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The sun has already fallen as we leave the abandoned building Miss Tōko calls home. Shiki’s apartment is quite close by, but my apartment is about twenty minutes away by train. Shiki’s groggy pace and an unsteady walk remind me of the lack of sleep mentioned earlier, and I stay close beside just in case it’s needed. Out of the blue, Shiki asks me a strange question.
“Hey, Mikiya. Do you think suicide is right?”
“Hmm, let me think on that…,” I say, trying to drum up a good answer. “Well, let’s put it this way. Say I had a terribly deadly retrovirus, such that me just staying alive threatens all of Tokyo. If dying meant everyone would be saved, then maybe I’d kill myself.”
“What in the hell? That’s such a far-fetched scenario it hurts my brain.” Shiki makes a disappointed face.
“Let me finish, alright? Think about it for a moment. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have the will to live while the whole of Tokyo sees me as the carrier of a virulent plague. Choosing suicide would be the easier path. An instant of determination, or a lifetime; I think you can tell which is the hard choice. And that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Death is the easy choice. And when push comes to shove, I don’t truly think I have what it takes to make the hard decision.”
After that, we continue to walk in silence, leaving me to think more about what I said. In my scenario, sacrificing yourself might certainly be the right thing. It might even be called heroic, another one for the books. But choos- ing death for yourself, no matter the practicality of such an action, seems the foolish thing to do. Struggling through the slings and arrows allows us to put ourselves to right, and emerge as better people. That’s true bravery, which I don’t think I could muster. I don’t say it though, since I feel like Shiki is getting annoyed at me again, looking at me doubtfully after my answer.
“Anyway,” I try to conclude awkwardly, “Each person has his own answers, I guess.”
“You’re different, though,” says Shiki, as if reading my mind. Shiki said it in the usual cold front, granted, but it feels as if there’s a compliment in there somewhere. Slightly taken aback, I couldn’t bring myself to answer it, and we continue to walk through the city silently. Pretty soon I can hear the the bustle of people and the noise of engines. It sounds like we’re nearing the city’s main street, with its ostentatious display of lights and sounds, accompanied by the wave of people commuting home after a day’s work. I can just make out the department stores in the distance, and not too far after that is the train station. Shiki stops suddenly.
“Mikiya, stay over at my place tonight.” “What in th—“
Shiki takes me by the shoulder in a gesture firmly in the “just fucking do it, c’mon” variety. Shiki’s apartment is closer, and it would be easier that way, but I don’t think I really should on moral grounds.
“It’s all right, really,” I try to say. “It’d be boring even if I do go there. Or are you saying there’s something you need me to do?” I know there really wasn’t anything, so this should have been the end of the discussion, and yet Shiki looks at me accusatorily, like I was at fault.
“Strawberry.”
“Er…”
“Those goddamn ice cream cups you bought a while back. They’re still there. Eat the damn things.”
“Well, I suppose I did buy them.” Got me there. I bought that on a hot day on my way to Shiki’s home. Was it really that hot? It’s almost Septem- ber after all. Well, whatever. Not like it matters in the grand scheme of things. Shiki’s pulling any excuse to get me to stay, and I suppose I have no choice but to follow. But I can at least make a feeble attempt to strike back. There is a topic—serving almost like a trigger—which, when brought to discussion, makes Shiki mad but unable to retort back properly. It’s about something I really want Shiki to do, but in this matter, the universe seems to have seen it proper to bestow upon Shiki the stubbornness of mules.
“I can see there’s no persuading you. All right, I’ll stay over. But Shiki…” Harsh eyes look at me, and I respond with as serious a face I can muster. “’Eat the damn thing?’ Such unseemly words. I’d really like it if you did something about that. I mean, you are a girl after all.”
Right on target. After I say “girl,” she points a finger at her lips and says “Hey, my mouth, my choice of words. Got it?”