Kino no Tabi:Volume16 Special1

Photo's Day to Day 「The Reality I Wish I Could See」 —Family Picture—

My name is Sou. I'm a motorrad (Note: a two-wheeled vehicle. Just note that it cannot fly).

I was designed to be stored in a small car's trunk, so I'm kind of a weird motorrad. My frame is already small, but stuff like my handles and seat can be folded up, so I'm even more compact. I can't go that fast though.

My rider and owner is named Photo. Sex: Female. Age: 17. Has black hair that goes halfway down her back.

Photo and I used to be the possessions of a group of merchants. I was merchandise; Photo was a slave.

By some trick of fate, we had a hysterically run of good luck. The merchants were all wiped out by eating poison.

Photo became free and I became her partner.

A bunch of stuff happened and we made it to our current country, where we started to make a life. A bunch more stuff happened here and Photo became rich, but — she loves photography so much that she works as a photographer on request.

And that's where her name comes from. She has no past name.

—

A certain day.

"Sou! There's a letter! Read it, read it!"

The ever-cheerful master of this shop, Photo, came flying in from the entrance with her voice raised.

Jeans and a checkered shirt. Her long, black hair was pulled up from the nape of her neck and tied at the back of her head.

"Fine, fine. Show me, show me."

I replied to Photo like I always did from the living room of our house.

The letters that came to this house were usually requests for work (the rest were thank-yous).

Photo, who didn't even really go to primary school, can't read. She'd been practicing recently, bit-by-bit, and she could read and write simple words, but not enough to read commissions.

Photo smiled without a care in the world, "Okay!"

As always, she opened the letter and stuck it out in front of my headlight.

I could still read it if she didn't put it right there though. Motorrads have a field of vision that extends in all directions. The letter was upside-down. That didn't bother me though.

I have absolutely no clue how this letter was written — the letters were huge. It's like it was written as a newspaper headline.

I read it out loud, "'Excuse me — This is a request for the photographer on Poplar Street. Please take a picture of me and my family. I don't have much money, so I can only request three copies of one picture. I don't have much time either. Please visit my family soon! I'm sorry for being unreasonable. But there's no one else I can ask. I hope you will accept my request. If you will, please come to my house. As soon as possible.' — That's it. The address... oh, it's pretty close. We can get there in 30 minutes."

This country is unreasonably big. Driving from one end to the other would take two whole days. Something 30 minutes away is relatively close. On a side-note, when we get requests to take photographs somewhere far away, we rent a small truck and stay the night.

"Okay! Let's go right now, Sou!" Photo said, already pumped up.

Whether to take on work is something Photo and I agree on together.

It's Photo's job, so originally she decided on her own, but at one point, she still kept accepting new requests without thinking about the work she already had piling up. Since then, I've worked to manage her schedule. After all, I can't have my only rider collapsing from overwork.

It was just 1 o'clock in the afternoon. The weather wasn't bad. There wasn't any work scheduled for today or tomorrow, and the day after that was a holiday in this country.

There shouldn't be any problems taking this job. I mean, it's just a single-shot family picture. And tell the truth, I wanted to drive.

"Sounds good. Let's go now."

—

"The weather's great, huh. Perfect for a picture, huh. Perfect for a motorrad, huh."

"Pretty much."

Photo and I rode at a casual pace down the country road.

The sky was a clear blue, and the temperature was just right (for Photo).

Photo wore a green jacket and a white helmet she'd bought here. It's called a "jet-type helmet," leaving a large part of the face uncovered, except for a transparent screen.

She wore gloves on her hands and boots on her feet that went past the ankle.

Helmet, jacket, gloves, and boots were mandatory when riding me. Wearing a helmet wasn't required by the country's laws, but I don't feel like seeing a girl's face or head get damaged.

Photo was carrying a rucksack of photography equipment on her back. It contained two single-lens cameras and two replacement lenses. It also held film, a thermos, and snacks, and there was a tripod tied on from the outside.

The rucksack was heavy, but a small frame like mine has no way to carry luggage. In order to keep the hard cameras from hurting her while we rode, she had sewed cushioning into the inside of the bag.

"Hey, Sou. What's that bird on the left side?"

"Ah, that's a thrush. That one's migratory."

"Oh... I want to try taking a picture. While we're around here!"

"You'd need a longer-range lens than what you have with you. You wanted one before, remember? Maybe it's finally time to buy it?"

"Well, I did want it..."

"The old guy at the camera shop was really pushing for you to buy it. Besides, you're rich. If you want to buy it, you have more than enough to afford it. If you ask nicely, you can probably have it by tomorrow."

"Well... I'll buy it if I have a really good opportunity, but right now I don't want to spend that much money."

"Okay. Well it is something you'd use for work. I think it's okay to spend some money on that. It's an 'investment,' you know."

"Investment?"

"I have to explain that, huh..."

Photo and I chatted as we continued down the road. Almost exactly 30 minutes after we'd left, we found the address that was written on the letter.

—

"Excuse me! I'm the photographer!"

I couldn't tell what was going on inside, but I could hear voices. Motorrads have good hearing, after all.

"Welcome — huh? Photographer?"

The middle-aged woman tending the shop had audible confusion in her voice.

Photo continued single-mindedly in her usual cheery voice, "Yes! I accepted your request and I came to visit and take your picture! I'll be ready in just a second! The direction of the sunlight is good here, so how about doing it in front of the shop? Ah, do you not have everyone here right now?"

"Wait, I don't understand what you're saying..." The woman no longer just sounded confused, she was really and truly confused.

"Photographer? Miss... Are you sure you haven't made some kind of mistake?" A middle-aged man's voice came from inside the store. The woman's husband, probably. "You probably came to the wrong address, right?"

How rude! This was the address on the letter, no mistake. You think we'd get lost? Photo maybe, but I'm a motorrad!

"Umm... We got a letter, and I don't think we got the address wrong..." Photo's resolve was gone, and her reply was timid.

As she spoke, someone else came down the stairs. "Ah, Dad! Mom! I wrote that!"

The letter's author appeared. Judging from the voice, it was a young boy, and judging from what he said, he was the son of this family.

"You're the photographer! I'm so happy! You really came!"

"Yes! I'm Photo! I'm here to take on your request for a family picture!"

In contrast to the two happy voices, the mother and father just seemed surprised.

"Huh? A family picture...?"

"You mean with the three of us...?"

The son explained to Photo, "I'm going to go away to school in a faraway town soon. I'll be separate from Mom and Dad for a while. So I want a picture of us three! I saved up my allowance so I can pay!"

I see. What a thoughtful young man.

The "three copies" mentioned in the letter must have been so that his parents could each have one too. "A faraway town" in this country really would be far away. He wouldn't be able to visit home easily.

Just to make sure you're aware — cameras are extremely valuable in this country. As in, buying a camera was the same as buying a car, sometimes even more.

For regular citizens, they'd only get a chance to get a photo once every couple years. There were many people who had never seen a picture of themselves. The value of a single picture here is completely different from that in a country where regular citizens have cameras.

And so — the parents would be deeply touched by their devoted son's sudden request, celebrate his new life, smile and cry a little for the camera, and then Photo's work here would be done.

At least, that's what I imagined, but the father sounded dismissive, "I... don't like 'em. Don't like pictures."

The mother agreed in open distaste, "Me too, they're just... Why don't you give it up?"

Not at all what I expected.

"Come on! Dad! Mom! We'll never get a chance like this again! This lady will take a picture for really cheap!"

This exchange continued for a while longer, with the son desperately trying to convince them to take a family picture, and the parents stubbornly refusing.

The parents said all sorts of things; that having your picture taken was rumored to make your health worse or get your soul sucked away, that even a relatively cheap photograph would still cost a lot of money, and besides, a little girl like this wouldn't be able to take a good picture anyhow.

I could vouch for Photo's skill, at least. But I was parked outside the shop, and couldn't interrupt. Photo didn't respond with anything like that either. She should be more confident.

"If you want a picture that bad, then take it by yourself. You can keep it here when you leave. Go ahead."

"But Dad, then there's no point! It has to be a picture of us three together!"

"Well I say no! Mama, you look after the shop for a bit," the father declared, and there came the sound of footsteps plodding up the stairs.

"I don't want a photograph either. You can take it by yourself, just as your father said. Also, it's not good for your eyes, so stop with the letters!"

And with that, the discussion was over.

The silence hung for a moment.

"Umm..." I heard Photo's troubled voice. I thought that maybe, not knowing what to do, she'd want to leave without finishing the job, but instead she said, "For right now, why don't we step outside? We can talk out there."

Which is to say that she wanted to get away from the parents and include me in the conversation. Not bad, she was able to make a pretty calm decision.

The kid agreed and I heard two sets of footsteps coming out of the shop. The footsteps got closer, until Photo was standing next to me.

"This is my partner, Sou the motorrad. Sou, this is our client."

Standing with a hand on the wall of the shop was a boy of about 12. He was tall for his age, thin, with short blond hair, and sunglasses.

It was unusual for a boy his age to be wearing sunglasses out here in the countryside. I understood the reason soon.

"Hello. Mr. Motorrad. My eyes are really bad, so excuse me for wearing my sunglasses."

Now I understood. His eyesight was weak. He kept his hand on the wall in order to keep track of where he was.

"Sou! Our client's parents —"

Photo had started to explain, but I interrupted, "I heard it all. They don't want to take a family picture at all, right?"

"Yeah! What should we do...?"

"Well the subjects themselves really don't want to be photographed. There's nothing we can do, right? What are you going to do, tie them up by the neck and make them?"

"But... I guess you're right..."

Photo was dejected. Standing next to her, the boy was also dejected.

I asked the boy, "There's not much time before you leave, is that right?"

"Yes. I'm leaving in the morning in three days."

Three days, huh. Not very flexible.

"I'm entering a government school for the blind. I might go completely blind in the future. My parents said I should just help out in the store, and that I can always hire someone to follow my directions, but that's not what I want. I want to be able to work for myself and study to become a masseur."

I see. Wanting to be independent, despite a handicap is admirable. It's also admirable that this country was willing to support that.

"School for the blind?"

I gave a brief explanation to the puzzled Photo (the concept probably never existed in the country Photo had been born in).

Then I asked the boy, "So you'll be living in a dorm, right? And that's why you want a family picture."

"Yes. Also, because my eyes are like this, I can't really see my parents' faces that well. I'd be able to see them in a picture though, so I was looking forward to that... I didn't think Mom and Dad would hate pictures that much..."

"Well, it's common with older people."

"But what should we do...?" The young man was severely distressed.

"What should we do...?" Photo was just as severely distressed.

I mean, Photo could just say, "Under these circumstances, we can't fulfill the request," and leave, but that wasn't her. Instead she was thinking alongside him.

It couldn't be helped, so I offered a suggestion, "If it's just the boy alone, we could take the picture right now."

The two of them nodded. Yeah, it'd be great if we could just take it right now.

"But that wouldn't satisfy either of you, would it?"

"Right. I really want a picture of all three of us! Smiling!"

Of course, that's only natural for a family picture.

Photo agreed, "Yeah, that's no good! That's not a picture our client can bring to school and say, 'This is my great family' about!"

True enough.

"Then that'll be our last resort. Let's try undercover photographs."

"Undercover photographs?" "Undercover photographs?"

Their voices synced up perfectly.

"Yeah. The kid brings his parents outside. Make up whatever reason you need to. Then make them smile. Photo will be lying in wait for that moment and will take the shot."

"Aha..." "Aha..."

Their voices synced up perfectly.

Photo asked, "But how do I take it? If I'm there, they'll run away, right? If I have to snap a quick shot... I don't know if I can get a good picture..."

A reasonable question, but I already had the answer.

"Photo, look back. There's a grove of trees 64 meters away, facing the front of the shop, right? You can set up the tripod and hide over there."

"Ohh, I get it... But I can't take a good portrait from that far away, you know? They'll be tiny, and you won't be able to see their faces."

"Sure you can. If you buy that long-range lens."

"Ahh..."

"There's no better opportunity, right?"

—

Two days later, early morning.

Photo and I were in a grove of trees.

It was thick with undergrowth and flittering insects.

I was hidden in the shade of a thick tree. "Do you best, Photo."

"Got it! I'll only have a moment, right? For my shot!"

Photo was thoroughly charged-up, sitting in her folding chair and peeking through the viewfinder of the camera, fixed onto its tripod.

The long-range lens was a thing of beauty, as long as a bat. The morning before, the old shopkeep from the camera store had brought it over, grinning uncomfortably wide.

Well, the thing costed more than an average person's annual wage. I'd smile too.

The lens was abnormally large and heavy, so it was attached to the tripod. The camera itself was hanging out behind it.

This lens would make it possible to take a picture of the three of them from dozens of meters away as if they were right in front of us.

We'd spent all of yesterday practicing with the lens.

We'd left early this morning with the lens in a trunk that you might expect someone to carry gold in. Of course, Photo couldn't carry it on her back, so we rented a small truck. We drove through the darkness and successfully made our way to this grove in secret (on a side-note, Photo really doesn't mind getting dirty or going through trouble when it comes to photography).

Photo wore the same green cloth over her head that she used to cover the camera and lens, and she tightly clutched the release (cable to press the shutter).

"Okay, any time now..."

Her eyes shined like a hunter lying in wait for its prey. I suppose gunshots and snapshots are similar like that.

Photo had already set the exposure time and readied the focus.

If the boy could get his parents outside, then Photo should be able to get a perfect shot of their faces.

I couldn't guarantee that they'd be smiling faces though.

—

We waited there without moving for three full hours.

"Hey!" I said, curtly.

"Mm!"

Photo, who had been showing signs of weariness, sharply straightened her back and put her eye on the finder again.

The shutters of the shop were lifting up.

The boy with the sunglasses came out.

He spent a while setting the shutter in place and opening the windows to let in fresh air.

"…"

Photo and I both kept watch, without moving a muscle — well, I can't move of my own free will anyway — and then the boy's figure disappeared back into the shop.

Photo and I both wondered, "Did he fail?"

But a moment later, the boy came, leading his parents out of the shop. The parents were in their pajamas, but they didn't show any signs of doubt as they followed the boy —

"Not yet..." Photo sighed.

The mother was standing behind the boy, and Photo couldn't get a good shot when they overlapped.

Then, the boy suddenly began doing morning exercises. He swung his arms, he twisted his hips.

Laughing, his parents started to join in. As they did, they spread themselves out so they wouldn't bump into each other. Well played.

"Nice!"

There was the sound of Photo pressing the shutter and the camera's film roll turning.

The three figures continued their morning exercises, and Photo continued shooting.

Eventually, they finished, and as they stood next to each other —

"Wow, wonderful!"

Photo took another shot.

The boy was flashing his teeth, beneath his sunglasses.

Next to him, his father smiled too, as if saying, "What got into you all of a sudden?"

On his other side, his mother smiled too, as if saying, "It was fun though."

I wondered if it was captured well in the film cell.

The three of them disappeared into the shop, and Photo turned to look at me.

"Sou! We did it!" she said, her eyes wet.

—

I don't know whether she noticed —

But when the parents came out of the shop, I got it. I understood.

Why the two of them hated the idea of a family picture so much.

—

After that, we quickly packed up.

Photo worked hard to carry the luggage into the truck, drive me onto the carrier, and then tie me off with rope.

We hurried home and brought the film into the usual developing place. It was a holiday, but yesterday we had begged and paid a fee to have it done today.

We asked for five copies of each shot. The boy was leaving tomorrow, so there was the fear that showing him the film and asking him to choose wouldn't be enough time to have the developing done.

All of that made this an excessively expensive job, but Photo hadn't cared.

"We'll be able to take their picture! Isn't it exciting?!"

—

That night, the finished pictures were delivered.

There were several shots of them exercising together, and then at the end, their smiling faces all lined up; the perfect family picture.

"Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!" Photo bounced up and down in joy for the great pictures. "We can still make it! Let's go deliver them today!"

She already had her helmet on, but I said, "Wait a second, I need to tell you something."

Photo sat down in a chair.

I continued, "Didn't you notice anything after looking at the pictures?"

"Hm? — Ahh, I know! The long-range lens is great! I'm so glad we bought it!"

"Well, that's true, but..."

This wouldn't work. I had to just say it.

"Look carefully at the last picture. The kid doesn't look anything like either of his parents, does he?"

—

That's right.

It was plain to see that the boy and the parents were different.

The boy had blond hair, but the parents had brown and black.

The boy's skin was white, but the parents' was dark brown.

I knew immediately. The boy wasn't related to them by blood.

Photo stared carefully at the picture.

"Okay, I can see now that you mention it," she agreed readily, "but still, even if they're not blood-related, a kid is a kid and a parent is a parent." She finished without a care in the world, just an oblivious smile.

Well... It's not that her way of thinking was wrong, exactly.

"If he had normal eyesight, he would have noticed. But —"

"Wait... He doesn't know?"

"The parents were really against taking a picture. There's a good chance, don't you think? And if we give him the pictures, he'll find out. That's what the parents were afraid of. That we'd just let it out so easily. Right now, you can still choose to tell him 'I couldn't take it' and not show him. What do you think?"

Photo replied immediately.

—

The next day.

The morning the boy was leaving.

Photo and I drove under the clear sky for 30 minutes to get to the shop.

Photo's backpack held one camera and one envelope full of pictures.

When he heard the sound of my engine outside, the boy called out happily from inside the store, "It's Photo and Sou!"

He was wearing a jacket that was a little too small for him. Dressed up for the big day.

"Were you able to get the picture?" He stood with his hand on the wall of the store, and beneath his sunglasses, he was smiling with his whole face. Of course. We told him that if we failed, we wouldn't come.

"Yes, did we! But —"

"But?"

"I want your parents to see them first. And I want to apologize for photographing them secretly. Could you let me talk to your parents alone for a bit?" Photo sounded resolute.

"Okay, I understand. I'll be on the other side of the store."

—

Photo left me out in front of the shop and walked in by herself. I would have liked to go in as well, but I'd have to leave this one up to her.

"Oh? Miss Photographer..."

"Hm? Oh..."

The mother and father noticed her immediately, without much warmth in their voices.

"Please have a look."

I could hear Photo take the pictures out of the envelope and spread them onto a table. Then I heard the two of them gasp in surprise.

Before they could say anything, Photo continued, "I'm sorry for taking these in secret! I haven't shown these to your son yet! I felt like I should show them to you first!"

"…" "…" The two of them were silent for a moment.

The mother said, "We didn't even go to his school. We got the townsfolk to help us... But this is how he finds out..."

She said it as if it were a curse. I'm sure that she felt annoyed by Photo, to her very core.

"Now I understand why you didn't want to take the picture."

"Then, if we say we don't want you to show our son these pictures, Miss, will you listen?" the father said.

From the expectation in his tone, it was clear that they intended to hide the truth, no matter what.

And then Photo, my master replied, "No."

"What?" "What?"

"I will show these to your son. That's the job I was asked to do by my client. I intend to see my work through."

"…" "…"

"The question is what you want to do after that," Photo proclaimed to the stunned couple.

"I like pictures, but pictures can't do things. Pictures can't run away. Pictures can't tell the truth. Pictures can't do anything. The ones that do things — are always people."

—

Photo and I were outside the shop —

The boy held one of the pictures up to his eyes, almost close enough to touch his sunglasses as he gazed at it. His parents in turn were watching him.

This was probably the first time in his life that he was getting a clear look at himself and a clear look at his parents.

For seven minutes and twelve seconds, he boy stared at the picture in silence. For his parents, who stood looking like they were at a funeral, it must have felt like seven hours.

In the end, the two of them hadn't tried to stop Photo by force or anything from revealing the pictures. I don't know whether they chose not to run or whether they felt they couldn't run from it.

The boy finally looked away from the picture. First, he turned to Photo, "Miss Photo! I'm so happy! I'll treasure this! Thank you so much!"

"You're very welcome!"

Of the four humans here, there was a drastic difference between the two that had beaming smiles and the two that wore grave expressions.

One of the smiling people turned to the two that weren't. "Dad! Mom! I'm so happy! This is the first time in my whole entire life that I've seen your smiles! I'll keep working hard once I get to school!"

"…" "…"

Their response was troubled.

He saw the picture, so it should have been clear to him that they looked different.

They were probably thinking over all the same possibilities as me.

First, it was possible that he had already figured it out by himself (or someone had told him) a while ago, and he'd been lying. But this was unlikely.

Next, he might not find it weird at all that they looked different and he was just really happy. This wasn't impossible, but they looked so different that it would be unnatural not to be concerned about it at all. Given how smart the kid seemed, it didn't seem likely.

The last option was the most likely.

That is, that he couldn't see it. His eyesight had deteriorated to the point that he couldn't even see the picture in front of his face.

Why.

Photo had gotten so far, but she'd never be able to show him the picture.

"You..." The mother had noticed, but couldn't find the words.

"Ahh," the father figured it out soon after, his eyes going wide.

"Hurray!" Photo was the only one who didn't understand.

I wondered whether I should tell Photo the truth.

Almost like the boy's parents.

Translator’s Notes

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