Prologue

 

 


I only learned how to ride a bike when I was fairly old.

 

 

The location is the park, the equipment is a child’s bike without safety wheels. On the blue frame with cartoon pictures, there are also the many baseball stickers my old man insisted on.

 

 

“Promise, you won’t let go!”

 

 

My father nods, crouching as he holds on to the rack at the back:

 

 

“Don’t worry! Yuu-chan, I definitely won’t let go, and even if I do I’ll tell you beforehand.”

 

 

We made a pinky swear.

 

 

And so my feet, trembling with excitement and nerves, pressed down on the heavy pedals. Every time the pedals make a full round, the early summer breeze kisses my face, and my short fringe pats my forehead. My father’s footsteps become hastier, I know he’s running as he helps me keep the bike steady. When the footsteps stop, I get excited beyond my wits, and even the pedals feel half as light as they did before. I’ve finally learned how to ride! Although measuring the distance, it was only around a few hundred metres.

 

 

At that moment, full with a childish sense of accomplishment, I turned back to look for my father, who was supposed to be standing in the distance.

 

 

“I’ve learned how to ride&h.e.l.lip; Eh?”

 

 

Father was still holding onto the rack, his face red, breathlessly saying,

 

 

“You see&h.e.l.lip; Papa&h.e.l.lip; kept his&h.e.l.lip; promise&h.e.l.lip; and didn’t let go&h.e.l.lip; right?”

 

 

Every time I think back to that day, I feel embarra.s.sed.

 

 

&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;Honestly, though, anyone else would have let go halfway, right?

 

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