Adachi to Shimamura - Volume SS1 - Chapter 23

And Shimamura

THOSE TWO WORDS were emblazoned on a sign standing to one side.

“What the heck?” I muttered unconsciously to myself, looking the sign up and down. At a glance, that almost sounded like a city name, but it seemed…incomplete. Did it have anything to do with my Shimamura?

Well, if I’m here looking at it, there’s no way it doesn’t, I thought. 

Recovering from the embarrassment of my own cheesiness, I craned my neck and peered upward, contemplating how I might’ve gotten here. Unfortunately, it was as though my memories had been surgically removed. I was in the middle of town, wearing my uniform, but I couldn’t recall where I was headed. School? Home? Work? I couldn’t even remember the day of the week. 

Since there was no point standing around, I decided to see what was up ahead—but the moment I stepped forward, the text on the sign suddenly changed to ADACHI AND SHIMAMURA, freezing me in my tracks. My eyes glued to the sign, I stepped backward, and…

“Oh. It changed back.” 

Sure enough, it had reverted to AND SHIMAMURA. When I took another step forward, though, ADACHI swiftly returned. Interesting. 

I turned my gaze to the road ahead, but couldn’t see anything resembling the dull, unchanging scenery I’d grown accustomed to. 

On one side, I saw a small, cramped train-station platform with small, cramped turnstiles. With handrails on either side, the sloped entry barely had room for both inbound and outbound commuters. I could only imagine the sheer hell of rush hour in a place like this. A small sign dangled from the roof, and to one side stood an old-fashioned telephone booth—the kind you rarely saw anymore.

If nothing else, I was certain I’d never been here before. 

In the distance, I saw shadowy kiosks and swarms of people steadily moving away. Peering down the narrow path in front of me, however, I sensed a strange stillness. After a beat, I realized something was off—and no amount of rubbing my eyes seemed to improve it.

Inexplicably, the scenery was painted in monochrome. 

The entire world appeared black and white.

Am I dreaming?

As I continued to explore, I had an even greater shock: There were Shimamuras everywhere.

Shimamuras across the street. Shimamuras riding bikes. Shimamuras at the vending machine, Shimamuras peering out the building windows. Every single person in this town was shaped like Shimamura. When a train pulled into the station, Shimamuras rushed out. In turn, I found myself hurrying backward in alarm.

What the hell is going on? Perplexed, I looked around. Though the Shimamuras were all in different outfits, they too were monochrome. An entire town of nothing but Shimamura? Awesome. No, wait, that’s weird. 

Dozens of Shimamuras passed me, each with a placid expression. As I observed them, it finally sank in that I seemed to be dreaming, but I couldn’t remember when or where I’d fallen asleep. 

This surely wasn’t the afterlife, was it? I couldn’t recall having lived long enough to get there, and there was simply no way I’d forget an entire life spent with Shimamura by my side. The waking world was bound to be on the other side of the sky above—I just needed to figure out how to get there. 

Lifting one foot, I pressed it down onto the other, gradually increasing the pressure as I waited for it to hurt…but there was no sensation. Well, more accurately, the pain I felt was dulled to a haze. I gathered that I couldn’t wake myself by force, no matter what I tried.

I started walking aimlessly through the town of Shimamuras. Now that I thought about it, I already had tunnel vision for her in the waking world, so maybe this was in fact an accurate reflection of how I saw things. It didn’t really make sense in my head, but my heart felt otherwise.

Shimamuras on the left, Shimamuras on the right, Shimamuras right in front of me—whoa!

Another Shimamura stood before me. Like the others, she was colorless—but this one was looking straight into my eyes.

“Shimamura,” I said. 

In response, her lips moved, but produced no sound. 

“I can’t hear you,” I told her.

She scratched her head for a moment, frowning, then reached into her bookbag and pulled out a notebook and pen. Flipping to a blank page, she scrawled something, then held it up for me to see: How’s this?

“Th…that works.” 

Evidently she heard me just fine, since she laughed and started walking away from the station. Like a baby duck, I instinctively followed her. Oddly enough, as I trained my eyes on her back, the surrounding scenery seemed to melt away.

“Is this a dream?” I asked.

She wrote me another response: Sure, if that’s the word you use to describe a glimpse inside your heart.

“This is my heart?” My second question was drowned out by a passing train departing from the empty station. 

I like it when you come here, Adachi. It brings everyone to life.

I frowned, confused. Just then, we came upon the sign I’d spotted when I first arrived: ADACHI AND SHIMAMURA. Now it made sense. Without me, it wasn’t complete; it couldn’t function as just AND SHIMAMURA. What would “and Shimamura” even mean, anyway?

Your heart’s something else, huh? There’s no one but me here!

“Yeah, I noticed,” I muttered under my breath. I was grateful that this was just a lucid dream. If the real Shimamura said that to me, I’d probably have died. “Why is my heart black and white inside, though?”

Because it’s incomplete.

“What do you mean?” 

Think of this as a tomb you’ve built for yourself. 

At the word “tomb,” I furrowed my brow in concern.

Your physical body will only last so long, after all. This is your idea of the perfect afterlife.

Even without a clear explanation, my heart’s teachings seeped through every inch of my body, all the way to my fingertips. She’s right, I realized. More than some generic heaven, my soul yearned for a world with just Shimamura…and me. 

You can see the ocean over there, by the way. 

I turned to look in the direction she pointed, but all I saw was a monochrome sky and, on the horizon, the faintest trace of the sea.

We can’t go farther than the beach right now, though.

“How come?”

Because you haven’t gone any farther yet.

That made sense. I’d just have to cross the sea with her someday.

Gazing out at the sea of identical faces, Shimamura smiled wryly. The residents here are all kind of interchangeable, since you’ve only seen me as a teenager. 

Indeed, I’d only known her a year now, and she hadn’t changed that noticeably. Now I understood why all the Shimamuras looked the same—I’d need to flesh out my collection with a wider range of them. First high-school graduate Shimamura, then adult Shimamura… She would slowly age, as I would alongside her, until at last this place would be complete—a perfect world for me and Shimamura. Honestly, it was just like me to set my sights on something and spring to action.

Of course, I knew this Shimamura wasn’t the real Shimamura. But when I spoke to her, thought of her, and touched her—she still felt like my Shimamura.

Shimamura had given me so much, and I wanted ­nothing more than to hoard it all right here in my heart. My desire to be with her was evidently gargantuan enough to surpass even the limits of my mortal lifespan. Perhaps it was, in a way, my entire reason for being. 

Yes, this made sense as my afterlife—it would be a reward at the very end. And, even if I forgot all about this upon waking, the answer would be right there in each day I spent with her. That was how my heart was constructed, so I had nothing to fear.

One day in the far future, when I left the mortal world, I hoped to come back here—and I couldn’t wait to see what it looked like when I returned. 

Once we finished making our rounds through the town, Shimamura turned back to look at me silently. I promised I’d see her again, and moments later, I felt my consciousness rise into the light.

***

“It’s not like you to nod off.” A voice gently brushed my earlobe. 

Peeling away the darkness, I raised my head.

“Good morning,” the soft, smiling voice said.

And so the light lifted its veil, the world ripened with color, and I was greeted by the very voice I’d yearned to hear more than any other.