"Let's Get Married When We Grow Up!": a Promise Made by Many as Children.
But children grow bored quickly. Like a fleeting spell, such promises are often forgotten within a few years.
“I love you, Reiji! Let’s get married when we grow up!”
“I love you too, Misora! Let’s get married!”
This is the story of that fleeting promise turned into a contract between me and her.
Reiji Shibuya and Misora Daiba made this promise around the time they graduated kindergarten.
Then, two months later, while the magic of that promise was still very much alive, we were playing at my house when a news story about professional baseball came on.
“Hey, Dad, what does ‘annual contract’ mean?”
“Hm? Well, how to explain… It means making a promise for just one year.”
“So this guy’s gonna be fired next year?”
“No, next year he’ll make a new promise. They call it ‘contract renewal’—asking to be with each other for another year.”
Fascinated by the idea of renewing a promise every year, Misora and I eagerly asked my dad to explain further, and he patiently broke down the concept of an annual contract for us.
Dad’s explanation was simple:
“Each year, you look back on what made you happy and what you’d like each other to improve on.”
“Then, you set new goals for the year ahead.”
And so, we decided to turn our fleeting childhood promise into a yearly contract.
“I like how Misora is so full of energy in races. But I’d like her to work on… cleaning up.”
“I like how Reiji is always laughing with me. But I wish he’d stop chewing on his pencils.”
We laughed and agreed to work on those things together. For our first goal, we decided to work on these little habits.
“Let’s get married when we grow up, and renew our annual contract for the first time!”
Our early promise was more of a playful vow between two close friends who wanted to stay close. Surprisingly, this contract continued, not just through elementary school, but even into middle school.
Over the years, it turned into a custom where we’d share anything on our minds and even reveal our most heartfelt truths in our annual contract renewal, a once-a-year honesty exchange.
The goofy kid who used to chew on pencils ended up ranked at the top of the class and made it to nationals in tennis. Meanwhile, Misora, who struggled with cleaning up, started singing, dancing, and posting videos that went viral.
In middle school, our goal became to “grow even more.” Competing to see who’d become more popular, I ended up losing to her viral success. Her singing was full of energy, her dance moves were sharp, and, most of all, Misora was cute enough to make anyone fall in love. Her going viral was only natural.
The marriage contract had become half a joke by then, as our relationship turned into one where we could compete and challenge each other. It was as if we were two halves of the same person, best friends at heart.
But things began to change dramatically in April of our third year of middle school, when Misora, the girl who had gone viral with her singing and dancing, passed the document screening for an idol audition, wanting to see “just how far she could go.”
One morning at school, she ran to me in the classroom, her excitement overflowing as she threw herself into my chest.
“Reiji! I made it through the third round of the application! The next step is the audition!!”
“Really?! That’s amazing, Misora! Go give it your best!”
“Yeah!!”
As she hugged me, I hugged her back, feeling her warmth. I kept patting her head until homeroom began, reassuring her she’d be just fine.
The boys in the class looked on with envy, while the girls squealed with excitement.
Officially, we were considered a couple in middle school. If I had to describe our relationship honestly, it was a strange friendship between the opposite sex bound by a promise of marriage. Whether or not I’d actually marry Misora in the future was uncertain, but I wanted to keep this comforting bond until things changed.
The audition Misora was advancing in was to recruit new members for the national idol group “MAROs.” If she made it, things might change quickly… perhaps we’d even grow distant.
Honestly, Misora would fit right in as a national idol. In fact, she’d probably outshine the rest. No girl could be more captivating than Misora.
With three more auditions left to become an idol, I was shocked when she told me she hadn’t made it through the first one.
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