The Part of Me That Isn't Broken Inside by Kazufumi Shiraishi

Author:Kazufumi Shiraishi [Shiraishi, Kazufumi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781943150250
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15

HONOKA, WHOM I HADN’T seen in a while, was hardly recognizable.

Her body, which used to be skinny, had become remarkably more fleshy around her shoulders and chest, while her legs, clad in jeans, retained their slender charm as before, making her physique appear all the more feminine. Even her looks, which used to be memorable for the prominence of her large eyes on an angular, lackluster face, had become really lovely, her now plump cheeks and lips hiding the former sharpness of her features. Even if Eriko were to stand next to her, you’d be hard-pressed to notice any striking differences between the two, as there had been before. Even her tone of voice, eye color, and facial expressions exuded a cheerfulness that made it hard to believe she was the same Honoka I used to know. Although I’d heard rumors, seeing her in person like this only filled me with admiration for Eriko’s astuteness.

Raita also, compared to the time I drank with him in Nakano, was looking fine. Working part-time to pay off his debts while simultaneously managing a change of residence, he couldn’t hide his fatigue, but he still seemed ready and eager to face the day when he’d finally leave Torimasa to embrace his new future.

These past several days, it seems Honoka had worked hard, having undertaken full responsibility for packing his luggage and handling particular arrangements at the new address.

According to Eriko, the relationship between Raita and Honoka had rapidly progressed since the year began.

So you think they’ve bedded each other already? I asked every time the two came up in our conversations. Eriko would always laugh and say, That’s all you think about, isn’t it? Apparently they’re putting off things like that until later.

She also emphasized that it was Raita, and not Honoka herself, who deserved the credit for her dramatic change.

A woman changes, after all, when she applies herself to her main profession, Eriko said with feeling once, so I asked her, What do you mean by main profession?

You fool, she yelled. I mean men, of course.

The apartment Raita rented was in a place that was about fifteen minutes away by foot from Seibu Shinjuku Line’s Numabukuro Station, in the direction of Ekoda. From Torimasa it would take less than twenty minutes to reach, moving directly north along the Loop Seven Kanana road. Raita’s baggage wasn’t that considerable, and so it was decided that the four of us would help him move on May 3, when my holiday coincided with Eriko’s.

We promised to assemble at Torimasa at nine. Although I drove away from my apartment before eight and picked up Eriko at Ningyocho before heading for Nakano, the roads in Tokyo were almost completely empty that day—since it was the middle of the holiday-studded week—so we ended up arriving in less than forty minutes. I went around to the back of the shuttered shop, pulled open the old, unlocked wooden door there, and climbed up a steep and narrow staircase, ahead of Eriko. It was silent inside the house.

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