Prologue Farewell
Dad told me that we were leaving for a far away town in two weeks back when I was still a first grader.
That was the first time I’d ever moved, and ever since then I’ve moved more times than I can count.
My father was an archaeologist, and as such was usually running around the country doing his work, so our house was empty more often than not.
Soon after Kobato was born, our mother died, and that was when our dad stopped his fieldwork immediately and dedicated himself to raising Kobato and I.
I might be biased since I’m his son and all, but I do think he cares about his family.
I mean, when mom was pregnant with me he was aware that he wasn’t around often, and he worked his ass off to buy “a nice house where my lovely wife can raise our children in a town she’s comfortable with.”
He looks pretty sloppy and has an iffy personality, but he’s a skilled and well-known scholar, and had people come to our house to see him quite a lot.
I actually really liked seeing Dad talking about a bunch of complicated stuff with the foreigners and people far older than him who came to see him.
I used to have childish thoughts about him too. Stuff like being at home all the time must’ve been hard and didn’t suit him.
I suppose that’s why whenever he said we were moving, I’d always just think to myself “So it’s that time again huh” and nothing else.
“You’ll have to change schools. Sorry Kodaka.” is what he told me with an apologetic look on his face.
I’m pretty sure a little half-hearted “Uh-huh” or “Oh?” was the extent of my reaction to hearing that.
It’s not that I was holding back for Dad’s sake, I just didn’t really care whether I had to change schools or not.
Not like I had any friends there anyway.
…But.
Although I couldn’t have cared less about changing schools, have to leave my friend was painful.
Back then, I had just one person I could call my friend.
I could probably even call him my best friend.
He helped me out when the rest of the class was picking on me, and although for some reason we had a little fight right after, we became friends.
It went something like, “You’re not half-bad.” “Same to you.”
Everyday as soon as class was over I ran out of school, and hung out with a boy who I assumed went to a different school.
We talked, played games, pretended to be super heroes, pretended to go on explorations, ate sweets, drew stuff, and one day we fought with two of the bullies from before who came back for revenge.
Spending time with him was worth far more to me than something like having 100 friends at school.
I’m sure that he felt the same way.
And that was exactly why I couldn’t say it.
A day went by, then three, then a week, but I still couldn’t tell him I was leaving this town.
I stayed like that, unable to tell him a thing about me moving out of town.
However, I think it was about two days before I had to leave when I told him “I’ve got something important to tell you tomorrow, so you better be here.”
He nodded, and while I’m not sure why, he had a serious look on his face and told me “In that case, I’ve got something important to tell you tomorrow too, Taka.”
We each promised to tell the other “something important” and went home for the day.
The next day.
I opened to doors to my classroom and had a “Hasegawa Farewell Party” that nobody really could’ve cared less about. It ended quickly and I ran out of the school as usual, headed towards our meeting spot in the park.
I never saw him. I waited an hour, two hours, but he never came. I waited until the sun was all the way down, but he still never came.
…And so I left town, without saying a word about it to my one and only best friend.
Even now, 10 years later, it’s still a bitter memory for me.
The day I recalled that farewell was the first day of September in my second year of high school.
The day after the end of summer break.