This is a story I heard from my Master.
On a gently sloping hill, there was a spot where the thick bushes broke. The scent of undergrowth mingled with the dense night air, filling my nostrils. Amidst that scent, I could catch a faint trace of the chemical fragrance radiating from my own body. It was proof that the effect of having sprayed insect repellent all over myself, as if dousing my head in it, was still lasting. Slightly vaporized by my body heat, it must have been wrapping around me like an invisible aura, protecting me and my Master from mosquitoes and horseflies. Lying on my back with the slope behind us, the moon hung in the sky right before our eyes. And further away from its divine radiance, within the dark and cold darkness of space, stars could be seen twinkling like faint breaths.
Sasa no ha / Sarasara / Noki ni / Yureru / Ohoshisama / Kirakira / Kingin / Sunago (Bamboo leaves / rustle rustle / swaying by the eaves / little star / twinkle twinkle / gold and silver / sand)
Mixed with the sound of insects, a song could be heard. It was a very simple and gentle melody.
Goshiki no tanzaku / Watashi ga kaita / Ohoshisama / Kirakira / Sora kara / Miteru (Five-colored strips of paper / I wrote on them / Little star / twinkle twinkle / watching from the sky)
The song ended, and its lingering resonance faded deep into the bushes. I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the imagery brought by that melody for a moment.
The sound of insects grew louder. I opened one eye to peek at Master, who was lying down next to me in a similar posture. With her hands clasped together as a pillow, she had her right leg crossed over her left knee, dangling it back and forth. Then, looking up at the night sky, she started humming the song again, repeating it. When summer came, Master would catch herself humming this tune out of nowhere. Whenever she was in a good mood, or when she had nothing to do. While doing a jigsaw puzzle or feeding stray cats. However, this was the first time I had heard her actually singing the words aloud. The summer of my first year of university. My summer only happened twice. That first summer passed by day after day with dazzling wildness, and sometimes, quietly on nights like this.
"They're not coming out," Master said abruptly at a pause in her humming. "They certainly aren't." With that, the humming stopped completely. Wondering just how many different types of insects made up the sounds reaching my ears, I strained to listen, trying to count them. Imagining them hiding among the grasses. Beside me, Master let out a yawn.
We had come to a haunted spot. We had heard that in this season, at an ancient battlefield from the distant past, you could see a fantastic sight of ghost fires dancing like fireflies. However, neither ghost fires nor fireflies showed themselves at all, and we were just stubbornly sitting it out and waiting. When I slapped a mosquito that had landed on my upper arm, Master opened her mouth. "What a fine moon." Prompted by this, I looked up; perhaps it was precisely a full moon. It was a beautifully circular moon. "It certainly is a fine moon," I replied, to which Master continued, "Did you know?" "Next January, they say something called a Supermoon is going to appear." "I've never heard of it. Is it a kind of full moon? What makes it so 'super'?" "It's apparently huge." Huge... a moon is a moon, isn't it? "I don't know about this super thing, but sometimes the moon just looks unusually huge anyway, doesn't it?"
"That's when the moon is near the horizon. That's an illusion, you know." "An illusion?" "That's right. As proof, try looking at it through the hole of a 5-yen coin held at a fixed distance from your eye. It's the exact same size as usual. When it's high in the sky, it's something that blocks the stars of the night sky— in other words, the illusion is born because the moon, which is in the 'foreground,' is blocked by other things like houses, mountains, or telephone poles when it's near the horizon, making it perceived as being far in the 'background,' terribly far away." "I suppose so." I pictured in my mind the gigantic moon appearing from the horizon, which was still faintly red on the other side in the evening. "But that super one is probably just an illusion in the end, too. Since the real size is the same." "No, that's not it. It's genuinely large." "There's no way. Heavenly bodies don't just easily grow or shrink." "That's not what I mean; it's simply that the distance between the Earth and the Moon becomes shorter. At an exquisite timing that only happens once every few years, as the two of them trace their respective elliptical orbits."
Since it looks that way even though the size doesn't change, I felt that should still be called an illusion, but I didn't understand it well, so I kept quiet. "So, it actually looks big. And this time, it seems it's going to be something called an Extreme Supermoon, an even more special one among Supermoons that gets the closest distance yet." Just hearing it sounded somewhat impressive. "It's a rare one that only comes around once every twenty years or so. They say it looks about 15% bigger." I see. If such an impressive thing is coming, I should take a look. I must not forget. Thinking that, I engraved the phrase "Extreme Supermoon" into my mind for next January. Then, without even being asked, Master began spouting unprompted trivia related to the moon, and every time she did, I reacted with slightly exaggerated awe, killing time until the intended swarm of ghost fires appeared. Master's stories began to sound increasingly dubious, and just when I thought she had finished telling a story about how there used to be a sister planet to Earth between Mars and Jupiter, and the rocks formed by its destruction became the basis of the asteroid belt today, she spoke with excitement about how Earth originally had no satellites, and that the satellite of that vanished planet was blown away, caught by Earth's gravity, and began orbiting it—which is how the current Moon came to be.
I don't know where she picked that up, but I had recently seen a magazine called Gakken's *Mu* lying around Master's room, so it must have come from around there. Thinking that, the credibility of the aforementioned Extreme Supermoon also became doubtful, so I mentally applied an eraser to it for the time being. Even while we were having this exchange, the moon slightly changed its angle, and the angle of our necks accordingly turned little by little toward the west, ever westward. The night passed without incident. The sound of insects continued endlessly, and eventually, perhaps tired of talking, Master fell silent. The effectiveness of the insect repellent seemed to be wearing off gradually, and mosquitoes landing on my arms and legs increased; each time I noticed that faint sensation, I kept swatting them—smack, smack. After a silence of about ten minutes, Master suddenly spoke. "Back then, you know, I wanted to be an astronaut." Oh. That was the first time I'd heard that. "A female astronaut?" "When Armstrong and Aldrin became the first humans to land on the lunar surface on Apollo 11, I was just a kid, two or three years old around then, but I kind of remember the people around me making a huge fuss watching TV." Apollo 11. That was from a time when I wasn't even born yet. "I remember Apollo 17, the last manned lunar landing, quite clearly. The commander, Gene Cernan, was terribly handsome. Him and a scientist named Harrison Schmitt go for a drive on the lunar surface in a lunar rover... in the 'Sea of Serenity.' And they leave, saying they're going to leave humanity's last footprints. Because it was the final mission of the program. But ever since then, humanity hasn't set foot on the moon a single time." I stared at the moon, which I had been looking up at all this time, with a feeling as if I were seeing it for the first time. Is that so. Actual humans, just like me, have been up there. Thinking about it anew, I felt a sort of terrifying sensation. The moon floats in a dark void, and there are no reliable means whatsoever to go all the way up there. There is no air, no gravity, it is unimaginably cold... Why on earth did humanity think of going to such a place? And how could they believe they were capable of going to a place like that? Perhaps humanity has already awakened from that dream. Master, who ought to have wanted to become an astronaut, is now lying flat on the ground like this. "When did you give up on it?"
"Let's see. When I was in the fifth grade of elementary school." "That's early." You could have kept dreaming a little longer. It was remarkably sensible for this Master of mine, who had a reputation for turning a blind eye to reality. "You laughed. But I still remember it. That was the night the summer vacation of my fifth year in elementary school started. I was supposed to go to an English cram school." "An elementary schooler studying English?" "Naturally. If I wanted to become an astronaut, English proficiency was absolutely essential. So I asked my parents and decided to attend a nearby cram school that taught English." There was a person who went to America—my grandfather's younger brother, Master said, still looking up at the moon. "His name was Hisashi, written with the characters for turtle and rule. He was a man overflowing with vitality. He married an American woman and went over there. At first, he tried to run a soba shop in New York, but it failed, and he worked as a taxi driver for a while. Then, with the money he saved, he started a sushi bar this time, and it became a hit. He made a fortune. He's still running that restaurant now, and he has four or five branch stores. He kept his green card and never applied for naturalization, but the children born over there have American citizenship. What they call second-generation Japanese-Americans. His eldest son was named Rick, and after going to an engineering university, he joined NASA." "Eh? Really?" "Yeah. He was a vehicle development engineer. Mr. Hisashi brings his whole family to visit my family home every New Year. Rick—who worked at NASA... since his Japanese name used the character for 'continent,' I called him Uncle Riku, but that Uncle Riku was a hero to me. While he was in Japan, I always pestered him for stories about space rockets and astronauts, and stuck right by his side." Her face relaxed into a look of nostalgia, or so it felt.
"When I told him I wanted to become an astronaut and go to the moon, Uncle Riku would admonish me like this: To do that, I had to study like my life depended on it. Space development from now on wouldn't be pursued by America alone, but through multinational cooperation. Astronauts would also be selected as talented personnel from various countries, so I had to work hard starting now to be chosen as the top astronaut in Japan. I insisted that I would become an American, join NASA, and go into space, but he told me it would be difficult for Kana-chan to enter NASA now. And that today's astronauts weren't NASA employees, but mostly American soldiers." "And that's why you gave up?" "No, I thought I'd try my best. At studying. To become Japan's number one. Especially since he told me it's better to start learning languages early, I decided to learn English first. Before the summer vacation, we had exchanged letters and such, and I made up my mind. I decided to go as soon as summer vacation started. But, on that very first day—"
It was a cram school opened at night by a teacher who had a different job during the day. I was walking along a darkening road heading toward that spot. Because I realized I had forgotten my pencil case halfway and had to run back to get it, I was a little panicked about being late despite it being the first day. As I walked briskly along a road that wasn't properly paved like it is now, I happened to pass in front of a large abandoned factory. Since it wasn't a road I usually frequented, as I casually tried to pass by while peeking into that deserted, eerie building... There was a window on the second floor of the corrugated slate exterior wall, rusted and peeling in places, and someone was there. They smoothly vanished away, but they were definitely looking down at me. I knew instantly that it wasn't a human. I just felt it. I got scared and ran. I ran and kept going. However, when I reached a corner where the receding abandoned factory completely disappeared from sight, I stopped. First of all, surprised that I had stopped myself, I thought about the reason. I want to go back to the abandoned factory. When I thought that, a chilling sensation ran straight down my spine.
I want to know the identity of that gaze looking down from above. It was an unimaginably seductive temptation. By that time, I had already become aware of my own helpless inclination. An irresistible desire for the bizarre. It wasn't just something I sought; the bizarre also constantly sought and desired me. I want to turn around. No, I must not turn around. The start time for the cram school was approaching. I wouldn't make it unless I ran. I could just try hard at studying starting tomorrow. For a brief moment, even such a thought crossed my mind. But a human who said such sweet things could never become the top candidate for a Japanese astronaut. Even as a child, I realized that much. Everything is of a piece. Go back, or move forward? Turn around, or not turn around? I was standing at the sharp fork of those two contradictory choices. The faintly lingering sunset vanished beyond the mountains, and the darkness of the night was pressing in from behind. My shadow, stretching out all alone on the deserted road, was fading from sight. A single curved mirror with peeling paint stood lonesomely in the corner of the road, and the light glowing in its large eye was slowly dying. Go back, or move forward? Turn around, or not turn around? See a ghost, or become an astronaut? Only the sound of my own breathing echoed inside my body. Eventually, I made a choice. As if called by a dark abyss, I chose to go back. I turned around at the corner and stepped toward the abandoned factory. But at that very moment, I felt the presence of a person moving away just behind me. I could even hear the sound of shoes walking briskly. Ah. The other me. I, who had yearned to be an astronaut with a burning passion, had chosen to move forward. The me who went back. The me who moved on. At that time, I split into two. Both of them were me. The two of me turned their backs on each other and started walking.
The me who went back saw something not of this world at the abandoned factory. It was terribly grotesque, horrifying, and beautiful. After that, I stopped speaking of the dream of wanting to become an astronaut. Because that was something the me who had gone to the English cram school was supposed to fulfill.
Uncle Riku retired from NASA a few years later. Before the Space Shuttle era arrived. It was due to the successive budget cuts by the US government regarding space development. The outsourcing of various equipment increased, and Uncle Riku also found re-employment at a private company handling such operations, but within that company, which was expanding its business multi-dimensionally into the military-industrial complex as well, he eventually found himself excluded from projects related to space development more and more often. *“I suppose I’ll never be involved in developing vehicles to drive around on places other Earth again.”* That deep-set, chiseled profile when he said that with a lonely look is still burned into my mind. There was only resignation and a sense of helplessness there, knowing that the days when he poured his all into that technology had drifted far away. From the new ground of the lunar surface, humanity had departed for a while—no, perhaps, forever.
"Sometimes, even now, I think about that other me who chose to move forward at the corner leading to the cram school. She must have studied like hell. To the point of coughing up blood. After all, she threw away everything else. And surely, she became the top astronaut candidate in Japan, was selected as an astronaut, and rose into the sky. The world chosen by the other me is one that believes—like a child—in the value of humans setting foot on other celestial bodies while remaining human. Just as I believed. That kind of world. In that world, the manned lunar landing program is revived, and I am chosen as part of the crew. And following the egotistical commander who insists he won't give up this perk, I become the second, or even more humbly the third, lunar walker since Cernan and Schmitt." Master spoke in a sleepy, unhurried voice. Not necessarily to be heard by me sitting beside her. Before I knew it, the sound of insects had grown a little quieter. It sounded as if it were coming from somewhere very far away.
"Various missions on the lunar surface are assigned, and my comrades are super busy. I drive all over the place in the lunar rover (lunar vehicle) for which Uncle Riku developed many of the parts. I regularly sleep inside the lander, and several days pass by. A much longer stay than during the Apollo program. Amidst those days chased by work, I am given free time. Of course, I make scheduled communications, and I can't go far either. Even so, I go to a place where the lander or the Stars and Stripes—spread out by a rod and not fluttering in the wind—are out of sight, and there I lie down all by myself. It is very quiet there. Because the moon's feeble gravity couldn't hold onto an atmosphere, even though it's on the ground of the lunar surface, it is a world of vacuum. The sound of air and cooling water circulating inside the spacesuit. That is the only sound in that world. Because there is no atmosphere, the view is clear and I can see endlessly far into the distance. It is a chilling sight. A white ground, and a black sky. There is no such thing as a boundary line between the sky and space. Every part of that ground is the bottom of space. A world where no living creature can survive, neither on the ground nor in the sky. If not for the spacesuit, packed with Earth... Trembling with a sense of helplessness, I suddenly felt as though I sensed someone's gaze. I looked around my surroundings, but there was no one. Other than my companions on the other side of the small hill, there was no one. Upon this vast expanse of ground measuring thirty-eight million square kilometers, not a single person. Knowing that, I remember the ghost I saw when I was a child. However, even that ghost is not here. It cannot exist here. Because historically, no human has ever died on this lunar surface, nor in outer space. A world without ghosts. I feel a terror unlike anything I have ever felt before. Loneliness envelops me in place of an atmosphere. The gaze I had felt—no, the illusion of a gaze—eventually fades away. I—"
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