A Mock Date With Toko-senpai!

The long-awaited Sunday had finally arrived.

I set out from my parents’ house in the small liter car my mother usually drives, one of the two vehicles my family owns. My dad was using the mini-wagon to go golfing.

I arrived at Kemigawahama Station on the JR Keiyo Line.

There were still more than fifteen minutes until our 8:00 AM meeting time, but Toko-senpai was already there waiting.

“Good morning. You’re early. We still have quite a bit of time before the promised hour.”

“Well, you always show up earlier than planned,” she said as she climbed into the car and fastened her seatbelt. “I thought I’d try coming early to wait for you for once.”

She looked at me and asked, “So, where are you taking me today?”

“I thought about it a lot. I want to take a lot of photos, so—though it’s a bit cliché—I was thinking of going to Minamiboso.”

“Eh? Taking photos?” Toko-senpai looked surprised.

“Yes. At the end of the day, I’m going to give all those photos to you. I want you to look at them as a reference for what I consider ‘cute.’”

Toko-senpai looked a bit dissatisfied, but she simply replied, “Alright.”

I started the car and immediately headed for the highway, first toward Kisarazu. We would take the expressway as far as Futtsu.

“Whereabouts in Minamiboso are we going?” Toko-senpai asked.

“I’m thinking of going from Mount Nokogiri toward Tateyama, visiting Okinoshima at the southernmost tip, and then heading back via Katsuura.”

“So, half a loop around Minamiboso. That certainly is cliché for a Chiba resident,” Toko-senpai said with a laugh.

“I actually agonized over the destination. I thought about the Tokyo area, but it’s always so crowded and there aren’t many places where you can take photos calmly. Hitachi Seaside Park in Ibaraki would have been great, but the flowers in bloom this time of year aren’t at their best.”

Hitachi Seaside Park in Ibaraki is a famous photography spot where the hills are covered in flowers—blue nemophilas in spring and pink kochia in autumn. Unfortunately, in mid-November, the kochia season had already passed.

“It’s fine, isn’t it? On my day off, I’d rather be somewhere a bit relaxing than fighting crowds in Tokyo. Besides, Minamiboso should be warm even this time of year. The weather is lovely today, too.”

“Yeah, I’m glad it’s clear. By the way, we’ll be doing a fair amount of walking today. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m fine. You warned me beforehand to ‘wear comfortable sneakers since it’s outdoors,’ after all.”

We exited the Tateyama Expressway at the Futtsu-Kanaya Interchange. From there, we took Route 127, turned onto the Mount Nokogiri Climbing Motorway, and entered Nihon-ji Temple halfway up the mountain.

“This might be my first time actually coming to Mount Nokogiri,” Toko-senpai remarked as she looked with interest at the Great Buddha carved into the quarry, the various stone statues, and the Hyakushaku Kannon. She showed an unexpectedly childlike expression.

“I’m glad. I was worried that girls might find temples and Buddhist statues boring.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Lately, there are plenty of ‘history girls’ and women who enjoy visiting shrines and temples.”

I snapped a photo of Toko-senpai the moment she turned around. The background was the mountain path leading to the Hyakushaku Kannon—a cool, shaded spot sandwiched between sheer stone walls. The shadows of the trees added a nice atmosphere.

“Hey, are you just going to take photos suddenly without warning?” Toko-senpai pouted.

“Yeah. I want to capture you in a natural state if possible. Since this is about Toko-senpai seen through my eyes.”

“Hmm…” Toko-senpai still looked a bit miffed, but she didn’t say anything more.

From there, we climbed higher and reached “Jigoku Nozoki” (The View into Hell). It’s a spot where a rock juts out like a ledge, with a vertical drop of about thirty meters below.

“Looking down from the tip of that ledge is called the View into Hell,” I explained. Toko-senpai’s face grew anxious.

“I… I’m not good with high places…”

“But we came all this way. It wouldn’t mean much if we didn’t see it, right?”

Toko-senpai looked at me with resentful eyes.

“Let’s go together. I’ll hold your hand.”

Toko-senpai hesitated for a moment, then silently reached out her hand.

“Just so you know, the ‘suspension bridge effect’ won’t work on me.”

Despite her words, Toko-senpai gripped my hand tightly as she stepped tentatively toward the edge of the rock. We moved along the railing to the very tip of the protrusion.

“This is the View into Hell.”

I looked down as well. The sensation of being thrust out into empty space with nothing beneath my feet definitely made my knees feel a bit weak. Toko-senpai unconsciously squeezed my hand even harder. I snapped a photo of her anxious profile.

At the click of the shutter, she realized she’d been photographed.

“You’re taking pictures even in a place like this?”

“I want to capture all sorts of expressions.”

Toko-senpai shyly looked away. “Make sure you delete every single one later.”

I gave a wry smile and changed the subject. “Monks used to train here in the old days, didn’t they? To forge their mental strength and concentration.”

“I don’t think that would do much good,” she said, trying to act tough even as her expression remained stiff. I felt a sudden urge to tease her.

“If an earthquake hit right now, we’d be done for. If this jutting rock crumbled, we’d go straight down.”

“Hey! Stop it!”

Toko-senpai spun toward me, looking genuinely angry. This was bad.

“Sorry, I’m joking.”

“Honestly!”

“But if something like that did happen, I’d definitely save you, Toko-senpai. At the very least.”

Toko-senpai glanced at me. Then, in a small voice, she whispered:

“I told you… the ‘suspension bridge effect’ doesn’t work.”