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[Ten Views Of Shonan -Light-] - Ariake A Route Short Story

Spoilers for Ariake's A Route!

In summer, Kamakura is filled with the scent of the sea.

As bathers change from their swimsuits to yukata, they begin to crowd the area around Tsurugaoka Hachiman Shrine.

That day, we had agreed to meet up beneath the Great Tori Gate.

Shinagawa: “Good evening.”

Oosaki: “Good evening, Shinagawa-kun. What—”

Shinagawa: “C’mon, where’s your greeting?”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “...”

Shinagawa: “Hey, introduce yourself.”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “......”

Hiding behind his older brother’s back, the boy tugged on Shinkiba-san’s sleeve and peered at me.

He had a red oni mask on his head made of paper—perhaps a leftover from Setsubun—with slightly crushed horns. [1]

From that, I could tell it was his favorite.

I crouched down to meet him at eye level, but he immediately protested and turned away.

Shinagawa: “Ringo. Stop being so antisocial already. It’s rude.”

Oosaki: “Please don’t worry about it. I’m the one at fault for wearing a black yukata. It makes me look scary, like a nurikabe.” [2]

Shinagawa: “No, no, no, not at all.”

Shinkiba: “If you’re a nurikabe, then perhaps I’m a nurarihyon in my brown yukata, and these two are a pair of crimson oni brothers.” [3]

Shinagawa: “What has our detective agency become…”

Shinkiba: “That said, I think everyone looks splendid in their yukata.”

Shinkiba-san looked the happiest to be here.

Actually, it was him who had invited us to the festival.

He’d even taken it upon himself to buy everyone matching yukata.

However, I was the only one who couldn’t seem to get used to the outfit.

Oosaki: “Did we have to wear these?”

Shinkiba: “Oosaki-kun, if you’re going to a festival then a yukata is mandatory.”

Then, Shinkiba-san turned with a light clack of his wooden sandals and passed through the Great Tori Gate.

The rest of us were left with no choice but to follow.

ʚɞ

The road leading to Tsurugaoka Hachiman Shrine was lined on both sides with trees which provided a cool respite from the summer heat.

As the evening hours encroached and the lighting grew dim, shadows began to obscure the faces of the people around us.

Our sleeves rustled as we brushed past one another, but there was no one in a hurry and no one being rushed along.

The wide pathway narrowed before long and people streamed into the shrine grounds where the dazzling lights of the street stalls greeted them.

Festivals are rife with deceit—

Rainbow-colored chicks.

Rigged children’s games. [4]

Lotteries no one can win.

—At a festival, such things are permissible.

To experience the extraordinary, we must first be deceived.

In the midst of this, my eyes alone wandered from stall to stall.

Shinagawa: “Senpai, are you looking for something?”

Oosaki: “Yes. …Could we take a closer look over there?”

Shinagawa: “I don’t mind, but, huh…”

There it was—the place I’d been looking for—a mask vendor.

Hidden below an assortment of foxes, monkeys, rabbits, and other lucky masks was a singular red oni.

I picked it up without the slightest hesitation.

It had a charmingly crooked smile like a child had scribbled it on.

When I placed the mask on my face and turned around, Ringo-kun suddenly popped up before me. He approached with interest.

Shinagawa’s Brother: “You’re one of us!”

Shinagawa: “Oh, so now you’re talking…”

Shinkiba: “It seems he’s a good kid after all.”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “Let’s hold hands!”

Oosaki: “Of course.”

Shinagawa: “I suppose it’s fine if Senpai’s fine with it…”

From there, we ventured deeper into the shrine grounds.

Water yoyos, ring tossing, shooting games. The laughter of children fills the air.

It occurs to me that the mask slipped off my forehead at some point, but even with my true face revealed, Ringo-kun continues to smile.

As the darkness settles in, the shrine maidens emerge and light the bonbori lanterns.

The Bonbori Festival is a purification ritual that occurs every August in Kamakura.

Rectangular lanterns made of washi paper are displayed, each with a painting on one side.

These works were created by artists connected to Kamakura.

To see a hundred of these lined up in a row is a magnificent sight to behold.

The area around the warmly lit lanterns had fallen mysteriously silent.

Everyone was captivated by the illuminated images as if they were being drawn in.

Then, Shinkiba-san broke the silence with his conspicuously cheerful voice.

Shinkiba: “Alright, shall we go find our dear Oosaki’s lantern?”

At that moment.

Within the crowd, I thought I saw a familiar face.

He crossed the street and disappeared down an unlit road that led to a pond.

I couldn’t help but trace his path into the darkness.

Shinkiba: “Oosaki-kun? Are you alright?”

Oosaki: “Yes…”

Shinagawa: “Ah!”

Shinagawa-kun suddenly shouted and pointed at something.

—I recently took a job from a writer in Kamakura.

We ended up having a conversation about watercolor painting,

And as a result, I received a special opportunity to paint a lantern.

The subject I had chosen was a sunset-view of the sea.

It was the kind of fleeting scenery you wouldn’t be able to find in broad daylight.

Illuminated by the warm flame of the candles, the painting glowed a gentle pink.

It was as if the waves were sparkling beneath the sun.

Shinkiba: “Your painting has a quiet beauty—it cleanses the soul. I’m glad we all came to see it.”

Shinagawa: “...That island on the edge is Enoshima. And in the distance you can see the faint outline of Mount Fuji. Which is to say, this must be a view of the Shonan seaside. From the perspective, I’d guess we’re on the side of a mountain, perhaps gazing at the scenery from the veranda of a house… Well? Am I right?”

Oosaki: “On every point.”

There were only a few clouds in the sky on the day of this sunset.

The gradient that formed as noon turned to night was bright and clear.

From the strange color of the sea, it could’ve easily been morning.

We watched it together—he and I.

“How beautiful,” he’d murmured as he began to drift off.

Truthfully, there’s a certain person I wanted to see this painting with.

However, he’d turned my invitation down.

I was hallucinating phantoms of Ariake-san within the crowd.

It was as if I was possessed.

Just as I was about to clear my head, Ringo-kun suddenly tugged on my sleeve.

Shinagawa’s Brother: “Are you sure you don’t want to go? To find the person you’re looking for?”

…Who?

Oosaki: “I’m not looking for anyone.”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “But you are?”

Oosaki: “Even if I am, there’s nothing I could do right now.”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “He was dragging his foot, like it was in pain.”

Oosaki: “...”

Shinagawa’s Brother: “Are you really sure?”

Ringo-kun’s eerie voice felt like a gentle stab.

He couldn’t have possibly known anything about the two of us, yet he seemed worried all the same.

…It would appear he was just as sharp as his brother.

I freed myself from all the festival goods I’d been entrusted with—

Cotton candy, candy apples, water yo-yos, excessively long fugashi cakes.

—And distributed them to the rest of the party.

Shinagawa: “Senpai?”

Oosaki: “I remembered I have urgent business to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Shinagawa: “Huh!? What about praying at the main shrine? Or checking out the food stands!?”

Oosaki: “We’ll do it next time, no, later.”

With that, I put my mask back on and melted into the crowd.

Shinagawa: “Ahh, wait! I wanted you to get something for me from the shooting game too! Ugh, he’s already gone! …I should’ve just been honest about it earlier!” [5]

Shinkiba: “Being a detective certainly comes in handy.”

Shinagawa: “What are you talking about…?”

ʚɞ

It was silent around the pond.

The light from the bonbori was sparse, and the gagaku music playing near the temple sounded far away.

Ariake-san was sitting on a fence. A man was kneeling at his feet.

His fat fingers were crawling all over Ariake-san’s foot.

Letting this happen, he laughed as if it tickled.

I stood within the shadow of the trees.

…So this was the reason Ariake-san was being so evasive when I called him last week.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves, allowing light to seep through the cracks.

Ariake: “—Oosaki-san?”

Just as I was about to leave, a voice stopped me from behind.

If I wanted to run, I still could.

However, my hesitation became my answer.

Ariake: “Ah, it hurts—”

Ariake-san had attempted to stand up, but he fell.

I gallantly rushed over to him.

Supporting his arms, I helped him back up.

But he simply collapsed against me.

Ariake: “Since I don’t often wear these sandals, I ended up twisting my ankle… However, everything’s fine now that you’re here to help me, Oosaki-san.”

Oosaki: “...”

Ariake: “You are Oosaki-san, aren’t you?”

He asked, despite being entirely sure of the answer.

With no other choice, I took off my mask.

I didn’t know what kind of expression I was making, but I couldn’t help but feel as if some dark, ugly feeling had come to light.

…Who was that man?

Doubt had rooted itself into my heart.

Still clinging onto me, Ariake-san smiled at the man.

Ariake: “Thank you for accompanying me here, but I’ll be alright now. He’ll be with me from now on.”

Man: “Who is he…?”

Ariake: “Oosaki-san is my—”

I gave the man a curt nod and roughly steered Ariake-san away.

ʚɞ

We silently walked down the main pathway of the shrine.

Since the lantern viewing was in full swing, there was no one besides us heading out.

I sat Ariake-san down on the stone steps by the Great Tori Gate and began to feel his foot.

I couldn't tell if his ankle was sprained with just a glance, but he did have a few blisters on his toes.

Oosaki: “Can I pop these blisters for you?”

Ariake: “...Huh?”

Oosaki: “If you pop them now, the pain subsides faster.”

Ariake: “Oh… No, they’re fine as is. Is that what you usually do?”

Oosaki: “I did it often when I was young.”

Ariake: “...Did it not hurt?”

Oosaki: “Only at first.”

Ariake: “I… think you might be an exception.”

Oosaki: “...”

It was a perfunctory medical treatment. I had let my hatred of the doctor’s slip.

However, what made me even more restless…

Was the fact that I was in the exact position as the man from before.

Oosaki: “...I’ll call a taxi so you can go home.”

Ariake: “Are you not going to ask me why I’m here?”

Oosaki: “...”

I couldn’t come up with a reply.

His eyes were pinned on me, and I was sure I was looking back.

However, I couldn’t help but notice the sweat on the back of his neck, the slenderness of his fingers as they trembled.

There was no way to hide my wandering gaze.

Oosaki: “...Shall we take a break?”

ʚɞ

There’s a small teahouse on a path that splits from the road.

We were led to a tatami mat room on the second floor.

Ariake-san sat in a chair with one leg propped up, an ice pack on his foot.

A kind attendant had made it for him.

I sat in the seat directly across, gazing at the bright sky above the shrine grounds.

I think the conversation had stopped on my end.

Oosaki: “...Who was that person?”

Ariake: “A junior from work. He wanted me to come and see the lantern he’d painted.”

Oosaki: “Should you have left him behind?”

Ariake: “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s with the others.”

Oosaki: “The others?”

Ariake: “We came with a group of coworkers.”

Oosaki: “...I see.”

Hearing that, my shoulders clearly sagged with relief.

…Ariake-san didn’t come alone with that man after all.

Ariake: “He was raised in Kamakura, so he often played around Hachiman Shrine as a child. When I hurt my foot, he knew exactly where to take me to rest.”

Oosaki: “If he’s a local, then he should be fine navigating on his own.”

Ariake: “They’re probably meeting up around the main shrine now.”

Oosaki: “...That said. I heard only professional artists could paint a lantern. He must be exceptionally talented.”

Ariake: “Apparently, he’s won several awards and was recommended for the task. It really was a beautiful lantern.”

Oosaki: “...”

I pretended to drink tea to hide my lips.

To muddle my reply.

I meant to swallow it all down, but I couldn’t hold it in, and everything came pouring out.

Oosaki: “The two of you must be very close.”

Ariake: “Ehe?”

Oosaki: “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

Ariake: “Ah— What you saw back there… He’d said something that was a bit troubling for me, so I was trying to laugh it off.”

Oosaki: “What was it?”

Ariake: “Hmm, I can’t say.”

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

Ariake: “Why did you come to the festival?”

Oosaki: “I saw the lights on my way back from a job and thought I’d take a quick look.”

Ariake: “You had a job… that required you to wear a mask and yukata?”

Oosaki: “That’s… confidential information, so I can’t answer your question.”

Ariake: “Were you tracking someone?”

Oosaki: “I can’t answer that either.”

Ariake: “Well then, it seems like we’re both keeping secrets today.”

The ice in his glass rattled, making a light noise.

Or perhaps the sound was from Ariake-san’s eyes flicking towards me.

He was wearing a devilish grin.

Ariake: “Tell me, why are you angry?”

Oosaki: “Angry? I’m not—”

Ariake: “Is it because of him? Or perhaps me?”

Oosaki: “...”

Ariake: “It’s fine, you know. You can lash out if you’d like. We’re lovers, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we be able to tie each other down?”

It sounded like there was a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Ariake: “The very fact that we were allowed into this teahouse is proof of our love. Anyone can see how close we are.”

Oosaki: “The attendant was just concerned about your foot. …It’s the same as with your colleague.”

Ariake: “Oh, but I think he’ll ask me again tomorrow—who was that person? And this time, I’d like to answer him properly.”

Oosaki: “Stop it.”

Ariake: “Why?”

Oosaki: “I… don’t particularly mind, but I don’t think it’s good for you to associate yourself with me.”

Ariake: “If you don’t mind, then what’s the issue?”

Oosaki: “...”

Ariake: “Are you not concerned about me whatsoever?"

His perfectly composed smile slipped, unveiling his insecurity.

I had noticed this from the beginning, but Ariake-san was acting differently from usual.

Ariake: “What he said to me back there was that he wanted to bring me to his house and prepare an ice pack for my sprain. There was nothing about popping blisters or calling a taxi to send me home.”

I found my gaze drifting back towards the window.

Then, Ariake-san unexpectedly stood up and squeezed in next to me.

Since the seat was too small, we were practically on top of each other.

If this was a scale, I had the feeling it would tip in Ariake-san’s favor.

…I was completely unfit to call myself his lover.

Oosaki: “...I’m sorry.”

Ariake: “Do you really understand what you’re apologizing for?”

His breath was terrifyingly close.

Ariake: “It must’ve been fun playing that shooting game with all those children around you.”

Oosaki: “!”

Ariake: “That’s right, I saw you first.”

Oosaki: “I have nothing to be guilty about…”

Ariake: “Then why did you lie to me and say you had work?”

—It couldn’t be.

Crossing the road.

Stringing along that man.

Allowing his foot to be touched.

Was everything to spite me?

Ariake: “I couldn’t stand seeing how happy you looked.”

Oosaki: “That’s just the mask’s design…”

Ariake: “What about when you won the heaviest prize from the shooting game?”

Oosaki: “That was pure luck…”

Ariake: “Or when you landed every try at the ring toss?”

Oosaki: “That was a miracle…”

Ariake: “Or when you netted five yo-yos in a single round?”

Oosaki: “That’s… inexcusable.”

I had completely ruined the children’s festival.

Ariake: “However, what I absolutely can’t stand the most… is myself.”

Oosaki: “Ariake-san…”

Ariake: “Without judgment, will you listen to what I have to say?”

Oosaki: “Of course.”

Ariake: “Don’t hold anyone’s hand but mine—”

Even though his opponent was a child.

Even though he had nothing to worry about.

Ariake-san still spat those words out bitterly—

—As if he were a child himself.

His painful confession sank deeply into my chest.

As if to absorb as much of that pain as I could,

I kissed him.

ʚɞ

Love has a way of warping even the kindest people into your enemies.

If this is the way love works,

Then it truly is a foolish and pitiful thing.

However. Despite my fear and anguish, I could never leave Ariake-san’s side.

This, too, is the work of love.

ʚɞ

The next morning.

We walk along the deserted pathway lined with glowing lanterns.

With the clamor of the festival long gone, the pale bonbori seemed reminiscent of ephemeral bones.

Ariake-san wistfully gazed at my painting.

He contemplated it for a long time.

Ariake: “—So this is why you came to the festival.”

Oosaki: “It’s also the reason why I invited you.”

Ariake: “If you had told me, I would’ve changed my plans…”

Oosaki: “I didn’t want to raise your expectations only to disappoint you. I’m only an amateur artist. Compared to everyone else…”

Ariake: “Your painting is amazing.”

He poked at the waves.

It was a subtle, gentle gesture so as not to damage the paper.

Ariake: “...Will you come there next week?”

Oosaki: “Of course.”

Ariake: “I’d love to watch the sunset with you again.”

He tucked his bangs behind his ear and smiled softly.

Then, he straightened up, grabbed my hand,

And took off running.

Ariake: “We have to hurry!”

Oosaki: “Please slow down, Ariake-san!”

Ariake: “I can’t! I have work soon, so I have to get dressed!”

Oosaki: “I understand, but…!”

It didn’t seem like his foot was in pain.

Almost as if there was never any to begin with.

If that was true, it seems I’ve been terribly deceived…

It appears I haven’t escaped the festival just yet.

[Ten Views Of Shonan -Light-] 1956.Ariake A Route

Translation Notes

[1] A Japanese festival that celebrates the coming of spring by throwing beans at family members wearing oni masks to purify the home.

[2] A yokai that appears late at night to obstruct a traveler's way. Sometimes it is depicted as a large wall with a face, other times as a dog-like creature with three eyes.

[3] A yokai that appears as an old man with a gourd shaped head. He is said to be the supreme commander of monsters.

[4] Originally "wet katanuki." Katanuki is a children's game that involves carving shapes out of a slab of candy without it breaking. If the katanuki is wet, the game becomes more difficult.

[5] Shinagawa typically uses the same atypical first-person pronoun (jibun) as Oosaki out of admiration, but in his bewildered state, he switches to a more common one (ore) which I think is cute.

#ooe #oosaki “fell for it again award”

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