Planet: Chapter 1 - part 3

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It was a nice day, and there was no work. While others went out to work daily, I only did sometimes. When I told the droopy-eyed guy about being left out of jobs on site, he said, "That’s odd for someone your age. Maybe it’s because you don’t take advances very often."

"They avoid giving jobs to those who have money, just so they can still take a good chunk for room and board," he added.

Now that I think about it, someone else mentioned that before, too. They said, "If you don’t take advances, they’ll think you have money and leave you out." So I started taking an advance of 2,000 yen every day, even if I didn’t need to buy anything. After that, I started getting work regularly, so it worked out.

The cleanup of rubble from the demolition site finished just past noon. I went back to the dorm, took a bath, and it was still daytime. I got a 2,000-yen advance and headed to the convenience store. The droopy-eyed guy showed me the closest store to the dorm. It was a bit far, so it was easy to get lost, but I was managing fine so far.

I bought some cigarettes and ice cream. Sitting in the shade in front of the store, I licked the ice cream. The coldness, sliding down my throat, felt nice and refreshing.

Two boys with backpacks entered the convenience store. The blue sky and their green frog-like backpacks stood out. Mine was black when I had one. I don’t know when it disappeared. I liked it, but maybe Mom threw it out.

I’ve forgotten things from back then, like school. I remember just a bit, though—the classmate who always hit me, and the teacher scolding, "Why do you always forget things?" I hated both of them.

I didn’t understand studying, and just thinking about it made my head hurt. I was impressed by how everyone else could study so well. By junior high, I couldn’t understand anything the teachers said.

When I asked Mom to help me study, even though Dad was always out working, she just said, "Ask your dad."

"Since I’m an alien, you must be one too. If you go back there, you probably won’t need to know any of this."

One day, the aliens came and took Mom back to space. Then they came for Dad, too, and he disappeared. I’m sure they came because we’re family. I wish they’d come for me soon. The droopy-eyed guy mentioned yesterday that a worker from another company died on site. He fell down a rubble chute, and by the time the ambulance arrived, it was already too late. He was an old man, so he probably slipped. Poor guy, it must’ve hurt.

What if I accidentally die too? If I die, I won’t be able to see Mom and Dad up there in space, and I’d hate that.

Let’s think of something nice. Hamsters... I remember we had one in class. It was so cute. I can’t remember what grade I was in, but it would scurry around in its transparent box. Watching it made me think of Mom. She’d move around like that in her room, and she never went outside unless she was with Dad.

I remember going to the beach with Dad and Mom. We held hands, the three of us. It was night, the moon was yellow, and as I got close to the waves, the warm water tickled my feet. When the waves receded, the sand under my feet would slide away with a soft rush—that was fun. Even in the dark, it felt like I could see more clearly, and I ran on the sand. Mom and Dad sat on the dry sand, away from the waves. Was that the only time the three of us went out together? Maybe we went other places too, but I can’t remember.

When I press my fingers together, they get sticky. I hate that feeling. It always happens when I eat ice cream. I tried rubbing my fingers against the convenience store wall; it helped a bit, but I guess I’ll need to wash them to get it all off. Time to head back.

I lit a cigarette and walked. Cigarettes smell like Dad. He always smoked those white-and-blue packs. This is my favorite brand, too.

When I was in third year of junior high, Dad asked me, "What do you want to do about high school?" I didn’t go much because there were kids I didn’t like, and I couldn’t keep up with my studies. When I didn’t answer, Dad placed a hand on my head and said, "Want to work with me?"

When I started doing labor work, it was tough. I was so worn out that by noon, I couldn’t even move. Dad always bought juice for me during breaks and after work. He’d always say, "Just listen to the foreman and do exactly what he tells you."

After we moved into the company dorm together, we left the apartment. Since we ate and worked together, Dad was closer to me after we started working. Whenever I got scolded by a supervisor, he’d pat me on the head, saying, "Don't worry about it," or, "Just be careful next time." If I got hurt, he’d take me to the hospital. Dad was kind. I really wanted to stay with him forever. I wish he’d waited until my turn came to be picked up, too. Maybe going in order is just the way it works. If so, there’s nothing I can do.

There’s a high-lift truck parked by the telephone pole on the sidewalk, surrounded by yellow and black cones. The road is closed. I could walk through here just a moment ago.

"Please cross at the crosswalk back there and use the road on the other side," the guide says, pointing behind me. I have no choice, so I turn back and cross at the crosswalk, even though it’s a detour. As I’m walking, I suddenly stop in my tracks. Wait...where am I? This place doesn’t look familiar at all. I’ve been to the convenience store from the dorm so many times; did I get lost? How annoying. Oh well, if I keep walking, I’ll probably get there eventually. But no matter how far I go, I still don’t see the dorm or the ocean. This isn’t good. I guess I’ll have to ask someone for directions.

"Excuse me," I say, addressing a girl with a red backpack.

"Do you know where Tani Construction is?"

The girl says, "I don’t know," and runs off, keeping her distance. I try asking a boy nearby, but he seems to be hearing-impaired and leaves without saying a word. Finally, I spot an adult and ask him, too. His voice has a bit of an edge as he replies, "I’m not too familiar with this area."

After the unpleasant adult, I spot a boy in a school uniform riding a bike and ask him.

"I don’t know," he says, tilting his head.

"It’s near the ocean," I add.

Looking at his phone, he scratches his head. "That company doesn’t show up on the map, either."

"The ocean’s to the right, so maybe you could head that way and ask someone else if you still need help," he suggests.

Finally, someone helpful. "Thank you very much."

Just as I’m about to leave, he calls after me, "Mister, mister."

"Huh?" I turn around.

"That’s the left. You’re going the wrong way."

Following the direction he points, I walk off. Right and left always get mixed up for me. Sometimes I guess and get it right. Some people never mix it up, but I just can’t seem to figure it out. I wonder how they know. Even grown-ups get confused sometimes, but everyone manages somehow.

Still, no matter how far I walk, I can’t see the dorm or the ocean. If I can’t make it back to the dorm, I’ll have to sleep outside. I don’t want that. I’m hungry, and if I sleep outside, I’ll get bitten by mosquitoes. Maybe someone from the dorm will pass by. If I follow them, I can get back.

I sit down by the side of the road, my feet tired. My throat’s dry. Across the street, there’s a vending machine. I dig into my pants pocket to see if I have any 100-yen coins, and my fingers brush against something soft. I pull it out—it’s a crumpled piece of paper. Maybe a receipt? No, it’s a small square piece of paper with someone’s name and a map-like drawing on the back. Could this be a business card? Must be from someone at the company. I have a feeling this map might show where the dorm is.

"Excuse me," I call out to a woman walking ahead. She’s probably younger than me. She stops and looks over. As I step closer, she takes a small step back.

"Could you help me find my way?" I show her the map on the business card. She peers at it cautiously, as if she’s looking down from a high place, then lets out an "Ah!"

"This is for my friend’s exhibit. I was planning on going there myself," she says quickly, her words becoming a blur as they rush into my head.

"It’s a bit tucked away. I’ll show you the way."

I understand she’s offering to guide me. Looks like I’ll be able to get there if I follow her. Oh, thank goodness—I can make it back to the dorm. Feeling relieved, I follow her. Her hair, bright red like fresh paint, is easy to spot. A good marker.

"Are you a friend of Kan-kun?"

The red-haired woman turned to face me.

"Kan-kun?"

Who’s that?

"The one exhibiting at this gallery is Kan-kun."

Oh, so Kan-kun is someone’s name. Kan... Kan... Was there someone by that name at the dorm? People come and go so often that I don’t remember, but I guess he must be there.

As I was thinking that I still couldn’t see the ocean, the woman stopped and said, "Here we are." We were standing in front of an old, large, single-story house. This wasn’t the company dorm. Where had I been taken? Suddenly, I felt a wave of fear.

The front entrance of the house was a sliding door, left open. The woman asked, "Aren’t you going in?"

"This isn’t the right place."

She replied, "No, it’s correct," and entered the house. But it’s not. What should I do? I was just about to make a move to run when someone came out, led by the woman. A man, young... a guy with a shaved head. The woman said something, and the shaved-headed guy looked at me.

"Hey, are you from the barracks?" the shaved-headed guy asked.

"So you do know him," the woman said, patting his shoulder.

"Well, kind of..." His voice trailed off. "Anyway, see you later. I’ll be in touch," the woman said, walking toward the traffic light. The guy cracked his fingers.

"...I'm glad you came."

Who was this guy? Maybe someone I’d worked with on-site? On his forearm, the one cracking his fingers, I saw a tattoo—a circle, a triangle, and a crescent moon. Could it represent space? Space... I feel like I’ve seen that tattoo somewhere before. Where was it?

"I’m exhibiting inside. Please, take a look."

The circle, triangle, and crescent moon on his inner arm shifted slightly. Suddenly, an overwhelming jumble of noises burst into my mind—gray sea, yellow beer case... Ah, I remember. The guy from that rainy day.

"I want to go back to the company dorm. I don’t know the way. Please show me."

The sound of his cracking fingers stopped abruptly.

"Please show me."

Scratching his chin, he said, "It’s not the kind of road you’d get lost on."

"How about using a GPS on your phone?"

"I... I don’t have a phone."

He fell silent. Maybe he hadn’t heard me, so I repeated, "I don’t have a phone." He then took his phone out of his pants pocket.

"Which company are you with?"

"Tani Construction."

Looking at his phone, he muttered, "It’s not coming up."

"Would you mind coming over here?"

I followed him into the single-story house. The floor was unfinished concrete, open and spacious like a hall. The beams were exposed, making it quite an impressive structure.

The guy sat down at a table on the edge of the room and began sketching something on a postcard-sized piece of paper. When he was done, he showed it to me.

"This is a map. I don’t know your company, but if you get to the beach over here, you should be able to find your way back."

On the white paper, he used the pencil’s tip to trace, "Turn at the corner by this dental clinic, then cross the bridge from there..."

"Um, I don’t understand."

"Huh?"

"I can’t read maps."

The pencil in his hand paused. It didn’t move. I tensed up a little, afraid he’d get mad and call me an idiot.

"...I used to know someone who couldn’t read maps, too."

He looked around the empty house as if searching for someone, then brought his phone close to his face again.

"Once I close up here, I can take you close to it."

Raising his head from the phone, he looked at me.

"Would you mind waiting about thirty minutes?"

"Sure."

It seemed like he was willing to give me a lift to the dorm. How kind of him. I was relieved I’d be able to get back. I might miss dinner, though. Oh well, that can’t be helped. Feeling the tension ease, I suddenly found myself craving a cigarette. I took one out and was about to light it when I heard an anxious voice say, "Um..."

"This area is non-smoking," the guy said, warning me—but his tone wasn’t harsh.

"Oh, sorry."

"It’s fine outside."

I stepped outside, crouched under the eaves, and lit my cigarette. Just a moment ago, I wasn’t sure if I’d even make it back to the dorm, and the thought of having to camp out was awful. But knowing I could get back now made everything alright. This cigarette tastes good. I take long, slow drags, and when I’m done, I stub the butt out with my foot. Gotta make sure it’s fully out, or it could start a fire.

The sun’s beating down, and my forearm feels like it’s sizzling. It’s hot. The afternoon sun here is really intense. Since I’m done with my cigarette, I head back inside. In the shade of the house, it’s actually cool. I spin around once, taking it all in. This place is empty, like a storage room with no furniture.

The guy is still sitting across the table, watching me, maybe. He’s been sitting there the whole time, so I ask, "What are you doing here?"

"It’s a solo exhibition."

"A solo exhibition?"

"I’m here to explain my works and handle sales and such."

Sales... that means selling things.

"What are you selling?"

"The prints on the walls. …You don’t seem too interested, but if you have some time, feel free to take a look."

Prints, so they’re pictures. Art. Something intellectual people do that I wouldn’t understand, even if I looked. I’m not really interested in the art, but I want to see the house. I walk along the walls. It’s old but clean, with thick, sturdy pillars. This is a well-built house.

The pictures on the wall are in large frames, but the images inside are all tiny, about the size of a palm. They’re black and white, with no color. It would look so much nicer with more colors, I think.

Among all the small pictures, there’s one as big as a vinyl floor tile. It’s black and white, with a hazy, round shape amid a mass of lines. I remember seeing something like this in an illustrated book once. It’s a star, I think. I lean in closer. In front of the round shape, there are small dots densely packed here and there. As I look, I start feeling a tightness in my throat, like it’s hard to breathe. It’s almost as if I can hear a creaking noise coming from the picture. What’s causing that creakiness? If the round thing is a star, then maybe this is space. Is space like this? I feel like I’m being pulled into the creaking picture. Could there be a star for me to go back to somewhere in here?

"…Um."

A sudden voice startled me. I turned and found the guy standing right next to me. I hadn’t noticed at all; he was so quiet.

"Oh, sorry. I just noticed you’d been staring at that for a while."

"Oh, yeah. It’s a star in space, right?"

"Hmm, that’s how it looks to you, huh?"

I reached out and touched it. Space was behind the glass.

"I’d usually ask people not to touch, but it’s alright. No one else is around anyway."

I tapped lightly with my fingers. I heard a soft tap tap against the glass.

"I’d like to go there."

Where my mom and dad are. I don’t really understand it, but I want to go somewhere good.

"It’s about time to close up," the guy said.

"I’m going to turn off the lights. Is that okay? Turning them off now."

The room suddenly went dark, and the picture disappeared. Ah, he did mention he’d turn them off. The guy was by the table near the entrance, where there was still a bit of light. I walked through the darkness toward the bright spot.

"I’ll be cleaning up, so could you wait outside?" he said.

I stepped outside. Under the eaves, it was darker than before, so I lit another cigarette. I heard rustling sounds from inside. Suddenly, the lights went out completely, making everything around me pitch-black. The tip of my cigarette glowed faintly.

The guy came out, locking the sliding door behind him with his backpack on. "This way," he said, leading the way, and I followed him. Even though it was night and dark, I could see the road. Streetlights, car headlights passing by—they all helped. Even though the road ahead was dark, I could see things in my mind that weren’t visible.

"It just keeps popping into my head," I said.

The guy in front of me looked back.

"The creaky star, that picture of space."

"That’s not a picture; it’s a print."

Prints aren’t pictures? I didn’t really get it, so I just said, "Oh." That’s a safe enough response.

The guy walked between the houses, and I felt reassured by his presence. Then he stopped, looking down at his phone. "It’s hard to tell when it’s dark. I don’t know this area well, either," he said, scratching his head.

We walked, stopped, and walked again… then a sudden whiff of salt filled the back of my nose. Even though it hadn’t rained, the air was damp. My sandals sank softly into the ground with a squish. Ah, I’ve made it to the sand. Swoosh, swoosh—the sound of the waves. The night sea. The dark sea. The moon is out. I’d come here at night with Mom and Dad, and the sand flowed under my feet… The guy stopped and pointed. “Over there.”

“Isn’t that it? That building with the lights on looks like a dormitory.”

In the distance, there was a dark shape with a window glowing. Is that the dorm? It could be, but maybe not.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not take a closer look?”

I walked toward the lit-up window, and then, off to the side of the path, something dark and vague appeared. A house? What is it?

“This is the shack I sheltered in from the rain. So, that dorm-looking place is definitely it.”

The guy stood with the dark, vague shape behind him. He called it a shack, so it must be a shack. It was too dark to tell for sure. But the light in the windows of the building beyond—that’s the dorm. I could see the sign over the entrance.

“Now that you’re this close, you should be fine.”

“Right.”

If I hurry, I might still make it in time for dinner. That’s good.

“Thank you very much,” I said, thanking the very kind guy.

“No problem. It was kind of interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“You have an… unusual vibe.”

Unusual, huh. Not sure if that’s good or bad, but oh well.

“Is that so?”

Crunch, crunch—the sound of his shoes. His toes moved like windshield wipers.

“What kind of work do you do, sir?”

“I’m a construction laborer.”

“Like, building houses and stuff?”

“Sometimes I build houses, but I also tear down walls and gather debris.”

“Do you enjoy that kind of work?”

Is work enjoyable? Is it? It’s exhausting, but I work because I need to make money. Without money, I can’t eat or sleep in a place with a bed. I can’t watch TV.

“Oh, um… I didn’t mean it as some deep question or anything.”

The guy asks questions I don’t understand. There are people who ask things I don’t understand. That’s just how it is. I’m not from Earth. I always felt I might be different from everyone because I’m an alien. Someday, someone will come from space to take me home. I’ll go home.

So it’s fine if I don’t understand. When I get back to my star, I’ll probably understand. Ah, it’s fine if I don’t get it—after all, I don’t belong on Earth.

Can I go home now? I looked at the guy and waved, “Well then, goodbye.” A farewell wave. A goodbye signal. I heard a “Goodbye” from his mouth. Ah, I can go home.

“If you’re ever bored, come visit that place again.”

“I won’t.”

I don’t know how I even ended up there, so I can’t go back. If I get lost and miss dinner or end up sleeping outside, that’d be a problem.

“…You’re pretty blunt.”

I walked toward the light. After a bit, I turned around. He was still there. Not leaving, I guess? Even when I looked back again, he was still there.

As I walked, that picture came to mind. Stars, space… Ah, that picture was nice. Real nice.Top of FormBottom of Form

◇:-:◆:-:◇

“Mura-san”

I heard my name just as I was about to enter the dining hall. Someone calling me? I looked in the direction of the voice, and there he was by the entrance—the droopy-eyed guy.

“Could you come over here for a sec?”

I smelled something nice nearby. Must be fried chicken. My stomach was empty, and I really wanted to eat soon, but since the droopy-eyed guy called me, I followed him. It was getting dark, and the light above the entrance cast half his face in shadow.

“Mura-san, you’ve worked at Yano Construction for a long time, right?”

“Yes.”

The droopy-eyed guy sighed a sleepy-sounding “haaaa,” then looked at me.

“Well, my mom… they said if she doesn’t have surgery, she’ll die.”

The word “death” sent a chill through my chest. I don’t like death. It seems painful and sad. If your mom died, that’d be awful. Very sad. The droopy-eyed guy lowered his gaze, looking down heavily.

“But I don’t have the money. I borrowed as much as I could, but I’ve reached my limit.”

The droopy-eyed guy clasped his hands together and bowed to me like I was some kind of shrine.

“Please lend me money. I can’t let my mom die.”

Ah, how sad. So sad. I don’t want his mom to be sick either. But…

“I don’t have much money. And it’s too late to get an advance.”

“Then even just whatever you have now, please.”

I took out the thousand yen I had advanced from my pocket.

“Here.”

the droopy-eyed guy grabbed the bill as quick as a hawk finding prey and, with a “Thank you so much,” ran out of the dorm.

The next day, the droopy-eyed guy asked me again, “Could you lend me some money?” The office was open, and I found out I had 143,000 yen left. I handed it over to the droopy-eyed guy with a “I hope your mom can have her surgery.” After that, I didn’t see him again. The droopy-eyed guy, who always used cash and often came and went with me, disappeared.

Mornings started feeling chilly even though it was hot in the daytime. One day, I saw the droopy-eyed guy in the company van for the first time in a while, but we weren’t assigned to the same site. On my way back from work, just as I was heading to the office, the droopy-eyed guy called me over. I thought he was there to repay me, but instead he apologized.

“I’m sorry… I’m short again. I swear I’ll pay you back, so please lend me more. I’m begging you.”

Tears were streaming down his face. Feeling sorry for him, I gave him all I had.

Days became cooler, and nights turned cold; even with a long-sleeve shirt, I could feel a chill down my back. It’s been raining every day recently. They said Typhoon No. 8 on the news, and right after that, Typhoon No. 9, so construction has been on hold, and I have no work. Since I lent money to the droopy-eyed guy, I have no money left myself, and now I owe the dorm fees for the days I couldn’t work. It’s just how it is. But I feel sorry for the company.

Outside the window, the wind was howling, bending the branches heavily, like a test of endurance against the storm. The TV suddenly shut off. I pressed the remote several times, but it wouldn’t come back on. If it’s broken, I’ll have to report it to the office, or they’ll make me pay for it. The hallway was darker than usual. Maybe it’s because of the bad weather.

When I reached the hallway on the first floor, the sliding door by the entrance rattled open. The wind blew in, making my bangs sway.

“Damn it, damn it!”

Crewcut, gray-haired came in, cursing under his breath. Finally remembered his name—Hirakawa-san. He shook his umbrella up and down, flinging water everywhere, even hitting my face. Cold.

“Damn it. If I hadn’t run out of smokes, I’d never go outside in this crap. Damn it.”

Muttering in his gruff voice, Hirakawa-san looked at me.

“You’re going out? Don’t. It’s pouring out there.”

“The TV won’t turn on, so I need to report it to someone from the office.”

Hirakawa-san said, “Ah,” and shook himself like a dog, splashing me again.

“Could be a power outage. The nearby traffic lights were out.”

Power outage? Come to think of it, there was thunder earlier. Maybe lightning struck something. If it’s because of a power outage, no point in going to the office.

“By the way, did you hear? That Todoroki guy, he got arrested.”

I’ve heard the name Todoroki, but I don’t know his face. Since Hirakawa-san mentioned it, he must be someone I know.

"Is that so..."

Even though I don’t really remember Todoroki, I can still respond.

"Didn’t you lend him money?”

Lend him money? Money... The only person I lent money to was the droopy-eyed guy. Could his name have been Todoroki? Maybe they did call him that. I tend to forget people’s faces if I don’t see them regularly.

“Yes.”

"He was on probation, so now he’s got real prison time.”

It’s not uncommon for someone who worked with us to get arrested. A prison sentence means he’s going to jail.

"Did he do something bad?”

"Drugs. His eyes were all intense even at work, so I figured he might be using.”

The droopy-eyed guy said he needed money for his mom’s surgery. But if he didn’t have any money, how did he manage to buy drugs?

"The money you lent him probably isn’t coming back."

“The money will come back.”

Hirakawa-san came closer, saying, "Stop being so naive.”

"They say back when you were with Yano, you were always lending money to people.”

I don’t remember it too well, but there were people who asked to borrow money.

“They’d mention a sick family member, and you’d hand over money just like that. Never complained when they didn’t pay you back. I heard they called you ‘Mura the Sucker.’ If you don’t want to be taken advantage of, wise up.”

Hirakawa-san shouted at me in his rough voice before leaving. A gloomy feeling spread around me like a damp fog. I’d stayed with Yano Construction until it went under. Fewer and fewer people stayed at the dorm, and eventually, they were all gone—the president, too. Only me and Ueno, the old guy, were left.

The debt I owed Yano disappeared when the company folded. That was a relief since I was drowning in debt. I remember lending people money, though I don’t remember to whom or how much. I don’t like when the money doesn’t come back, but everyone was struggling. My dad used to say that when you’re in trouble, you help each other out. So maybe it’s okay.

Back in my room, it’s dark, and the TV still won’t turn on. There’s nothing to do. Outside the window, the wind howls like a deep rumble, and the rain is pounding loudly. I lie back on the futon, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I can fall asleep.

I close my eyes. That image pops into my head. Black and white. Tiny dots and circles. Space and stars at the center of the image. When I open my eyes, the picture fades. But if I close them, it somehow comes back.

Ah, that picture. I’d like to see it again.

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