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This is a rural town where rice fields remain. A short distance from the traditional shopping district, on a hill, lies an oppressive residential area.
In each section separated by a grid-like pattern of roads, two or three houses are crammed shoulder to shoulder. This is the result of cheap, prefabricated homes being crammed into mountains that had been cut down for urban development. Even a go stone is given its own space, but humans are tricky creatures. Furthermore, a side effect of mass production is that houses look similar as far as the eye can see. However, as the saying goes, "To every bird, his own nest is beautiful." No matter how many similar houses there are, in the end, our own home is the best, so it seems there are hardly any problems living here.
If there's one inconvenience, it's as a visitor to the residential area. If you're told there's a black house five doors down, and you follow it, you'll find that there are countless black houses like it everywhere. If you turn back, thinking you've taken a wrong turn, you'll lose track of where you came from, and it's even developed into a labyrinth-like attraction where you can wander through the residential area for 30 minutes. As he went around checking the nameplates of each house, a suspicious presence was reported to the police. Elementary school students have apparently been forced to walk to and from school in groups. Anyone visiting this area needs a smartphone with GPS functionality.
In a corner of this quirky residential area, among a row of nondescript houses, one house stood out in particular. With its pure white walls adorned with seasonal flowers and its trademark red roof, this small house seemed like a real-world embodiment of the adorable dollhouses we played with until they fell apart as children. Its fairy-tale-like appearance, as if inhabited by fairies, has many visitors stopping to gaze up. If a lost person were to stumble upon this house, they would surely believe they had wandered into Wonderland.
From behind the charming wooden door, the voices of fairies joyfully chattering can be heard. The sunlight filtering through the trees sparkles, making it seem as if angel wings might even float down, like a page from a picture book. Furthermore, a mysterious legend passed down in this town holds the key to transporting the house to a world of enchantment.
"A wizard lives in this town."
So, this is the entrance to a magical realm. Just when I was starting to think that this movie-like world really does exist...
A fierce voice shattered the atmosphere, emanating from within the house.
"I'm off!"
With footsteps that sounded like leveling the ground, it was not a fairy or an angel who burst out of the wooden door, but a high school girl dressed in a sailor uniform. Shutting the door behind her, she was already running out into the garden.
A well-worn sports bag sparkled in the dazzling sunlight. Squinting at the dazzling light that seemed to emit its own light, she finally slung the long strap dangling from the bag over her shoulder.
In front of her, a well-worn bicycle waited impatiently for its owner to ride. The rusted metal fittings supporting the wheels and the dented front basket spoke of its history. Banging her bag against the body, where cherry blossom paint had been applied over it, the girl finally sat down on the saddle.
It was a matter of whether to straddle the bike or push off the ground first. She put all her weight on it and pushed down with all her might with her right foot. The rusted bike slammed into motion, creaking and screaming, and a cicada chirping in the shade of the trees took off.
Just as she passed through the gate of the house, a woman jumped out from the wooden door. She was wearing a canary-yellow apron and was kicking her feet on the boiling concrete.
And that's no surprise. She had neither sandals nor socks on her feet. It would not be strange if a student passing by mistook her for a fairy as she hopped around on the ground on her slender, beautiful bare feet.
Or perhaps she was the legendary wizard. Not only was her appearance mysterious, but she was also holding in both arms a package wrapped in grass blades of an unprecedented size. Was the contents of the strange, light green box a gift from a magical world unknown to humans? If not, perhaps she was in the midst of transporting a magical potion somewhere.
Looking more closely, the package that seemed like a blade of grass was decorated with a familiar arabesque pattern. I had never seen anyone carrying such a furoshiki before, except for the bearded, old thief who appears in a Showa-era manga. He was not a thief, nor a fairy, nor a wizard. He was just a mother living in a custom-built home with meticulous attention to detail.
She was letting out what could be interpreted as a shriek as she addressed her child, who was drifting away into the distance.
"Nao! You forgot something!"
The high-pitched voice bounced off the concrete jungle countless times, easily reaching Nao, who was only a few meters away. The girl, cutting through the wind and descending the hill, gripped the brakes with all her might. The sound of brakes running low on oil echoed in response, and just like before, she bounced through the alley.
"I forgot!"
Nao hastily jumped off her bike and quickly retraced her steps. Even in this temperature that made just standing sweat, she raced up the hill with her beloved bike beside her. Large drops of water glistened on the girl's forehead, where she had been feeling the breeze moments earlier, and by the time she reached her mother, they had trickled down her cheeks.
Nao took the furoshiki from her mother and finally shoved it into the bottom of her well-worn sports bag. Finding its home, the furoshiki tucked into its proper place, seemingly reassuring her.
In contrast, her mother was still moving about restlessly. She was constantly whispering "it's hot, it's hot," and lifting both legs, one to the other. Nao, checking her mother's feet as she writhed in agony on the sun-baked tiles, naturally frowned.
"Why are you barefoot?"
Before she could answer that question, mother began waving her hands back and forth, doing leg raises like a marathon runner. Although her body temperature was skyrocketing, her mother didn't seem to mind.
"I was in a hurry. And more importantly, don't tilt your bag, okay? It'll spill!"
Her mother was more concerned about the contents of the bag than her own feet.
"Yes, yes."
Nao repeated herself nonchalantly and tried to zip up her sports bag. However, it stopped before it even reached halfway. It was the giant furoshiki (cloth wrapping cloth) sitting at the bottom of the bag.
"Whoa, what's this! My bag won't close!"
Nao tried again, but stopped midway. Perhaps expecting this, her mother seemed unsurprised, watching her child's behavior and calmly replying.
"If it won't close, then you don't have to. No one's going to peek inside."
"But..."
Nao, still mindful of her ungainly bag, reluctantly sat back down on her bike. Seeing this, her mother's expression became strangely proud for some reason.
"I went to the trouble of ordering a gigantic container online so that everyone could have one. You should be grateful."
Nao sighed and told the truth, feeling pressured into this small intrusion.
"It was just on sale, right?"
"Haha, you see."
Her mother continued to move restlessly, but let out a lighthearted laugh.
"But thanks to the sale, we were able to take it! You should be grateful."
"You're right. I'm always grateful, Mom!"
Then, she slowly let go of the bicycle brakes she had been holding for a while. Gradually, the wheels began to turn and the bike began to roll down the hill again. Her mother waved enthusiastically to her daughter as she walked away.
"Be careful!"
"Mom, you should wash your feet properly!"
The echoes of her voice were so loud that it made a stray cat taking a nap five houses down jump.
The girl became the wind once again.
