Our houses were near the top of a hill, a good distance away from where the rest of our classmates lived. That was convenient for us; we could use the distance as an excuse not to hang out at their houses, and we rationalized staying at home instead. If we really got that bored, we could visit each other and play while we pretended we were there under duress. On summer festival days and Christmas, we would go out and kill time on our own so as not to trouble our parents needlessly, and on family recreation days and open house days at school when our parents could come and watch the class, we pretended to be good friends. It was as if we ™‡”‡•ƒ›‹‰ǡDz–ǯ•‡ƒ•‹‡•–ˆ‘”—•–‘„‡–‘‰‡–Š‡”ǡ•‘™‡…Š‘‘•‡–‘„‡Ž‹‡–Š‹•Ǥdz Rather than beg our inferior classmates to let us join their groups, we much preferred the company of our frenemy. Elementary school was a depressing place for us. The other kids would keep pranking and harassing Himeno and me, which prompted class assemblies. The teacher in charge of our class from fourth through sixth grade understood how this sort of thing went, and unless it was really bad, she was considerate enough not to inform our parents. After all, if they knew we were bullied, that would only make it worse. The teacher knew we needed to have at least one place where we could rest easy and not be reminded of the fact that we were victims. But in any case, Himeno and I were sick of itȄsick of the people around us, and even a little sick of ourselves for being unable to have any other relationships with the rest of the class. Š‡„‹‰‰‡•–’”‘„Ž‡ˆ‘”—•™ƒ•–Šƒ–™‡…‘—Ž†ǯ–”‡ƒŽŽ›Žƒ—‰ŠǤ‡‡˜‡” figured out how to react at the same time as the rest of the kids. If I tried to force my facial muscles into that expression, I could almost hear something at the core of myself scraping and grinding down. Himeno probably felt something similar. Even when someone was directly looking for a response ˆ”‘—•ǡ™‡™‘—Ž†ǯ–”ƒ‹•‡ƒ‡›‡„”‘™Ǥ‡…‘—Ž†ǯ–ǡ‹ˆƒ…–Ǥ The rest of the class thought we were stuck-up and pretentious. We ’”‘„ƒ„Ž› ™‡”‡Ǥ —– –Šƒ– ™ƒ•ǯ– –Š‡ ‘Ž› ”‡ƒ•‘ ™‡ …‘—Ž†ǯ– Œ‘‹ ‹ ™‹–Š them when they laughed. It was something more fundamental. Himeno and I were helplessly out of sync, like flowers blooming in the wrong season. It was the summer when I was ten. Himeno pulled her schoolbag out of the trash can for at least the thirtieth time, and I put on the shoes the›ǯ†…—– open with scissors, and we went to sit on the stone steps of the shrine, lit by the setting sun and waiting for something.