.

Returning the ice to the sea, the tour headed back to land. Satowa looked back at the open sea as if reluctant to leave, and grabbed the sleeve of my suit.

"This is the first time I've seen such a beautiful view."

I took her hand, which was whispering that, and squeezed it back without saying a word.