Chapter 47

The cracked black leather cover had split open. On yellowed pages, big blue ball-point letters spilled across the lines.

He had written backwards through time. Natsume Shiro set down his memories, set down his whole life.

74—I'm forgetting things. They say I'm going senile.

I'm old. I want to remember.

Shiro, don't cry. Mama told me not to cry.

69—Hanako left without warning. I owe her. Why didn't I make it up to her? Why didn't I take her to Mount Fuji?

68—Hanako got sick. She said she wanted to see Fuji. I promised I'd take her once she was better, but she never got better.

66—Yuno started college. I wanted to see her off. The ticket was too dear, so I stayed behind. Good kid.

55—I crashed my bike. Steel pins cost too much, so I skipped the surgery. Never rode again.

49—They built a highway past town. Cars left my bicycle in the dust. Bikes aren't allowed on expressways.

43—Old Three died. Only eleven.

40—I bought a bicycle. Rode to work every day. Easy.

32—The brickworks closed. Money was tight. I apprenticed at an izakaya, 900 yen a month.

27—I married Hanako. Became a dad. She was born in '39. I said I'd take her to see Mount Fuji when we had money.

25—The brickworks broke me. Uki's family found her a city job. She begged me to come.

I couldn't. No money, no connections.

I wrote; she wrote back saying she was marrying someone else. Then the letters stopped.

23—I met (smudged) Uki. Two years younger, pretty. She taught me to write.

22—Started at the factory. Worked hard. Contract labor, rough brickworks, but it paid. Someday I'd leave.

20—Worked Uncle's fishing boat. The sea stretched forever. When I had money, I'd see the other shore.

19—Mama died. She never had a good day. After that, I lost touch with my brother and sister.

15—Friends and I made a pact: whoever reached the mountain summit first would make it big. Next day I didn't go.

I had wheat to cut.

Days of wheat. Plenty of time, I thought; the mountain will wait.

But I never went.

Never, in all my life.

I didn't climb, yet it feels like I've been climbing my whole life.

If I'd climbed that day, would there be fewer regrets?

I want to climb that mountain.

I want to climb that mountain.

I want to climb that mountain.

The rice is all cut.

The bicycle is scrap.

I'm finally free.

The kids are grown.

Everything's done.

I'm as old as a camel.

I want to climb. I want to climb.

I want to climb. I want to climb.

I want to climb. I want to climb.

I climbed that mountain.

At the end of his life, he became a boy again.