In the Woods of Memory by Shun Medoruma

Author:Shun Medoruma [Medoruma, Shun]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Stone Bridge Press
Published: 2017-05-22T04:00:00+00:00

OKINAWAN WRITER [2005]

—Surprised to hear from me, aren’t you? Getting a video like this out of the blue. As you can see, I’ve changed quite a bit from ten years ago. That’s because I’ve got a pretty serious illness, and, uh ... well, I’ll tell you about that later. For now, I’ve got a really important favor to ask of you. You’re the only one I know living in Okinawa, so please watch to the end. I’ll explain everything....

I had to admit I was a bit surprised when I saw the name of the sender on the parcel. I had stayed in touch with Matsumoto for only about two or three years after graduating from college. Back then, we spoke on the phone occasionally, and got together for drinks whenever I was in Tokyo. But as time passed, we saw less and less of each other. Our last meeting was during the summer about ten years ago. I was in Tokyo on business, so I gave him a call, and we got together in a coffee shop near Shinjuku Station. But after about half an hour, Matsumoto seemed to be in a hurry and said he had another appointment. As I watched him leaving the shop, I couldn’t help thinking that I’d been a nuisance. After that, I never called him again. He never contacted me either, so I figured our relationship had simply run its course. I didn’t even feel disappointed.

—To tell the truth, I feel kind of embarrassed talking into a camera like this. Guess I should’ve written instead, huh? But, you know, it’s a real strain for me anymore, staring at the computer. So, uh, I hope you don’t mind if I just make a video. Because even like this, I know I won’t finish in one go. Just let me divide it up into a few days, okay? Anyway, thanks for your understanding....

Matsumoto nodded with a weak smile, and then the video cut off. A second later, he reappeared on screen in the same clothes. Obviously, he’d resumed after a short break. Behind the sofa on which he was sitting was a bookcase filled with books and CDs. Though I had no way to know for sure, I assumed he was at home. Matsumoto had loved to read when we were in college. I was curious about what he’d been reading lately, so I hit the pause button and tried to read the titles. But they were too blurry.

I was born and raised in Okinawa. After graduating from high school, I entered a private university in Tokyo. The change of environment was so overwhelming that I wondered if I’d survive the four years required to graduate. The first train ride of my life was when I went to Tokyo for the entrance exam, and other than the Yamanote Line, I struggled to figure out the trains on my own. I was a country bumpkin, and my keen awareness of that fact made me even more withdrawn. So when Matsumoto, a student in my department, spoke to me, I considered it a favor.

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