A holiday afternoon. I made my way to a suburban book market.The spacious store was cluttered with magazines, novels, even video games.At the very back was the "100-yen shelf," quietly tucked away—that was my destination.
"…I could just look this stuff up online. It's free, and way faster."
The instant I grumbled in my head, the voice cut in.
—"Online articles are fragmented and superficial. You skim them and forget.But paper reference books are structured; knowledge is organized.All you need to do is read in order. I will arrange it and recall it when necessary."
The voice should have been cold, yet it carried an odd persuasiveness.
On the bottom of the language shelf, dusty old dictionaries and children's English readers lay scattered.A yellowed English–Japanese dictionary.A kid's short-story reader with its spine half torn off.Both priced at 100 yen.
"Who'd buy this old junk…?"
—"You would. The dictionary provides structure, the reader provides examples. Together, they are complete."
Sighing, I picked them both up and headed to the register.The moment I handed over coins, the lightness of my wallet stabbed me with reality.Even so, if I skipped one lunch tomorrow, it would balance out.
Back at my lodging, I sat hugging my knees by the heater and opened the book.I let my eyes drift across the dictionary's pages.
"…All I have to do is look, right?"
—"Correct. There is no need to understand. Simply input, and I will organize."
Each turn of the page brushed rough paper against my fingertips.I couldn't understand a thing. Yet faint static buzzed at the back of my head,as if the words I saw were sinking into my brain.
Minutes later, I paused.I opened the children's reader and traced a line with my eyes.
—"This is my voice."
"…Huh?"
I could read it. Or rather, I felt like I could.Voice.The word before me overlapped with the "voice" inside my head.
—"Correct. You have already understood one."
My chest thumped.
That night—
I scrawled words into my notebook like doodles.book, snow, town.Strangely, even though I'd only glanced at them, the spellings stuck in my mind.
—"Five words a day is enough. That's 1,800 in 365 days.With 1,800 words, daily conversation is entirely manageable."
"…Even for me?"
—"Yes. Even for you."
The voice was cold, and yet, somehow warm.A hundred-yen dictionary. A hundred-yen reader.That tiny investment was already beginning to change my world.
As I slid beneath the futon, a thought came to me.The reason I was learning English, for now, was simply to survive the final exam.Fail, and remedial lessons awaited.That hell of wasted time and endless hassle—I never wanted to taste it again.