The thing before Yoshiki reached toward Yoshiki’s torso with its right hand, which sported a boorish wristwatch. The right hand belonged to Hikaru Indou, who wore a watch on his right wrist even though that was his dominant hand.

The insides of the creature before Yoshiki overtook his vision, and the sour taste of stomach acid crept up into his mouth from the back of his throat.

“This is the first time I’ve lived as a human,” the creature said. “School, friends, ice cream—I’m enjoyin’ all of them for the first time ever. I may be borrowin’ this body an’ personality, but my feelings for you are real.”

To Yoshiki’s chagrin, the person in front of him smelled just like Hikaru. Even the feel of his sweaty palms was just like Hikaru’s.

Why are his hands shaking? Is it me who’s shaking, or is it him?

“So please,” the person told him. “I don’t want to kill you.”

The buzzing of the cicadas disappeared. Now the sound of Yoshiki’s own breathing filled his ears, and beyond that, he heard a voice say, He’s a fake.

Through his bangs, Yoshiki could see the side of the thing’s face. It wasn’t the side that had crumbled open and spilled its contents but a profile of Hikaru Indou’s perfect face.

He wondered why there were tears running down from that thing’s eye and considered the significance of the tears running from his left eye in the exact same manner. As those thoughts crossed his mind, Yoshiki took a large breath, inhaling Hikaru’s scent.

“Fine,” Yoshiki said.

At any rate, Hikaru’s not around anymore.

If that’s how it is…

“Okay…Hikaru. Nice to meet ya.”

I think it was last summer.

We were playin’ video games in Hikaru’s living room. I’m sure it was summer—I remember the sticky heat clingin’ to the nape of my neck, the faint coolness of the tatami mat, and glasses of barley tea drippin’ with condensation.

“Hey, Hikaru.”

Even when Yoshiki called out to him, Hikaru wouldn’t take his eyes off the TV.

“Whatcha gonna do after you’re done with Kibogayama High?”

It was only then that Hikaru finally stopped what he was doing and looked at Yoshiki.

“Haven’t given it much thought. Prob’ly run my grandpa’s shiitake farm. How ’bout you, Yoshiki?”

“Haven’t really thought ’bout it, either.”

But for as long as I could remember, the only thing I wanted was to leave the village.

This village is surrounded by mountains and has always been the type of place where folks called each other by the name of their family’s business instead of their actual surnames. The connections between people here are deep, for better or worse, and no matter how much the outside world changes, the village’ll stay the same ’til the Earth sees its own destruction. That’s what I wanted to escape.

“Yer smart, so ya can leave this backwater village and go to college in Tokyo,” Hikaru mused.

The casual way in which he said it—like he was separating a two-pack of ice pops—momentarily left me at a loss for words. The place where we were born and raised, the all-too-small Kubitachi Village, was all-too-distant from Tokyo.

But Hikaru didn’t miss Yoshiki’s reaction.

I hadn’t said anything, but Hikaru started laughing.

“Oh, wait. Or is it that you don’t wanna be away from me?”

He kept laughing, even going on to say, “Gross, dude!”

As soon as he said that, I instantly shot back with “How ’bout you go to hell, then?” before telling him “If I do go to Tokyo for college, I’ll be livin’ on my own.”

“Sounds nice. Wish I could do that.”

But what Hikaru didn’t say was, “Maybe I’ll go to Tokyo, too.”

Instead, he then started talking about how he’d head over to my place if he was visiting Tokyo and found himself needin’ to take a crap ’cause he can’t poop in public restrooms when there’s lots of people around, and how he used to crap outside all the time until he was three years old, but he could probably still do it if he wanted to. It was all a bunch of silly nonsense.

“Or maybe I’ll just hang around at yer place all the time. Ya could get yerself a cute girlfriend an’ everythin’, and ya’d never be able to bring her home ’cause I’d always be around.”

And despite all the silliness, he would bring up something like that.

“I ain’t gonna get no girlfriend,” I told him.

“Aw, c’mon now. Y’always get sore whenever we talk about girls.”

Then Hikaru laughed the whole thing off, saying, “I’m sure ya could get yerself a girlfriend,” as he turned back to the TV screen. The conversation ended there.

Next to appear was Hikaru dressed in his winter school uniform. Kibogayama High School’s winter uniform was very traditional: black with a stand-up collar for the boys and a black sailor uniform for the girls. Maybe that was why the hallways in winter appeared even darker than normal.

The hallways were cold that day. The coldness seeped into your body through your shoulder blades.

“Hikaru!” I said.

I tapped Hikaru on the shoulder, but I couldn’t quite remember what I needed from him.

“Oh! Yoshiki! What’s up?”

“So, ’bout this weekend…”

Right. Something was supposed to happen that weekend, but no matter how much I think about it, I can’t remember what it was.

“Ahhh… This weekend’s no good for me. I’m goin’ to the mountains.”

“The mountains? Why?”

At first I thought Hikaru meant he was gonna help with his grandfather’s shiitake farm, but something about the way he said he was going to the mountains felt oddly significant.

“Well, thing is…” Hikaru grinned. “It’s a see-kweht.”

He was doing an impression of our homeroom teacher, Coach Hara. Hikaru was good at mimicking his face, which looked kinda like a drunk tanuki.

Did I laugh at that back then? Or did I get exasperated, thinking, The heck was that? I can’t remember anymore.

And after going to the mountains, Hikaru went missing and returned one week later.

Yoshiki awoke curled up in his bed. The bright morning sun seared his back, making him realize that he’d gone to sleep without closing the curtains the night before.

It was a dream. A dream about Hikaru when he truly was Hikaru. And the last time I saw Hikaru’s face was when he was impersonating Coach Hara… That’s so dumb.

He wanted to laugh about it, but all he could do at that point was bury his face in his sheets. Even holding his breath wouldn’t stop the trembling in his throat.

By his pillow lay the remains of a hastily emptied blister pack of stomach medicine, while the plastic water bottle he used to take it had rolled under his bed.

He then heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. A few seconds later, his mother harshly knocked on the door to his room.

“Yoshikiii!! Come eat breakfast already!”

Even with her angry yelling, he couldn’t get himself to move right away. Ultimately, Yoshiki’s mother dragged him out of bed, and he had to shovel down his breakfast while she complained that his bangs were too long.

“For the love of—! Hikaru’s been waiting for you, y’know! Hurry up!”

Yoshiki finished getting changed and was thrown out the front door before he could even collect his thoughts. The piercing sunlight almost burned his eyes, and the cicadas continued their cacophonous buzzing just as they had the day before.

“Mornin’.”

Hikaru greeted Yoshiki in front of his door with a smile, just as the real Hikaru had for the longest time.

“S-so,” he began, “this mornin’, my mama…”

He had a slightly awkward look on his face and appeared to be acting cautiously—perhaps because of what happened the day before.

“You an idiot? No time for that. We gotta get ta school—don’t wanna be late,” said Yoshiki.

Hikaru nodded with a serious expression, indicating that he was earnestly listening. It seemed as if Yoshiki’s words came as a relief, or perhaps he felt reassured because Yoshiki was treating him just as he had always treated the real Hikaru.

“Okay. We don’ want ol’ Hara gettin’ mad at us again,” said Hikaru.

“Yeah, all the more reason we gotta hurry.”

Walking side by side, they pushed their bikes along an old, narrow road flanked by rice paddies and farmland. No trains ran through Kubitachi Village, and while there were buses, none were convenient for their commute to school.