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A cicada came flying over that one day, a summer’s day in the winter. It flew back and forth amid the fluttering snow, as if lost, then came to a sudden stop on the sliding door.
I was really happy, before I even realized how peculiar it was. That’s because I like cicadas. Really, really, like them. Whether it’s the cute and childlike nīnīzemi cicada that heralds the start of summer; the somber and refined higurashi cicada; the nimble and lively tsuku tsuku bōshi cicada with its droopy eyes; or my favorite, the aburazemi cicada, whose chirping brings even more heat to a summer’s day.
But they’re just not meant to be here now. Not when it’s this cold. Not when I’m wearing an angora jumper with the heating on.
“So, what exactly are you?”
I opened the glass inner door and poked my head out from the warmth inside to the sliding door outside. The cold air came over me like a spell.
My short-sighted eyes met with the cicada’s (probably) short-sighted eyes for a little while. It was an aburazemi after all. An aburazemi, with its compact brown abdomen that looks like it’s been spritzed with white dust. Despite the weather, it seemed like it was about to chirp loudly.
Maintaining eye contact with the cicada, I opened the sliding door a little, and gingerly reached out with my right hand.
I caught it!
The cicada went crazy within my hand, its wings thrashing like a small electric fan. I gently pushed a restraining finger down at the base of its twitching wings, ensuring not to hurt it.
I was overjoyed. My quarry filled my hand.
“Hey, look. Even though it’s winter there’s a cicada. Weird right?”
Without thinking, I’d called out to my father watching TV in the living room. I soon regretted it.
“Are you still catching cicadas? Act your age already.”
“I know what I like, and I’ll do as I please!” I barked back defiantly.
The situation quickly turned to this with my father and I. At that moment, the doorbell chimed. While I was fuming away, my father said,
“Thinking about it, I always used to call you cicada girl,” as if he’d just recalled it. However, I turned my back on him and headed to the front hallway. My mother’s friend Uehara stood there with my mother’s umbrella.
“How is your mother? Here…”
Uehara laid a bag of mandarins from a nearby supermarket to the side of the front hallway.
“I happened to be in the neighborhood.”
“Ah, thank you. My mother–“
“–and I thought to myself that I really ought to return that umbrella right away.”
The cicada was really wriggling, trying to get out from under my finger, so I clasped both hands around it like a cage. The cicada’s prickly legs pranced around, the itchy feeling a secret pleasure in my hands.
“You could have bought it around any time… my mother will be in the hospital for a long time.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. That must be hard on you.”
The cicada kicked its little motor into action and tickled my palms with its papery wings.
“Hey Uehara. Even though it’s winter, I found a cicada. Isn’t that odd?”
“Really? That is odd. I’m not good with bugs though.”
While looking nervously at my clasped hands, Uehara added,
“Well, it’s about time I got going. Send my best to your mother.”
With that, she left.
I wanted to talk to someone about the cicada. To talk about how curious it was that it was alive in such cold weather. Like a flower blooming out of season. A newly evolved, long-living cicada. They say that the warmer winters in recent years have led to an increase of bugs that usually hibernate. Perhaps it had mutated due to the unusual climate or something. Or maybe the lost cicada had somehow stumbled into winter, bringing the summer with it.
I decided to talk to Sawachi about it. I remember when we’d been out drinking a long time ago, Sawachi had said,
“Yeah, aburazemi cicadas. They’re real good guys. Pretty cool. They’ve got real ambition in them,” while finishing off his highball. He has a way with words. I’d found myself coming to like Sawachi a little.
I put the cicada into my jumper’s sleeve and got my phone out. I scrolled through my contacts and Sawachi’s name was still there.
The dial tone rang out, then I was connected to Sawachi.
“…Yes?”
I gathered myself, and nonchalantly said,
“Long time no speak. Sorry to call out of the blue.”
“Ah, it’s you. Yeah, it’s been a while.”
Seemed he knew it was me right away.
“So, to get right to it – I found a cicada. Even though it’s winter. Weird, right?”
“Huh, a cicada? At this time of year? A cicada? You’re sure it’s not a cockroach?”
Oh come on Sawachi. give me some credit.
“Definitely not. It’s a cicada, an aburazemi cicada. It’s odd right? What do you think? I figured that you know a lot about cicadas.”
The deep silence on the other end of the line stretched on and on, growing deeper still. Then, in a mumbling voice, Sawachi said,
“There are plenty of odd things out there.”
“…Sorry?” I responded.
“In this world. There are lots of odd things in it. Take, for example, you calling me right now.”
The conversation suddenly got a bit intense, so I tried to calm it down a little.
“Hmm… so that’s what you think. I don’t know. I guess things like that make life interesting. For us, or perhaps everyone–“
The cicada poked its head out of my sleeve. It had grown weak from being in my hands for too long, and the time had come to set it free. But honestly, I didn’t know whether to release it in this warm room, or out there, in the fluttering snow.
I promised to go out drinking with Sawachi again some time and hung up.
I left the house through the front hallway, and went to the persimmon tree in the garden.
The tree had shed every last leaf, its ashen, bony branches clawing at the sky.
I placed the cicada upon the tree’s trunk, which was scarred with gutter-like roots, cracks, and crevices. The cicada started a half-hearted ascent of the trunk, coming to a stop now and then as if something were on its mind.
Looking up, the snow seemed to fall from eternity. It gradually grew stronger, gathering upon my face then melting, flowing off in countless streams.
Before I knew it, the cicada had disappeared into the branches of the tree, lost amongst that frigid maze.
My body had grown incredibly cold. Yet somehow, the hands in which I’d held the cicada remained ever toasty, clammy even, as if it were summer. I suddenly realized the cicada didn’t chirp once, even though it was male.
Returning to the front hallway, my mother’s umbrella and that bag of mandarins lay there. In the living room, the TV remained on, but my father was already gone.
I turned off the TV and took the bag of mandarins to the kitchen table just like normal.
My father had passed away a long time ago, and I think Uehara died two years ago. Sawachi was also…
My call with Sawachi remained in my phone history. But I don’t have the courage to try and call him again.
The snow must have been piling up, as the empty house began to fill with a silence like it was compressed.
In this profound silence, my ears began to ring.
It was just like the chirping of an aburazemi on a summer’s day long, long ago.
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Translation education
Bachelor's degree - University of Manchester
Experience
Years of experience: 10. Registered at ProZ.com: Dec 2016.
I live and studied at Waseda University in Tokyo in 2014, and have been translating in some capacity ever since. Upon graduating from the University of Manchester in 2016 with a distinction in spoken Japanese and translation, I have continued translating alongside other work in English as a document reviewer, and later, as a technical writer.
I've had the pleasure of translating for a variety of clients on diverse range of projects, including:
• e-learning courses
• marketing copy/social media
• communications
• subtitling
• e-commerce product and store listings
• content, such as blogs and press releases
• software strings/UI
I'm committed to developing my skills further through training and study, and can quickly learn about products or systems if required for a translation. Feel free to contact me if you think I could help you with a project.
Keywords: technical writing, subtitling, japanese to english translation, copywriting, travel writing, transcreation, localization, localisation, market research, transcription
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