Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/16817139558323866579/episodes/16817330669175330502
My part-time job is closed from New Year’s Eve through the first three days of the new year.
I hear that if there are competing stores nearby, they might open even if it means operating at a loss, but the only other convenience store in this area isn’t even open 24 hours.
As the store manager, there doesn’t seem to be much benefit in keeping it open.
So, I’m spending New Year’s Eve relaxing in my room.
It would have been nice to have a kotatsu, but all I have is a small electric blanket and a folding low table.
I plan to get by with a blanket, a half-coat, and a hot water bottle. Unfortunately, the air conditioner isn’t very reliable.
There are quite a few things left behind by the previous tenant in this room, but there is no TV. I don’t watch much TV anyway, so I didn’t bother to buy one.
I listen to the New Year’s Eve bell tolling on my smartphone while slurping instant soba noodles.
Suddenly remembering, I look up and see an overly elaborate mochi rice cake, standing out awkwardly in the simple room.
“……..”
Well, it’s not bad.
I didn’t know this before because I’ve never really seen one, but when properly decorated, mochi rice cakes can actually look quite stylish.
So far, there doesn’t seem to be any sign of mold, so that’s good.
Apparently, you have to break it to eat it, so I prepared a wooden mallet along with various decorative tools.
I got everything ready, but since I’m a complete New Year’s Eve novice, I’ve been feeling a bit anxious the whole time.
I’ve never received a New Year’s gift, and I have no idea what ozoni or osechi are. It feels like I’m trying to navigate an unfamiliar place with a hand-drawn map.
Of course, I’ve seen them before and know they exist.
But just like how knowing table manners doesn’t mean you can do them perfectly when asked, being told to suddenly do something you’re not used to just leaves you flustered.
I went to a shrine with friends when I was in high school, so I understand what New Year’s visits are about.
There were just so many people. I’m not good with crowds, so I haven’t gone on my own since then.
Apparently, just praying from afar is enough, so this year I plan to pray from my room.
Just praying from afar counts as visiting. Gods are so kind.
I wish the gods who hang out at convenience stores were that kind too.
“Oh, it’s dawn.”
I stared blankly at the changing date for a while.
Then, on a whim, I opened the messaging app.
The guy living next door has no friends other than me at the moment. No one else has become a friend to him.
It’s a sad story, but to be honest, my ‘friends’ list isn’t much better.
Everyone from my previous workplace has either blocked me or been blocked by me, and the acquaintances I exchanged contact information with out of obligation have no connection beyond the initial greeting.
The only person whose contact information actually works is Kandou san.
The rest is just one friend from high school. I haven’t had proper contact with that friend for nearly two years.
The last time I contacted him was when I submitted my withdrawal papers and fled.
I sent him a message saying I wouldn’t be able to contact him for a while, and after hesitating for a moment, my friend—Hayato—sent back an “OK” stamp.
A few months later, I received a stamp of a character peeking out from behind something, as if to show concern, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply.
It should have been fine to reply with a short message or a stamp, but the act of replying itself felt incredibly burdensome.
In the end, I just marked it as read and left it alone, and even now that I’ve calmed down, I still can’t bring myself to contact him.
Perhaps he sensed something, as he didn’t press the issue further.
Or maybe he simply no longer had the time to spare for high school friends.
Hayato is a sociable guy, unlike me, and he has many other friends.
So even if someone like me were to die, it would probably be a bit of a shock, but over time, it would fade and be forgotten.
That was more of a wish than a prediction.
I wanted Hayato to live happily without worrying about my life or death. He was someone who had his own struggles.
When we first met, Hayato seemed perfect and flawless to me, like a person who embodied my ideals.
His father worked at a company I knew, and his mother was a tutor. He had an older brother who was bright and athletic, a younger brother who was cute, and Hayato himself was also talented.
Maybe it was because he had a younger brother that he was so considerate. Once we became friends, Hayato helped me in just the right way, keeping a good distance.
If I hadn’t met Hayato, I would have continued living the same life I did until middle school.
I probably wouldn’t have even considered going to college by taking out a scholarship, and I might not have thought about improving my circumstances any further.
Hayato’s words resonated with me far more than those of adults. For me back then, Hayato was probably more of a ‘teacher’ than anyone else.
Why did such an amazing person want to be friends with me?
The answer to that question came two years after we became friends.
One day, when we went out to play together, Hayato casually brought up the topic.
“You know, my grandma is a little crazy.”
His tone was unusually bright, almost slippery.
I couldn’t help but glance at him, but Hayato was looking off into the distance, and our eyes didn’t meet.
I suppose he didn’t want to make eye contact.
Hayato’s house is shared with his paternal grandmother.
Apparently, she’s been obsessed with a strange fortune-teller for years and has been imposing odd rules on the family for a long time.
These rules range from trivial things like the arrangement of objects to unacceptable things like the timing of each person’s bowel movements.
Perhaps because she is his father’s biological mother, he takes his grandmother’s side and believes that as long as they provide the money, everything will be fine, and his mother is putting up with it and refusing to leave her side, saying that she wants all of her children to go to college.
“The other day, Grandma hit Mom on the head with a stick, saying it was part of a ritual. There was blood. But no one—not Dad, not my brother, not even Mom herself—suggested going to the hospital. I got scared. Scared, I guess, or maybe just creeped out.
But if Grandma weren’t there, everyone would be normal, so I don’t want them to divorce. And that makes me feel creepy too. When people say things like, ‘Hayato is so kind for taking care of the wound,’ I think, ‘No, this isn’t kindness or anything like that,’ and I just get confused…”
He didn’t seem to be talking because he wanted to. He just blurted it out because he felt like he had to get it off his chest.
When I heard it, I was pretty surprised. I didn’t think he trusted me enough to share such personal details.
Hayato was someone who couldn’t stand hearing or saying bad things about others.
If someone tried to make fun of someone else, he’d sense it and change the mood, and sometimes he’d even take on the role of the joker himself.
If even Hayato says she’s “crazy,” then that old lady must really be… razy.
Apparently, the reason Hayato was at a high school I could attend was because of that old woman.
She kept ranting about how this or that was bad, or how such-and-such a disaster was coming, and it was impossible to have a conversation with her, so he gave up and changed his school choice.
“But hey, thanks to that, I got to meet you, so I guess it was worth it.”
I don’t remember what I replied at the time.
It was such an unexpected thing to say that I think I responded with something incredibly bitter.
All I remember is Hayato approaching me with a look that seemed to say he was deeply offended.
“That’s not it ! I approached you because I thought you were the most normal person in the class !”
I was taken aback, then laughed a little.
It was almost the first time anyone had ever called me “normal.”
“…Are you doing okay?”
I muttered quietly while staring at the screen.
Well, it’s Hayato, so he’s definitely doing fine.
I wanted to keep in touch because I didn’t know what would happen in the future, but at the same time, I didn’t want him to remember me now.
I had mixed feelings swirling inside me.
After some hesitation, no, a lot of hesitation, I sent a simple “Happy New Year.”
If I sent it right after the date changed, it would get buried among the countless other messages. If he replied, that would be fine, and even if he just read it, that would be enough. If he didn’t respond at all, that would be fine too.
While cleaning up the remaining soup, I brewed some tea with water from the kettle I had just reheated.
Apparently, you’re not supposed to sleep on New Year’s Eve. I had always just gone about my usual routine without thinking about it, so this year I decided to try staying awake.
While sipping my tea, I peeled the mandarin orange I had received from the building manager.
I carefully peeled the skin, then took a segment and put it in my mouth.
“Ugh, it’s sour…’
I ended up with a sour one. After finishing it, I didn’t want to end on a sour note, so I took another one.
This time it was sweet, so I was satisfied, but then the ringtone sounded.
“Whoa.”
I jumped slightly in surprise. Why is a late-night call so scary? Well, not just late at night, but anytime.
I’m just the type who hates answering the phone. Even if it’s a call I could hang up on, I don’t want it to come in the first place.
However, since the name displayed on the screen was Hayato, I lightly wiped my fingertips before tapping it. I set it to speaker mode.
[Hello? Takahiro?]
Hayato called me Takahiro, just like he did when we were students.
My real name has four kanji characters, and the reading includes a long vowel mark. Well, to be honest, it’s not a name you would give to a human being.
After meeting Hayato, I thought about it for a while and decided to let him call me Takahiro.
I had planned to change my name eventually, but in the end, other things took priority, and here I am now.
According to Mitsuki, when it comes to neighbors, it’s not a bad thing if the name you’re called and your real name are different, so I plan to keep it this way for now.
Of course, there are times when it’s unpleasant, but it’s better than it used to be.
I forced myself to speak calmly, despite the lump in my throat.
“Long time no see.”
[Oh, long time no see. How are you? Are you doing okay?]
“I’m doing okay, I guess.”
I am doing okay. When asked if I’m okay, it’s a little complicated.
When I asked him how he was doing, Hayato replied in a cheerful voice.
[I’m also doing okay. The club and stuff are fun, but also a hassle. Oh, we’re having a drinking party soon. Want to come?]
“No way.”
[Hahaha, yeah, I know ! You do hate crowds.]
His voice is just like it was in high school, clear and easy to hear. It’s so nostalgic that I almost tear up.
Crying in this situation would be a bit embarrassing. I pretended to sip my tea while roughly covering my eyes.
[Well, let’s go out for drinks sometime.]
“…Sure, if my schedule is free.”
My schedule is always free, but I hesitated for some reason at the thought of seeing him again.
Hayato seemed to sense this and said with a smile, “Okay, I’ll adjust my schedule, so just tell me when you’re free.” It seemed like he knew everything.
It’s not that I don’t want to see him, it’s just my personality.
With a wry smile, I told him my schedule, and we easily decided to meet at the end of the month.
He said he would contact me again when the date got closer, and I thought the call was over, but Hayato continued in a slightly suspicious tone.
[Hey…]
“What?”
[Takahiro, are you with someone right now?]
“No.”
Before I could say I was alone, a light-hearted voice rang out.
[I’ve been hearing someone calling since a while ago. Is it just my imagination?]
I quietly looked up.
As far as I could tell from the bed, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“…Calling someone? You mean me?”
[Ah, no. More like, ‘Hey’ From somewhere far away.]
“…Hmm.”
I pretended it was nothing and looked around the room.
It was a small room. It took less than five seconds to check, and sure enough, there was no one else there.
The silence that followed as I waited for his response felt unbearably quiet, and my ears hurt.
“The apartment I’m living in now is prone to interference.”
[What? On your smartphone? Which one are you using?]
“A really cheap one.”
[Still, that’s weird. Smartphones have signals, right? Oh, wait, I can still hear it.]
“From far away?”
[Yeah, pretty far away.]
“…Does it sound like a good voice?”
[Hmm? It’s a guy, but….he sounds pretty young? Maybe a kid?]
So it’s not a neighbor.
Well, sometimes my neighbor’s voice sounds like a child’s, but she’s asleep right now, so she wouldn’t be calling out…I think.
“…I want to try something, so stick with me.”
[Huh? What is it?]
With Hayato looking puzzled, I stood up with my smartphone in hand.
First, I headed toward the front door.
“Did the voice get closer?”
[Um…no, it sounds the same as before.]
Next, the bathroom.
“How about now?”
[No, it’s the same.]
Just to be sure, I approached the bed.
“How about here?”
[It’s the same. What is this? A prank?]
“Well, maybe something like that.”
Thinking that I’d hate it if it were here, I stood in front of the closet.
[Is it far away?]
“I see.”
[What?]
Well, I wonder what “I see” means. I don’t understand either.
Anyway.
Since there was no other choice, I approached the kitchen cabinet, which I had left until last.
[Ah, it’s close. It’s close, close. What? What am I being made to do right now?]
“Really…”
[What !? Takahiro, explain yourself~]
“No, I can’t explain it either.”
[What? Let go of me, I don’t like this.]
It was a perfectly reasonable request, so I obediently pulled my phone away.
I couldn’t hear anything, but judging from Hayato’s reaction, it seemed to still be ringing.
For now, I pretended I hadn’t heard anything and quietly placed my phone back on the coffee table.
I sighed, and Hayato, who had been waiting patiently for an explanation, asked cautiously.
[Eh? So, what’s going on?]
“…The person living in the room next door is a bit strange.”
I said it as an excuse, but it ended up being the truth.
My neighbor is, well, definitely a bit strange. The kitchen shelves and the neighbor’s room are completely opposite each other.
[Shouldn’t you move?]
“Well, you know, I’m living here because I get a rent subsidy. Anyway, it’s usually quiet.”
[Oh, I see.]
Hayato seemed to be convinced (or rather, decided to be convinced) and left me with the words, “Call the police if it gets dangerous,” before finally hanging up.
Well.
I was left alone in the quiet room.
There wasn’t even a futon.
It doesn’t come out at times like this. It gets in the way when it’s not needed.
“…Really?”
Is the photo calling me?
Maybe I should have thrown it away sooner. No. I might not like it if something happened as a result of throwing it away without knowing.
I listened intently, not moving a muscle, but the room remained silent.
As always, the apartment was eerily quiet.
Since I can’t hear anything with my ears, I should just ignore it.
The only thing that bothers me is what I can hear. It’s like a mosquito sound.
“……………”
I was tired of the silence, so I tapped the screen to watch some random video. But for some reason, my finger ended up on the recording app instead.
If I can hear it through my phone, maybe I can record it too.
If I can’t record anything, then the voice is only coming through the call.
I opened the recording app, pressed start—and then immediately stopped.
Within a few seconds of starting, the waveform displayed was already more than sufficient. It was clearly picking up a significant amount of sound.
There was no need to listen further.
I deleted the recording and spent the rest of the night watching videos of my favorite comedians.
I chose to ignore the fact that the door to the shelf was slightly open.
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