“ ” “Hm?” “Is that not what Aoyama-sensei was thinking?” “Oh—did I say it out loud?” I’d been so busy scribbling away in my notebook that I wasn’t even aware of having voiced the thought. I stopped writing and looked up at Chi-chan across the dining table. Chi-chan was the nickname by which I referred to her in the privacy of my mind; in reality, I called her by the more proper Chizuru-san, but I found it disorienting to think of her as such given the overlap in our names.
Since she was born in the sixth year of Taishō and therefore was four years younger, I used my seniority as an excuse to nickname her as endearingly as I pleased. Chi-chan’s dimples appeared. “No, Aoyama-sensei did not have to say so out loud.
Perhaps you are not aware of this, but ‘Is there something good to eat around here?’ is rather a pet phrase of yours.” “Ha! A glutton can’t hide her true colors!” I put down my pencil and began snacking on the deep-fried fava beans on the table between us. The notes that I’d been so diligently taking were on Taiwan’s railway system as explained to me by Chi-chan.
Kīrun Station in the north, Takao Station in the south. At Chikunan Station, which was located in the south of Shinchiku Prefecture, the rail forked into two lines—the Coastal Line and the Mountain Line—that then merged again at Shōka Station. To reach Taichū Station as I did on my first day, one had to take the Mountain Line, which is also known as the Ta.
