Bittersweet Research Commission File 2
This is kiyo,
Who has decided on the pink tankini for this summer.

Errghhh,
I’m groaning, though…




Without thinking,
I just experienced the rebirth of the curry noodles I ate the other day.

Today’s dinner was a little bit of a defensive one.

For things like curry and curry noodles, of course, they’re extremely delicious,
And in general, anything but having a lot of it is insufficient, isn’t it?
(shuji’s theory is grounded in this idea.)

So, for some reason, I had that feeling today.


Even though it was just school lunch, they made it better when I was in middle school. The curry. (Though they called it “curry stew”.)

Surely, every morning

Even though I went to school to check the menu for that day, on the curry days I had much more excitement.

When it was time for them to provide us with our meals, about five or six people would approach the desks, and then everyone would eat noisily, right?
I looked forward to that, too. Besides, if someone you liked was in the same group as you, that made it even more fun, riiight?

But, I always had the tendency to try to outdo that person: In my fifth and sixth years of grade school, the person in charge of homeroom, and said person, was “Shimizu-sensei”. We talked about a lot of things, though. About to the point where I was confessing my love for her in the diary we kept for homework.

That teacher was very beautiful, but had a very masculine personality, and so there were many students who adored her. My older sister was also indebted to her. Eh, but needless to say, in my case, it wasn’t that I “adored” her, it’s that I had “fallen in love” with her. For a grade school student, that’s so damn audacious…

So,
That teacher, when it came time for lunch, she would eat at the desks of everyone in each group.

Of course, she came to my group’s desks too.
To make matters worse, that day was also curry day.
To me, that’s a national holiday.
With the significance of a festival.

I would be watching her as she ate, and thinking,
“Ah, so Sensei eats her bread that way…” as she broke off a little piece and stuck it in her mouth.

I would be watching her have a chat with the female students, and be thinking,
“Ah, so those are the kind of jokes she laughs at…”

I would watch her clothes getting dirty with chalk dust and be thinking,
“Aaa, so being a teacher is terrible, too…”

Oh,
For a grade school student I suppose it’s okay, but if you age and still think that way, then you’re just a pervert. No, “pervert” is too strong a word. It’s something like…a prelude to becoming a stalker.

Yeah…
That’s unthinkable too, though…

Eh, anyway, I was always observing her.

One winter day,
I remember being so happy when she asked me,
“You’re always wearing shorts! Aren’t you cold?”
Then, after that, resolving, “I’ll wear shorts forever!” I went out and played soccer during the 20-minute recess. Since I needed to be able to slide to my heart’s content, I wore a long jersey…even now, I think that’s a little bit pathetic.

Yeah. It’s not that my shorts were anything great, though.



Just like that, my sixth year it was time to graduate from that teacher’s class.
Wearing clothes that I wasn’t used to wearing, my legs felt so heavy. I wondered if the ceremony would be postponed because of rain.

That was how horrible it was, my graduation.
That is, my divorce from Sensei.

Even though she had told me that the middle school teacher was even better, I thought of it like that. In all seriousness. Though that wasn’t really the problem.

After the graduation ceremony was over, listening to the teacher talk in the classroom

We asked her to sign all of our notebooks, and, at the end, we all gave her one flower each, one at a time. At that time, there were people who said a lot to her, though even though I was beaming, all I could say to her was
“Um…uh…thank you.”

On the way home from school, I read Shimizu-sensei’s signature over and over again, as if to memorize every nook and cranny of it. Even though her message to me was just a few lines.

After that, Shimizu-sensei was transferred to another school.

Ah, it hurt to think that she wasn’t at that place anymore. But, on the other hand, she was popular enough and had enough gumption that maybe she would become really famous for being such a good teacher, I thought.

Also, reading our mama’s one sentence of concern for me and my older sister in her New Year’s letter, when it finally got to us…aaah, it was healthy, to be soaked in such memories from such a long time ago.

But what, what?
My elementary school graduation was about 20 years ago…

Before our live at Osaka-jo Hall, I found myself thinking, “I wonder if Shimizu-sensei came to see us…”, in spite of the fact that, if you’re from Osaka, there are so many people you want to see you do a live there.

But, because I thought she was probably busy, and regardless, no matter how busy she was, sending out an invitation would be impossible, so, with that thought, I gave it up.
In that case, it was probably a good thing, seeing as the invitation would have been a ‘sink or swim’ sort of thing. It makes you think about things a lot, that does.

So, on that year’s tour, “Joker”,
I thought I’d send her an invitation for sure this time. But aaah, is it really a good idea to send her an invitation in Osaka the day before the show?

And,
Six days after the Osaka live, after the Sendai live was over (at Miyagi Tamikaikan), I got an email from my sister while I was taking a break in my hotel room.

“Shimizu-sensei has passed away”, it said.

My eyes were deceiving me.
It was so hard to swallow, that reality.
It stunned me to the point that I sat there, still shaking.


Anyway,

Tomorrow, I’ll go back to Osaka.

It was really bad timing to be saying anything, but the next day, we didn’t have a live, as we would be traveling, so I told our manager about my plans, and, thanks to him arranging a plane ticket back to Osaka, within the morning on the next day I went back.

At the funeral, I met with other teachers who had been close to her, and we were able to reminisce about various things, standing there and talking.

I returned to my house briefly, getting ready to go to Niigata. To prepare for that live, I took the notebook that Shimizu-sensei had signed, stuck it in my bag, and went to the airport.

So, after 20 years, I read the message that she had left me.

“Don’t brood over things,
Don’t worry,
Let’s live with the brightest spirit we can!”

Aah…
I had been brooding over things…
I’d been worrying about so many things, too…
According to anyone…

My heart hurt to think that it would have been best to not think about things so much before that Osaka-jo Hall live, to have sent an invitation.

I was mourning. At that time, I was really, really mourning.

But, that was Shimizu-sensei for you.
Even when I was a child, she had already seen through so many things, when it came to me.

No matter how many years,
No matter how many decades pass, a teacher is still a teacher, aren’t they?



Please forgive me today, for talking about something so sad.

But, I wasn’t intending for it to be in the beginning, though.

For those of you reading this in the morning, I’m sorry.

It’s hopeless if you forget the words of your friends, teachers, and elder colleagues, isn’t it.


What?
“It’s like casting pearls before swine”?

You bastards!

At least call it “talking to a wall”.

See you later.
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