Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [385]
Uncle Lou was rubbing his face with his well-worn hands. Wataru felt like he should comfort him somehow. Really I’m fine. In fact, I’m beyond fine in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.
But he didn’t know how to say it. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up crying himself. Not that he was sad—but if he started talking, all the emotion he’d been holding inside would burst out, and he would cry. Because I’m still a kid.
Because I’m no longer Wataru, the Brave.
Wataru leaned against his uncle, letting himself be supported by his arm. His uncle was warm and smelled of suntan lotion.
“Uncle Lou?”
“Hmm?”
“I guess I am a little sleepy after all.”
“Goodnight, Wataru.”
Wataru closed his eyes. The instant he fell into a light sleep, he began to dream. He was riding on the darbaba cart. Kee Keema was sitting in the driver seat, spurring the beast with cheerful yelps.
Finally, the tears came. His first tears back in the real world. They ran down his cheeks and over his lips. They tasted like home.
They stayed at the hospital until morning, but his mother still wasn’t up yet, so Uncle Lou took Wataru back to the apartment.
They ate breakfast at a pancake house. The place was empty in the early morning, except for a man in a suit sitting over in the smoking section reading a newspaper. The smoke from his cigarette drifted past Wataru, who was busily stuffing his cheeks with pancakes.
“Wataru.”
“What?”
His uncle was looking at him curiously, a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming coffee in his hand.
“What is it?”
Wataru’s uncle put his cup on the tray. He furrowed his eyebrows. “You know, you…”
“Yeah?”
“You seem grown-up all of a sudden.” There was a hint of surprise in his quiet tone. Wataru realized his uncle had been observing him for some time.
Wataru smiled. A nameless, warm feeling, one part gratitude and one part amusement spread through him. It wasn’t sudden at all. I’ve just come home from a long journey.
“I’m just happy that Mom didn’t die,” Wataru said. “I don’t think that’s what she really wanted. I don’t think that was the right thing to do.”
Uncle Lou nodded, unable to speak. His eyes glistened with tears.
School was already out for summer vacation. Even if Wataru went, no one would be there. So, the first chance he had, he made straight for the apartment where Mitsuru’s aunt lived.
It was morning, and the doorman was piling up garbage in the waste bin to the side of the apartment. When Wataru arrived, he paid him no notice. But when Wataru came out again, panting for air, he stopped what he was doing and came over, a suspicious look on his face.
“What are you doing here, boy?”
“Uh…I…” The nameplate for the Ashikawa apartment was gone. Right there, on the mailbox in the entrance foyer with the number for the apartment where Mitsuru’s aunt had lived was a new, blank nameplate. “Did Ms. Ashikawa move?”
“Ashikawa?”
“Yeah, a young lady, living with a boy about my age. He and I were friends.”
The doorman put a hand to his forehead and thought. Then he grunted and rapped his knuckles on his bald spot. “Oh them! They moved.”
“When?”
“Just a while ago. Think it was the last day of school.”
“Did you see them when they left? Was it both of them? Was the boy with her?”
The doorman seemed flustered by this barrage of questions. He recovered quickly, though—the dour, worldly expression coming back to his frowning face. He glared at Wataru. “What do you want to know for? If you were really his friend, why didn’t he tell you?” Glancing back at the mailboxes, he continued, “Say, what did you really come here for? Haven’t I seen you around before?” But by that time, Wataru was already out the door and gone.
Wataru wanted to see Katchan more than anyone else. Unfortunately, his good friend didn’t have any news about Mitsuru.
But Yutaro! Yutaro Miyahara. He was friends with Mitsuru; they were the top students in the class. And they had even been in the same room. Now where did Yutaro live…?
Yutaro was