Run with the Wind: Chapter 1: The Residents of Chikusei-sou
He had never expected running to come in handy like this.
Kakeru Kurahara laughed quietly to himself as he savored the feeling of rubber soles bouncing against hard asphalt.
Every muscle in his body fluidly absorbed the impact from his feet. Wind whistled in his ears. Heat burned just below his skin. He didn’t have to think about it―his heart pumped blood, and his lungs calmly took in oxygen. His body became lighter and lighter. He could run anywhere.
But where? And for what?
Kakeru finally remembered why he was running, and slowed his pace slightly. He listened carefully for anyone behind him, but there was no more shouting or footsteps to be heard. In his right hand rustled a bag of bread. As if to destroy the evidence, Kakeru opened the bag and began to hungrily devour the bread as he ran. After pondering for some time what to do with the empty bag, he stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie.
Even though keeping the empty bag with him would be the most damning evidence that he had stolen it, he just couldn’t bring himself to litter. Funny how that works, Kakeru thought to himself.
All these years, even without being told, Kakeru diligently trained every day. It was a habit he had drilled into his body. In the same way, he had been told since childhood that he mustn’t litter, and so found himself simply unable to.
Once convinced of something, he would follow what he had been taught to the letter. Once decided on something, he would keep to it more strictly than anyone.
Thanks to the extra blood sugar from eating the bread, Kakeru’s legs returned to hitting the ground at their regular pace. He focused on his breathing, feeling his heartbeat. With his eyelids half-closed, he could only see right ahead of his feet―just the toes of his shoes kicking out, and the white line drawn on the black asphalt.
Following that thin line, Kakeru ran.
Even though he couldn’t bear to litter, he felt no guilt over stealing bread. He only felt the satisfaction of finally soothing his hungry, aching stomach.
How like an animal, Kakeru thought. Training every day, drilling a precise and strong form into his body in order to run faster and longer. Stealing a loaf of bread from a convenience store out of hunger. He was no different from a beast, patrolling his territory and pouncing on prey out of need.
Kakeru’s world was a simple and fragile one. Running, and taking in the energy needed to run. That was basically all there was to it; the rest just drifted in a shapeless and wordless haze. But every once in a while, he could hear someone shouting something through the haze.
As he ran along the night road, Kakeru stared at the images that had haunted his mind for the past year. A fury so intense that he saw red. A fist thrown, and not stopped.
Maybe this is what regret is, he thought. The cry I can hear coming from inside me is the sound of me chastising myself.
He let his gaze wander to distract himself from the memories threatening to overwhelm him. The trees covered the road, their thin branches reaching up towards the sky. It was almost time for them to bloom, but there was still none of that soft green to be seen. A twinkling star caught on the tip of a branch. The empty pastry bag in his pocket crinkled like a dead leaf.
Kakeru finally noticed someone else’s presence nearby and tensed up.
Someone was following him. The rusty creak of metal closed in behind him. Even if he were to cover his ears, he knew he’d be able to sense it through his skin. He’d felt it during countless tournaments: the rhythm of another being against the ground. The sound of their breath. The moment the scent of the wind changed.
An elation that he had not felt for a long time shuddered through him.
But this was not the oval track of the stadium. Kakeru abruptly turned the corner of the elementary school and sped up, making for a shortcut. As if I’d let you catch me.
The roads in this area were so narrow it was hard to tell which were private property and which were public roads, with dead-end alleyways branching off at every turn. Kakeru chose his path carefully, so as not to get caught up. He ran past the elementary school windows, painted in darkness, and cast a sidelong glance at the university campus he’d be attending in the spring.
Eventually, he came upon a slightly larger street. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should turn right towards the city, but decided to continue straight ahead through the residential area.
The light was green as he crossed the street. The sound of his footsteps echoed among the quiet houses. Yet it seemed his pursuer was no stranger to the area, and Kakeru could feel his presence growing closer.
Kakeru was again taken by the awareness that he was not just running, but running away. A sense of frustration rose in his throat. I’m always running away. The realization pushed him forward even more. It felt as if he stopped here, he would be admitting to that fact.
A faint white light illuminated his feet. It was right behind him now, bouncing from side to side.
A bicycle? Kakeru was surprised at himself for taking so long to realize. He had heard the squeak of metal, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that his pursuer might be riding a bicycle, even though he knew from experience that there weren’t many who could keep up with him over this distance on their own two feet.
At some point, he had become taken by the feeling that he was being chased by something vague and terrifying inside him. So he ran.
Suddenly feeling foolish, he glanced back.
A young man was pedaling a shoddy bicycle with a basket. It was too dark to see his expression, but he didn’t seem to be the cashier from the convenience store. Not only was he not wearing an apron, but he was wearing what looked to be a padded kimono, with massage sandals on his pedaling feet.
What in the world was going on?
Kakeru slowed down to get a better look. The bicycle casually pulled up beside him, making a sound like an old waterwheel.
Kakeru stole a sideways glance at the man beside him. He had a fresh face and wet hair, as if he had just taken a hot bath. For some reason, there were two wash basins in the basket of his bicycle. He kept looking over at Kakeru, and Kakeru wondered uncomfortably if he was some kind of pervert.
The man pulled away slightly and continued riding beside Kakeru, who kept running at a steady pace, watching the man carefully. Did the cashier ask someone else to give chase? Or was he just a random passerby? Just as Kakeru’s anxiety, tension, and frustration were about to reach their peak, a calm voice rang in his ears like a distant ocean wave.
“Do you like running?”
Kakeru stopped in surprise. The road in front of him vanished suddenly, leaving him like a dazed man standing on the edge of a cliff.
He stood still in the middle of the nighttime street. His heart pounded in his ears. The bicycle beside him screeched to a halt, and Kakeru turned towards it slowly. The young man on the bicycle stared back at him. Kakeru finally processed that it had been he who had just asked him that question.
“Don’t stop so suddenly. Let’s jog it out a bit.”
With that, the man slowly started pedaling again. Why should I go with a random stranger? Kakeru thought, but his legs followed unbidden, as if something else was controlling him.
Staring at the man’s back, Kakeru felt something in between indignation and disgust well up inside him. It had been a long time since anyone had asked about his feelings towards running.
What if he said he liked it, as if being served his favorite food at dinner? Or what if he said he hated it, as casually as one might throw garbage into the trash? Kakeru couldn’t bring himself to do either. There’s no way I could ever answer that, he thought. How could he, when he ran day in and day out, though he had no destination? How could someone like him say with certainty whether he liked or disliked running?
The last time running had ever brought him such simple joy was as a child, running around the grassy hills and fields. After that, he had been trapped in endless ellipse, struggling desperately against the flow of time, until the day his impulses exploded and shattered everything he had built up.
The man on the bicycle gradually slowed, eventually coming to a halt in front of a small, shuttered store. Kakeru stopped too, and out of habit, began stretching to loosen up his muscles. The man bought some cold tea from a flatly-lit vending machine and tossed a can to Kakeru. The two of them crouched on the ground in front of the store. Kakeru felt the coolness of the can in his hand absorbing the heat from his body.
“You run well.”
After a moment silence, the man spoke. “Excuse me.”
The man suddenly reached out to touch Kakeru’s calves through his jeans. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore if he’s some kind of weird pervert. Feeling a bit reckless, Kakeru let the man touch his leg. He was terribly thirsty, and quickly downed the tea the man had bought him in one gulp.
The man checked the muscles on Kakeru’s legs methodically, as if he were a doctor checking for a tumor. He then raised his head and looked Kakeru squarely in the eyes.
“Why did you shoplift?”
“… Who are you?”
Kakeru shot back bluntly, throwing the empty can into the nearby bin.
“I’m Haiji Kiyose. I’m a senior at Kansei University.”
That was the university Kakeru would be going to. Almost unconsciously, Kakeru replied.
“I’m… Kakeru Kurahara,” he answered honestly. He’d grown up in the military-like hierarchy of school sports ever since middle school, and found himself unconsciously deferring to his seniors.
“Kakeru… A good name.”
The man who had introduced himself as Haiji Kiyose spoke to Kakeru casually. “Do you live around here?”
“I’ll be attending Kansei University in April.”
“Ooh!”
Kiyose’s eyes lit up with a strange spark, and Kakeru couldn’t help but shrink back. A man who had chased after a stranger on his bicycle then suddenly felt up his leg couldn’t possibly be sane after all.
“Well, I’ll be going now. Thank you for the tea.”
Kakeru hurriedly tried to get up, but Kiyose wouldn’t let him. He grabbed the hem of Kakeru’s shirt and pulled him back down next to him.
“What department?”
“… Sociology.”
“Why did you shoplift?”
The conversation circled back to the beginning as Kakeru staggered back into a crouch, like an astronaut unable to escape the Earth’s gravity.
“Seriously, who are you? Are you trying to threaten me?”
“No, not at all. If there’s anything bothering you, I figured I might be able to help.”
Kakeru grew even more suspicious. Kiyose definitely had an ulternior motive. There was no way he’d say that just out of friendliness.
“Now that I know you’re my junior, I can’t just leave you be. Money troubles?”
“Uh, I guess.”
Kakeru hoped that maybe Kiyose would lend him some money, but all Kiyose seemed to have with him were two wash basins and some change in his pocket. Kiyose continued questioning him with no sign of offering money.
“What about money from your parents?”
“They gave me money to sign my lease, but I spent it all on mahjong, so until I get my allowance for next month, I guess I’ll just have to camp out at school.”
“Outside?”
Kiyose leaned forward, staring at Kakeru’s legs, and began to think about something. Kakeru wiggled his toes inside his sneakers uncomfortably.
“That sounds rough,” Kiyose said in a sincere voice. “If you want, I can show you the apartment where I live. It just so happens there’s an open room right now. The place is called Chikusei-sou; it’s right around here. It’s a five-minute walk to school, and the rent is 30,000 yen.”
“30,000 yen!?”
Kakeru couldn’t help but shout. What kind of secrets were hidden behind such an amazing rent? He shuddered, imagining closets soaked with blood, or white shadows roaming the dark corners of the apartment every night.
Kakeru had always lived in a world where speed could be measured in numbers, finding joy in meticulously cultivating a body for running, but he had never been good with things like ghosts or the occult, which eluded understanding.
Kiyose, however, seemed to take Kakeru’s horrified cry as the wail of a man left penniless by mahjong.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure if you ask the landlord, he’ll let you pay when you can. There’s no security deposit or anything.”
Kiyose threw out his empty can, apparently taking Kakeru’s agreement for granted, and was already standing up and kicking up his bike’s kickstand. Kakeru was growing increasingly suspicious of this “Chikusei-sou” where this mysterious man lived.
“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Kiyose urged. “We should grab your stuff first. Where on campus have you been you staying?”
By the gymnasium. He had been hiding in the shadow of a concrete staircase, sheltering from the wind and rain. All the belongings he had brought with him from home could fit in a single duffel bag. He figured if there was anything else he needed, he could have it sent from home later. And so he had left his home and come to Tokyo without securing a place to stay, only to lose all of his money at a mahjong parlor the night he arrived.
Even so, he did not feel anxious or afraid. He had no trouble being alone in a place where he didn’t know anyone. In fact, he found it freeing. But it was true that he wanted to find a place to live before the entrance ceremony, and he was fed up with shoplifting at convenience stores while out jogging.
Kakeru stood up quietly, and Kiyose nodded in satisfaction. Instead of getting on his bike, he pulled it along by the handlebars, the chain rattling in the air. The street lights shone brightly on his frayed jacket.
Strangely enough, despite all his attention to Kakeru’s running, he had never once asked him if he had any track experience. Nor had he told him not to shoplift anymore. Kakeru mustered up his courage and called out to Kiyose, who was walking ahead of him.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Kiyose turned around and smiled quietly, as if he had spotted a green weed sprouting through a gap in the asphalt.
“You can call me Haiji.”
Kakeru gave up on asking and stepped in line with Kiyose and his bike. No matter how cheap the apartment or how eccentric its residents, it was probably better than sleeping outside.