The Korean word for “memory” consists of two characters: chuiteu (追) meaning “to follow” and eok (憶) meaning “to think.”
If translated directly, it simply means “to recall thoughts,” but generally in Korea, the word refers to memories in the truest sense.
Sudden recollections of past joys. Even amidst hardships, these memories can make you smile for no particular reason.
These are memories that, much like intensely painful ones, are embedded too deeply to be easily erased.
Just as the word “memory” inherently relates to “remembering,” foreign words carry similar connotations.
In Japanese, it’s called omoide (思い出).
In Japan, this term signifies more than just memories, overlapping with the concept of “remembrance,” akin to the English word “memory.” Yet, it doesn’t strictly imply just “remembering,” and is often used broadly as memories, making the usage not vastly different.
Memories… aren’t something you can just conjure at will.
Each person’s feelings are unique, leading to differing recollections. Even if you experience the same event together, individuals can remember different aspects.
A simple walk with a loved one, though seemingly trivial, can leave a profound impression, while memories of a festival can be so faint they’re hard to recall.
Sometimes, you can completely forget until a random memory pops up, causing one to squint and smile while thinking, “Those were good times,” eventually getting lost in the reverie.
That said, it’s not entirely impossible.
As with all things in life, if you repeat activities, memories tend to accumulate. If you want to create lasting memories with someone, just stick around, do plenty of things together, and have a blast.
Um!
In the literature club room, just before the school bell rings.
Outside, the sun was barely dipping below the horizon, the once bright sunset slowly swallowed by darkness.
Typically, we would have already been home by now.
“With this much, it’s great!”
“It was a close call…”
While Kaoru nodded with satisfaction, Izumi sighed heavily.
Indeed.
We barely managed to submit the literary magazine just in time on the 26th last week.
It was a rather thin publication. We hastily skimmed through books, scribbling some impressions and a recommended reading list, and added images from the basic graphics options of a word processor to bulk up the volume.
For reference, Kaoru’s recommended list consisted entirely of books on spirits and the occult, while Izumi leaned towards detective stories. The remaining three of us were a mixed bag, having hastily written our entries after just skimming the table of contents and endings of the books available in the club room.
Thanks to Koko recommending some used fairy tale books from home, we at least had a semblance of completeness.
…Though I couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked that I read less than Izumi, even if I was a tad slow. Even in comparison to Kaoru, who devours occult magazines daily, or Koko, with her love for fairy tales, I seemed to lag behind. Sure, when there’s a smartphone in this world, I’d confidently read the most. I used to dive deep into online novels. Whether I could submit those reviews as impressions is another story.
Regardless, just submitting the magazine isn’t the end of it.
No matter how much our club looked abandoned on the top floor of this intimidating old building, we still needed to pull our weight during the cultural festival.
All of us—me, Koko, Yuka, Kaoru, and even the club head, Izumi—were filled with thoughts of enjoying what was set up in other clubs or classrooms, but we still had to participate to gather info for the student council reports.
We copied and pasted excerpts from famous poems and renowned quotes from famous novels by renowned Japanese authors, added some suitable photos and drawings, printed them large, and coated them. It took longer than expected to prepare and fix them, so we only managed to finalize everything the day before the festival.
For the record, since we’re a literature club, our writings were mixed in among the works of literary giants. While our writing looked embarrassingly insignificant in comparison,
“…Is this alright?”
I murmured, glancing at my haiku lined up next to the opening line of Yasunari Kawabata’s Snow Country, a Nobel Prize-winning author.
Probably wouldn’t matter, right? Few would be reading each sentence we wrote anyway.
I doubted anyone would take one of the eleven copies of our magazine. I wonder if there would be at least one person who’d take it as a souvenir?
“After all, it’s a festival. It’s unavoidable that it’ll look a bit awkward and lacking. I doubt even haunted houses are scary at all.”
“…Wouldn’t it be somewhat troubling if we were scared of that?”
Izumi glanced at the three of us while responding to Kaoru’s comment.
We didn’t answer back.
Well, having seen a woman with a torn mouth, I doubt I’d find a face smeared haphazardly with red lipstick particularly frightening.
Even now, saying “this place is weird” wouldn’t change anything since we simply didn’t have the time to fix things, so we just shrugged our shoulders at one another and left the school behind.
“I’m looking forward to it,”
Kaoru said with a smile.
“Since we’ll be in our third year next year, this will be our last chance to truly enjoy the festival.”
Izumi looked at Kaoru in shock at her comment.
“What? You’re not actually planning to study seriously, are you?”
“How rude. I study hard during exam periods! I did better than you, right?”
“That’s only for some subjects! If we consider the average, I scored higher!”
I strolled leisurely as their childish bickering continued.
Oh, right. Third year.
We went on the math trip to Hawaii last year. It speaks to how pricey this school is in many ways to head to such a famous foreign tourist destination, but I guess third years don’t go on a trip.
In other words, I suppose it could be viewed as compensation.
“We had fun this year, so can we please focus on studying next year to improve our school’s enrollment rates?”
“Next year…”
Yuka mused while gazing up at the sky.
It’s nearly the end of November.
Next month, it’ll genuinely feel like ‘year-end.’ If we can get through the final exams, we’ll all be a year older.
“There’s still two years left,”
Yuka said.
I guess she meant graduation.
Yeah, we’re finally nearing the end of first year. No, according to Japanese education, there’s still another semester left.
My eyes met Yuka’s while she was looking up at the sky.
“I hope we’re in the same class next year.”
“….”
Same class.
Right.
This is the first time Yuka is attending two terms without transferring to another school.
So, it’s not strange to have such expectations.
…What could be the reason for Yuka remaining here without transferring?
In the original work, this wasn’t clearly outlined.
There was a speculation among readers at the time that it was because of Sasaki.
It’s not merely that she has feelings for the protagonist.
It’s connected to Sasaki’s blood.
Though the demon hasn’t been taken down yet, I’m still here.
Ah, I see.
If the person she trusts most is Yuka, then it means Yuka would be near me in that moment.
“…Why? You don’t like it?”
Maybe because I took too long to respond, Yuka asked with a hint of concern.
I shook my head.
“No, it’s just…”
After a brief moment of contemplation,
“I thought it would be fun.”
With that, Yuka smiled shyly.
Yeah, it seems fun.
In front, there’s Mako, Fukuda, and Yamashita, and behind there’s Yuka.
Koko’s seated next to me.
If we can sit like this, it will indeed be fun. We can walk home together every school day and run into each other on the way to school.
Maybe I can persuade the trio of Mako to join the literature club.
….
I might quit my part-time job next year.
It’s a bit regrettable not being able to see the boss often, but I can start visiting as a customer.
“Koko, what do you think?”
“Wow?”
As I unexpectedly passed the baton, Koko’s eyes opened wide.
“If you and Yuka end up in the same class next year.”
Yuka’s eyes shifted to Koko, tinged with apprehension.
“Wuu?”
Maybe she didn’t understand?
As I pondered whether to explain the concept of swapping classes, Koko tilted her head and opened her mouth.
“Can’t we be together with Mako and friends?”
“….”
Ah.
That makes sense.
I completely failed to see that being in the same class was a natural thought for her since Mako, Fukuda, and Yamashita could be separated if classes changed.
In Japanese manga, it’s strange how classes often remain the same until the third year, but whether that’s the norm or genuinely random is uncertain. I’ve heard that teachers determine it.
In my case too, there were kids I was in class with for all three years and others who got separated when moving up a grade.
“I think it should be alright?”
I decided to think optimistically.
If it’s a light novel, there’s a high chance the classes will remain the same. That way, there’s also a likelihood that Yuka can’t come to our class.
But since we still don’t know, does it really matter what we think?
“There are cases where kids who were together are still in the same class.”
“Right, right,”
Kaoru agreed.
“We’ve been together since middle school up until now.”
That was surprising.
This time, Yuka and I turned to look at the two.
Kaoru was puffing out her chest proudly as if that was some sort of accomplishment, but Izumi rolled her eyes in disbelief.
“Thanks to that, when Kaoru wants to do something after school, I can’t run away.”
“Even if you’re in a different class, it’s the same.”
Kaoru retorted with a laugh.
That’s nice.
Though they’re not precisely best pals, having a lifetime friend is indeed a remarkable thing.
Things might change in university… well, I somehow feel that these two will likely go to the same school and department.
“…I hope so.”
“Hmm?”
“I just wish we were in the same class.”
“R-Really?”
Upon my affirmation, Yuka beamed with joy.
That smile is lovely.
At this age, everyone should live happily with smiles like that.
Whether it’s about yōkai or anything,
I imagined a world without any yōkai or weirdness, merely picturing Yuka leading a normal life.
In that imagination, Yuka was smiling.
I wasn’t alongside her.
Well, I suppose that makes sense.
If there were no such oddities, we wouldn’t have met like this.
…Our memories are like that too.
Memory is quite a whimsical thing.
*
The next day.
“…”
As I made my way to school early in the morning as usual, I suddenly halted before the school gate.
The gate presented a different sight than what I usually saw.
Well, it had been looking like that for a few days now.
In celebration of the festival, students have beautifully decorated the school gate. A luxurious stone archway was carefully covered with thick cardboard, and they created a stylish “entrance” above it.
Well, honestly, it wasn’t something incredible that looked professionally made. But it was rather the hand-cut colored paper and balloons shaped suitably that created a “festival” atmosphere.
By the way, our school’s festival is called Hako Festival (花高祭). It doesn’t have any special meaning, just an abbreviation of “Hanagawa High School Cultural Festival.”
The name Hanagawa only refers to a specific family, so there’s no need to delve too deeply into its significance. Yet, perhaps due to the “flower” characters, all the paintings displayed at the gate were cheerful flower illustrations. Regrettably, the season had nearly faded for flowers.
Additionally, about a hundred days ahead of the festival, there was a “countdown” sign made by students on top of the school building. A movable blackboard set at the gate had the number “0” drawn with chalk as fancily as possible.
“Koto Ne?”
As I stood there, not directly entering like usual, Koko asked me.
“Koko, let’s take a picture.”
As I pulled out my phone, Koko’s eyes widened in excitement, “Okay!” and nodded eagerly.
We stood as close as possible while facing the phone camera, but unfortunately, our faces filled the shot.
“Koto Ne! Koko!”
And just in time, Yuka appeared.
“Yuka, let’s take a picture.”
I abruptly said without greeting after seeing her.
Yuka also happily grinned, skipping the greeting.
As we took turns snapping photos,
“Oh my.”
By sheer luck, Suzuki-sensei passing through noticed us.
She wasn’t leaving but coming out from inside.
“Hello.”
Growing up in a Confucian country, I didn’t skip greetings even for a teacher. Upon my greeting, Koko politely bowed, and Yuka also nodded respectfully.
“Are you taking pictures? Shall I take one?”
“Thank you.”
With a smile, Suzuki-sensei offered, and it was fortunate we took a picture together, all three of us.
Currently, the small phone screen was filled with the extravagantly decorated school gate for the festival.
The three of us were striking a pose in the midst of it.
There was nothing awkward about it. Koko and Yuka were beaming joyfully.
I had a gentle smile too.
…Yeah, what’s so special about memories?
All these remnants left behind are memories.
“Well then, enjoy the festival.”
Suzuki-sensei said, handing the phone back to us.
Then she hastily made her way.
She was probably rushing out to buy some tape or something. It’s often the case that on mornings like this, preparations run short.
“Shall we go?”
Yuka asked, and I nodded.
Koko was still wearing a bright smile.
*
Hanagawa High School actively encourages club activities.
In fact, some clubs are advantageous when applying to university. The girls’ track team is already famous; although, it seems this year there were many incidents causing troubles, Kaoru, who has already withdrawn, didn’t seem to care.
Even so, while clubs are encouraged, the primary focus of school life remains the lessons attended in the classroom.
While the clubs prepare their own content for the festival, the classroom also prepares its share. So, the first morning of the festival revolves around that.
That doesn’t imply that club activities are being disregarded. The scale of classroom activities is quite large, which means prioritizing those in the morning.
Every class has its assigned club activities.
In cases where students lack enthusiasm for contributing, they might do a simple survey to guard the classroom and others might head to different classrooms for enjoyment. Conversely, even in hectic classrooms, switching around to have fun is common.
As for our class, it was a haunted house.
We had brought blackout curtains to cover the classroom windows, completely blocking out the light, and there were black plastic bags torn at the entrance, creating a rather abandoned school-like atmosphere.
The overall mood was cheerful. I wasn’t particularly close to all the students in the classroom, but having spent two semesters together, I became familiar with their faces and names.
Initially, there were assumptions about me being a delinquent due to remarkable absences, yet nowadays some kids casually talk to me. It seemed being close to Mako helped quite a bit.
“Per~fect!”
It seemed I had made quite the impact on the theme of our class being a haunted house.
After all, having two Sadako characters in the class, they needed some utilization.
Moreover, the word of my involvement in the literature club had spread through Mako’s trio, so our active participation was confirmed until lunch.
An announcement placed in front of our class read, Limited Time! Real Scary Ghost Costumes! and that was naturally protocol for our theme.
Frankly speaking, even if I wore the same costume, Fukuda doesn’t appear frightening at all.
Rather, Fukuda sitting coiled in the corner holding a baseball bat might seem more intimidating.
Though I certainly wouldn’t say that to them.
“Ready? Lights out!”
At the same time as that declaration, I turned off the lights we had been keeping on during preparations.
And.
Ooh!
A cheer erupted across the classroom.
The kids were delighted as they glanced at me and Koko.
“Wow!”
Koko too, caught up in the mood, yelled in excitement.
“Koko, no!”
Fukuda interjected. She turned on a flashlight under her chin, casting a bit of an eerie glow. It wasn’t scary per se, but it did have the suggestive edge of a thug encountered at night.
“No excited sounds when scaring!”
“Wow?”
“No ‘wow’ either.”
Fukuda feigned seriousness, but it wasn’t entirely convincing, suggesting that hearing Koko make such calls could be quite amusing.
“…My hair is all frizzy.”
“Ghosts shouldn’t complain like that.”
Mako replied with a laugh to Yamashita’s complaint.
Yamashita lifted her wig, which had drooped over her face in annoyance.
Given IA that Yamashita planned to act as a ghost in the afternoon, to be honest, she looked more like a long-haired beauty than a specter.
But, I suppose that’s the charm of a school festival without genuinely scary haunted houses.
I actually hadn’t seen one before.
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