{Sato-san and Words from the Heart}

“I feel like even if I say exactly what I’m thinking, I can’t convey it well,” Sato-san says in the corner of the classroom at dusk.

“Words like ‘poor thing,’ ‘went through a tough time,’ and ‘but they persevered and are admirable’—those are the things I felt, but when I try to put them into words, they seem so cheap.”

A lack of vocabulary might be the issue. It could be as simple as that.

But is Sato-san’s difficulty in expressing what she felt and thought in writing really just that?

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Even though I’m moved, when I try to put that into words, it somehow feels pretentious. It’s as if I’m just pitying Helen.”

When the word “pity” came up, I felt a jolt inside.

But Sato-san wouldn’t know such feelings.

“It’s weird for someone like me to say that she is admirable or that she is working really hard. She must have gone into much more struggle than what’s included in the book. There for I, who knows so little, to praise her excessively feels cheap.”

Sato-san placed her hand on the biography of Helen Keller and lowered her gaze.

It was not a thick book.

In fact, it seemed almost too thin to encompass an entire lifetime.

It’s impossible to capture the entirety of Helen Keller’s life in a single book. That’s true not just for her, but for anyone.

But Sato-san is mistaken. She’s being too inefficient. What she needs to write about is the impression of this book. It’s the impression of this book, which presents only a small part of Helen Keller’s life in an accessible manner. It’s not about her entire life.

If it were me, I would write about the highlights of the book and describe what I felt in a suitable manner.

I had confidence in writing a report that would please the teacher. I would string together what could be seen as “cheap” words, give the impression that I was deeply moved, and write a report that wasn’t truly reflective of my thoughts. I would submit it and, of course, avoid having to resubmit it.

Sato-san couldn’t do that. She couldn’t separate the content of the book from the life of the historical figure. Of course, it was an unnecessary seriousness, but it was also very much like her.

It was a deeply characteristic sensitivity that was truly striking.

I leaned on my desk, trying to hide my agitation.

Then I said somewhat flippantly.

“Maybe ‘empathy’ would be a good term.”

“Empathy?”

“Yes. Not pity.”

I didn’t like the word “pity.”

I didn’t want to hold such feelings.

“What you’re saying isn’t limited to books. In human relationships, there are times when you might not know everything about the other person, but you still find a connection. Even if you don’t have a deep relationship, you might like certain aspects of that person.”

Once I started talking, words seemed to slip out smoothly from the back of my mind.

It felt like I was confessing something I had long wanted to say.

“Yeah.”

Sato-san looked at me with a serious expression.

We were staring at each other.

It felt strange. Normally, we wouldn’t look at each other so directly or discuss serious topics like this. It might have been the quiet atmosphere of the classroom in the late afternoon that was creating this mood.

Encouraged by the atmosphere, I said in one breath.

“I don’t think you need to know everything. Just knowing a little is enough to say you empathize. If you see that person working hard, you can say ‘they’re doing great,’ or if you think they’re admirable, you can say ‘they’re admirable.’ There’s nothing cheap about expressing what you genuinely feel.”

I believe that. There’s nothing cheap about putting your feelings into words.

If it’s not pity but empathy, then expressing your feelings as they are is the best approach.

There’s nothing shameful about it; it’s a very human emotion. So, I think it’s best to express it as it is.

After pouring out my thoughts, I suddenly realized.

Sato-san was still looking at me with a serious expression.

Seeing that, I felt embarrassed. I added quietly, as if making excuses.

“Well, it’s just one opinion…”

“No.”

Sato-san shook her head.

“Yamaguchi-kun’s opinion was very helpful. I wanted to know those words.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. I think I’ve come to really like Helen Keller.”

She said with a bright smile.

“As I followed her life and continued reading, I think I came to really like her. I wanted to write about those feelings, but I couldn’t quite express them.”

She clasped her small hands tightly in front of her chest.

“But if it’s about someone you like, it doesn’t matter what words you use. You should just write what you genuinely feel without worrying about choosing words.”

“Yeah…”

I was surprisingly unsettled.

Sato-san’s figure, cast in my shadow, stood out clearly even in the shadow. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed intently at me.

Her expression was bright. Even without being illuminated by the sun, it was plenty bright.

“Thank you, Yamaguchi-kun. I think I’ll be able to write about what I truly felt.”

Sato-san smiled.

At that moment, my discomfort hit a peak, and I found myself standing up from my seat.

—What’s this? Why am I feeling so embarrassed?

Maybe it was because we had such an unusually serious conversation.

“Oh… sorry, I need to catch my bus.”

I finally said with a hesitant voice.

Despite this, I hadn’t checked the time. I didn’t have the luxury to check. So I didn’t know how long it had been since I entered the classroom.

“Well then, good luck with your report.”

I grabbed my flimsy bag and hurriedly tried to leave the classroom.

“Yamaguchi-kun!”

I stopped in my tracks just before the door when she called my name.

But I couldn’t turn around.

I just watched the long shadow extending from my feet.

I heard the sound of Sato-san standing up a short distance behind me.

“Thank you so much for today.”

Sato-san’s voice, echoing in the quiet space, also sounded somewhat hesitant.

Her shadow fell over my feet.

Her shadow moved closer, almost touching mine.

“See you tomorrow, Yamaguchi-kun.”

Sato-san’s words thrown at my back were gentle.

It was an ordinary farewell.

But to me, it sounded like a firm promise.

If I come here again tomorrow, I’ll see Sato-san. We’ll sit next to each other, talk about trivial things, watch her fidgety behavior, and help each other in class—what had seemed like annoying days, now seem reassuring.

Right now, I felt more relieved by that than anything else.

“Yeah.”

I nodded without turning around.

“See you tomorrow.”

After responding in a barely audible voice, I ran out into the hallway.

Even as I ran, my head was spinning.

While I intended to give advice to Sato-san, I couldn’t shake the feeling that her words had pierced through to some truth within me.

In other words, maybe I wasn’t feeling pity or empathy.

Seeing just a small part of her, a few aspects, it’s incredible, but I might have actually come to like her.

No, of course, as a classmate. Just that.

Since expressing it honestly might lead to misunderstandings, I kept it to myself. There’s probably no need to say it.

I just like her.

Quite a lot, actually.