Walking on Sunshine

Chapter I

Knee-deep in manure, I begin to rethink how I allowed my life to take its turn from the blinding glare of the ice to the simple life I've lived for the past three years on a quiet farm at the slopes of the mountains of Hasetsu. I lived a promising life as a competitive figure skater, they said. Little did they know that all the failures and losses I've experienced while competing had taken a toll not only to my reputation as a figure skater, but on my anxiety as well. As if I wasn't already an anxious wreck to begin with. Despite all of that, however, people urged me on to continue with my career and have medals weighing proudly against my neck. So I did, for a while. That was, until I had a breakdown at Sochi and did very poorly in my performance because my dog died. I came out last in the scoreboard. The pressure had gotten to me. Instead of going home that day with a medal weighing heavy against my neck, I went home with all the pent-up fears and anxiety all combined into one solid, ugly amorphous lump bearing down against my back. When I went home the year after, I barely even made it to the Nationals at all. It was loss after loss after loss after loss. It was hopeless. The same year, I officially announced my retirement from competitive figure skating and started helping out in our family-run hot spring inn for a while. Then, we received news that my uncle had passed away due to illness with no heirs or spouse left to take care of his property. Not only that, but we were his only living relatives left in Japan as the others had gone overseas. My mother and father had the hot springs to take care of and were busy running the hot springs along with my sister Mari, which leaves me. I figured that a slow change of pace in life couldn't be so bad. I might as well make myself useful. And so, I went up to the task and travelled to the life I currently live now.

Pulling myself up from the manure pit, my face crinkles up in disgust as the offending stench of animal excrement wafts its unwelcome way into my nostrils. This is the second time in a week that I've fallen into the manure pit now. Not only do I reek of sweat, but of shit as well. Letting out a frustrated huff, I shake off what debris I could from my clothes and walked back into the farmhouse with my boots caked mud and filth, taking care to take it off before I enter or risk messing up the floors. With an annoyed grunt, I take to stripping myself down of my dirty clothes and dump them into the empty washing machine before I scrub myself clean in the shower. I dress myself up in a long-sleeved sweater with a button-up shirt worn over it. I pull on some pants and a decent pair of boots before sliding my phone and the keys to the pick-up truck into the back pocket and heading back to work. I begin loading wooden crates filled with the week's harvest into the back of the truck to be delivered to Nishigori, my childhood friend who runs a grocery store less than a mile from the farm. The farm is pretty small compared to others but I guess it makes for a decent crop yield for a one-man run property. I finish loading the week's delivery into the back and fish out my keys from my pocket to open the door and start the car.

When I park the pick-up in front of the grocery store and get off the vehicle, Nishigori greets me with a wide grin and a gruff yet affectionate pat on the back.

"Good morning, Nishigori," I greet him back with a smile as I make my way to the back. "I hope I'm not too late on the deliveries," I add with a slight chuckle.

"Actually, you're just in time!" he replies back cheerfully as he climbs onto the back of the pick-up and begins hauling the wooden crates out and handing them to me to set on the ground.

"Really, I should be doing this myself," I say as I set another crate down.

"Nah, just let me help you out," he insists. "They're quite heavy, after all." He gives me a lopsided grin and flexes a bicep and kisses it to show off. I roll my eyes and snicker in response. To be honest, Nishigori hasn't changed much since we were kids. Still the same gruff yet caring friend I always knew.