Chapter 07

Chapter 07

 

I AWOKE TO THE SOUNDS OF CHAOS all around me. As I opened my eyes, I came face to face with another girl just waking up. I had no idea who she was, but apparently we had passed out on the subway platform while holding hands. I was wearing a white nightgown, and she was wearing the uniform from the local all-girls’ school.

“Hey! They’re hurt! Somebody call an ambulance!” shouted a distant voice.

“Are you girls all right?”

Who? You mean her and me?

I closed my eyes again. I was really, really tired; I didn’t have the energy to sit up and find out who this other girl was. Plus, my forehead ached, which suggested I was indeed injured.

It felt like the two of us had held hands the entire time we were unconscious. In reality, however, we were probably taken to the hospital in two separate ambulances.

When I finally awoke, it was just before dawn. I moved my stiff limbs and took stock of the bandages applied to my body. My forehead stung again, and when I reached up to touch it, I could feel gauze taped to the right side. Beside the bed, there were signs that I’d been put on a drip; on the bedside table was a bottle of green tea.

I sat up slightly. I was in a four-person hospital room, but the bed across from mine was curtained off, and the other two were empty. My gaze followed the streaming moonlight to the window. It was dark outside, save for the cherry blossoms glowing white.

How long had I been asleep? I hopped down out of bed and walked to the window. It was faintly chilly; I wrapped my arms around myself and gazed out at the cherry blossom petals falling like rain.

I had distant memories of a world blanketed in pure white snow—or was it just my imagination? Was it snow or ice? Was it chiffon or lace or satin? All I remembered was that everything was white and not nearly as cold as it looked.

The round yellow moon shone brightly against the faintly warm canvas of the night sky, illuminating my entire body as if I were in the process of photosynthesis.

“You’re going to make yourself sick, you know.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I whirled around. A girl with a bob cut was standing there in the moonlight, wearing pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. It was the occupant of the bed across from mine—the same girl who was found lying unconscious next to me. Under her thick bangs, her defiant eyes glittered in the light.

“I was just distracted by the cherry blossoms,” I told her, averting my gaze. “I’m sorry… Did I wake you?”

“No, no, not at all. But when I woke up and saw this girl with super-long hair standing at the window, I was like, ‘Is this a dream?’ Glad to know you’re not a ghost, at least.” She laughed amiably. “I’m Oginome Ringo.”

“Ikebe Himari. Nice to meet you.”

Truth be told, this introduction was a little belated, considering they had already technically “met” at Ikebukuro Station…although it still wasn’t clear why they had both passed out next to each other.

“Do we know each other?” Oginome Ringo-san asked, tilting her head slightly as she stood beside me, gazing out the window.

“No, I don’t think so.” Out in the chilly night air, the cherry blossom petals looked like warm feathers.

“Yeah, I don’t think I know you. But the funny thing is…for some reason, I’m glad that I woke up next to you. I don’t know why, but it came as a relief.” She was smiling so brightly, I couldn’t help but smile along with her.

“Call me Himari.”

“Okay then, you can call me Ringo.”

After that, the two of us stood side by side, absently gazing out at the flowers in full bloom. In my mind, I tried to retrace the memory of that biting cold winter, but again and again, I kept losing the thread partway through. And I probably wasn’t the only one trying to piece it together, either.

We stood there for a long time, admiring the big cherry blossom tree from the safety of our dark hospital room…until a nurse came and scolded us, that is.

“Good night,” I told Ringo-chan as I climbed back into bed.

“Night night. See you tomorrow.”

She felt like an old friend—the kind of close friend whose hand I wanted to hold while I was falling asleep. In the end, I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

 

Tokikago Yuri was at peace, bundled up in the blanket Tabuki Keiju brought for her. They sat in a living room far too large for just the two of them, but nevertheless, it was furnished with comfort in mind. Here at the top of the high-rise condo building, they could get a clear view of the entire city through the windows.

“It’s been a long time since I last had the chance to sit back and enjoy the cherry blossoms,” Tabuki murmured absently.

Compared to Yuri, who had spent her adult life swamped with acting gigs, Tabuki surely would have had plenty of opportunities to go on a hanami picnic. She gazed at his unremarkable face—his tacky thick-rimmed glasses, his shaggy hair that he refused to go have cut, and his kind, hardworking vibe. But it was precisely that unremarkable quality that they truly needed in their lives.

“Same here. I’m glad we have this condo.”

Soft orange light enveloped the living room, and as they sat there next to the tall windows with their custom-ordered curtains, Yuri fit perfectly into Tabuki’s arms. They weren’t just embracing each other—they were keeping each other upright, like any other married couple. Meanwhile, the cherry blossom trees glowed ghostly white, their petals falling here and there. It was then that they both remembered the promise they made with Momoka to one day look at the cherry blossoms as a trio.

“Yuri, I finally realized why we were the only ones who survived.”

She could feel his large, warm hands through the blanket as he wrapped his arms around her.

“And why is that?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she belonged here; perhaps this was where she was meant to be. The thought made her feel secure…and drowsy.

“You and I were lost children right from the start—but in this world, most children are. That’s why I needed someone to tell me they loved me, even just once.”

“That makes sense.”

Even if fate had stolen everything from them—even if the words and memories disappeared—children who knew love would one day find happiness again. What Momoka left behind for them had helped lead them to this conclusion.

“That’s why we were left behind.”

“Classic Tabuki-kun.” She smiled quietly. “I really love you.”

“I love you, too.” And everything you’ve ever loved, he added silently.

Neither of them had lived perfect, pristine lives, but their fates were deeply entwined, bringing them together in the end. Yuri’s loose curls swayed as she reached out from under the blanket, searching for his hand. She found it near his stomach and grasped it firmly.

“Yuri, you’re freezing,” Tabuki murmured on reflex, concerned.

“No, you’re just burning up,” she shot back, pouting.

With a wry smile, Tabuki decided to make a cup of tea for his cold-sensitive wife. It was nothing fancy, but it was warm.

 

Setting aside the hospital’s carefully regulated air conditioning, I was pretty sure everything was colder before I suffered that bizarre accident. Right now, however, the sky above the courtyard was clear and blue, like someone painted it with a single stroke of their paintbrush; every time the wind rustled the branches on the cherry blossom trees, more petals rained down onto my lap.

The doctor was worried I suffered some sort of memory loss, so they ran a bunch of tests, but ultimately couldn’t find any problems. But it wasn’t just me—neither my aunt nor my uncle could tell me why I had gone to Ikebukuro Station in the first place.

“Himari-chan!”

I could see Ringo-chan racing over to me in her blue polka-dot pajamas, reminiscent of soap bubbles. Smiling, I adjusted the hem of my peach-pink nightgown. Over the past three days since we first arrived at this hospital, the two of us became fast friends. She was an outgoing girl slightly older than me whose biggest talent was making curry.

“Hi, Ringo-chan. How’d it go?” I asked casually. Neither of us was worried about the results of our tests.

“Zilch. I’m as fit as a fiddle, they said!”

She struck a victory pose, and I giggled. Other than the cut on my forehead and the light burn on her back, there were no clues explaining how we had passed out.

“Were you admiring the cherry blossoms?” she asked as she sat down next to me.

“Yup.”

Silence fell between us for a moment.

“Will you teach me how to knit? Although I guess it’s getting a little too warm to be wearing scarves anyhow.” She reached out and scooped up a fallen petal.

“I don’t mind. As long as you teach me how to make a good curry.”

There was a lot we still didn’t know about each other, but we didn’t mind at all. In fact, we suspected that perhaps fate had brought us together at Ikebukuro.

“I’m gonna need to pack up soon. My aunt and uncle are coming to get me,” I murmured absently.

“Me, too. My mom said she’s gonna leave work early to pick me up.”

We both had our own separate lives to get back to, but somehow it felt so natural, watching TV and flipping through magazines together. It was strange to think I’d be going back to a life without her—and I was sure she felt the same way—but I didn’t know how to convey it in words. On a whim, I reached up and touched the wound on my forehead. Under the big adhesive bandage was a series of sutures that were scheduled to be removed in a few days’ time.

“The flowers are really pretty.”

Unwilling to get up just yet, I turned my attention back to the trees.

“Yeah.”

The petals were starting to pile up in her lap, too.

 

Natsume Masako sat on a bench in the gazebo out behind the mansion, and believe it or not, she was dozing off. The lukewarm breeze was caressing her curls, and the book she was holding was threatening to slip right out of her hands. Each time her head slumped, she lost track of whether the gentle touch she felt was reality or a dream.

“Oneesama?” Her younger brother Mario, who was playing in the yard, came over and peered at her. “You can’t sleep out here or you’ll get sick.”

Masako snapped back to her senses and stared intently at the boy in front of her. He was smiling slightly, and his palms were covered in mud.

“Oh…y-yes, you’re right.” Adjusting her curls with one hand, she straightened her posture. Spring came swiftly this year, and it was already too warm for a coat.

“Mario-san, are you feeling all right?”

“Huh? What are you talking about, Oneesama?” He tilted his head.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. Goodness, my mind must be playing tricks on me. Must have been that dream I had.” She looked at the cherry blossom petals piled at her feet.

“What kind of dream?” Mario asked, toying with his muddy hands.

“A very strange dream indeed. It was freezing cold, and our older brother was there,” she laughed, amused at the absurdity of her statement.

“What older brother?”

“My twin.”

“Hmmm… So he was just like you?” Mario asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No, not at all. He was a clumsy, clueless person. He would always put himself on the back burner, and he would never outright ask for the attention he so craved. But deep down, he always remembered the words that mattered most.”

The top of her head felt vaguely warm, right in the spot where his hand had touched her during the dream.

“But at the very least, he told me he loved and cherished me as his one and only sister.”

“Are you crying, Oneesama?” Hastily, Mario reached into the pocket of his corduroy shorts and pulled out a handkerchief…instantly soiling it with his muddy fingers. “Oh…sorry…”

“That’s all right. I wonder what’s gotten into me…” Masako wiped her tears away with her fingers and let out a heavy sigh. “Now go wash your hands. It’s time for our afternoon tea.”

“Okay!” he answered cheerfully, then raced off into the house.

Filled with the strangest feeling of contentment, Masako felt as though she was blessed with all the world’s compassion.

In terms of personality, he was nothing like her, but they both shared the same sharp eyes. That said, she didn’t actually have a twin brother at all—so why would she dream about one? Evidently it was something her subconscious needed.

Today, she would brew a pot of Nuwara Eliya to celebrate the fresh green of spring. Then, while they ate Mario’s favorite cookies, she would tell him a bit more about the older brother from her dream. And as she spoke, she would stroke his hair…just as her “brother” had done for her.

 

I lived in an old one-story house in a fairly safe part of Ogikubo. The most striking thing about it was its rusty metal siding; my uncle claimed he was thinking about replacing it, but that was years ago by this point. Besides, I enjoyed the sound of the rain pattering against it whenever there was a storm, so I wasn’t in any huge rush to have it renovated. It was unique, and it held up well, even after its protective coating was worn away.

My room was slightly cramped, with a small study desk and a wardrobe for my clothes. Next to the desk was an old bookshelf full of novels and manga, some of them mine, some of them my uncle’s. There were cushions on the floor, plus some stuffed animals, a CD player and a handful of CDs, yarn balls, buttons and ribbons, thimbles, spools of thread, and a pincushion of needles…oh, and my fashion magazines.

I put all my sewing equipment back into its little pink basket, then pulled off my navy blue uniform jacket. With one hand reaching for the buttons of my blouse, I opened the wardrobe.

My dinner was already on the stove; I just needed to give it a few minutes to simmer. “Now then,” I muttered as I returned to the kitchen and pulled my apron back on over my loungewear: a pale purple-checkered dress featuring a smocked chest panel, puffy sleeves, and a balloon skirt.

I peered into the pot.

“We mustn’t rush, my dear. At such a high temperature, why, you might get burned!” I said in a theatrical voice, cackling evilly. “Wicked girl. You brought this upon yourself, I’m afraid.”

Rolling up my long sleeves, I stirred the thickly bubbling curry with a ladle. Then I scooped some up for a taste test. This was the Oginome family recipe, taught to me by none other than Ringo-chan herself.

“Yes, it’s perfect!”

I set my ladle down on the cooktop and put the lid on the pot. Now I just needed to wait until Ringo-chan arrived. Then, as I was cleaning the coffee table, the phone rang.

“Hello? Uncle Ikebe? Oh, you’ll be home late? Both of you? Sure, that’s fine. I’m having a friend over for lunch, so I made curry. You guys can have some later tonight when you get back.” Next to the phone was a framed photograph of me with my aunt and uncle, taken on the first day of school. “Yeah, Ringo-chan, the girl from the hospital. Don’t worry, she’ll keep me company.”

As I set the receiver back down, I let out a sigh. After I finished cleaning the table, I was out of things to do.

In this house, the living room was brimming with things I collected: toys hanging from the light cords, stickers on the tissue box cover, embroidery on the red curtains that I periodically added to over the years, merch from my beloved Double H, and some awards I got as a child. My aunt and uncle weren’t actually biologically related to me, but I was living with them for as long as I could remember. They were a childless couple, and they treated me with as much love and care as their confectionery. Thus, I had never tried to track down my real parents. All I knew was that something serious had happened to them, but they weren’t bad people; I was their only child, and they loved me. That was everything there was to know about me.

Quietly, I decided to break out the confectionery once Ringo-chan arrived. Then the sound of the doorbell brought me back to my senses, and I rose to my feet.

“Coming!”

 

Ringo-chan took a big whiff of the rising steam and smiled brightly. The table was decked out with two plates of curry, two simple side salads, and two cups of tea.

“Mmmm, looks good!” she exclaimed. She stopped by on her way home from school, so she was wearing her uniform.

We pressed our hands together to say grace. Then I watched carefully as she took her first bite.

“How is it?”

“It’s good! Your cooking skills have really leveled up, Himari-chan!”

Today was the 20th of the month, which Ringo-chan traditionally designated “Curry Day.” I didn’t know why. Maybe she would tell me someday, or maybe she wouldn’t; I didn’t mind either way.

It felt like fate had brought the two of us together. First we passed out at the same subway station, then we were taken to the same hospital, and then we made friends so quickly, you’d think we’d met before. If anything had the right to be called fate, it was this.

“All thanks to your awesome recipe, Ringo-chan.” Relieved, I took a bite myself.

“Isn’t it great?! The grated apple really adds something!” she exclaimed, thrusting her chest out proudly.

“Oh, I just remembered—Double H is on TV today!” With a grin, I switched on the television.

“Right, yeah. Gosh, they’re so cute!”

We watched as the duo in question popped onscreen and started to sing. The two of us were both Double H superfans, and we liked to collect all their albums and merch—cartoony key chains, little plushies, calendars, and pins.

“Ooh, it’s their new single,” Ringo-chan murmured. She was more of a Hikari-chan fan, if she had to choose.

“Wanna listen to their new album? I’ll go get it,” I told her as I rose to my feet. If I had to pick, I was more of a Hibari-chan gal.

I walked into my room, over to the corner with the plushies and sewing tools, and crouched down. My CDs weren’t on the bookshelf; I kept them in a flower-print shoebox.

“Wait, where are they?”

I looked around for the box. It occurred to me I might have left it on my desk, so I started to straighten up…but then I spotted my pink teddy bear. He was dressed up like a pirate, complete with bandana and eyepatch, and I had cherished him since I was a kid.

“Oh, his tummy stitching is coming loose…”

Tempted to fix it, I reached out and grabbed him. Then, as I sat him on my lap, I saw something else poking out through the seam—something that looked like a scrap of paper. Gently, I pinched it between my fingers and pulled it out. Sure enough, it was an old, yellowed piece of paper; I unfolded it to find the clumsy writing of a child.

To Himari: We’ll always love you. Love, your big brothers.

“Big brothers?”

Who could that be? It felt like a vise clamped down on my heart. I had no recollection of any brothers.

“Himari-chan?” a voice called from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find Ringo-chan standing there, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at this.” The next thing I knew, I was crying, but I couldn’t explain why. Instead, I looked back down at the little note in my hand. “This is so bizarre… What’s gotten into me…?”

“What’s going on? Himari-chan, are you okay?” Ringo-chan rushed over to me, crouched down beside me, and pulled me into a hug.

“I don’t get it…” Tears kept rolling down my face, and I started to sob. “Why am I crying…?”

“It’s all right. I’m right here with you,” she told me reassuringly, like a big sister.

“Yeah, I know… I’m sorry, Ringo-chan.” Confused, I buried my face in her shoulder.

“It’s okay.” She stroked my hair softly, over and over. “We’ll always be together.”

Naturally, this made me cry even harder.

I really appreciated my life with my aunt and uncle, and I appreciated that Ringo-chan was a part of it. I was happy being a fan of Double H, and getting better at making curry. And I loved my pink teddy bear and the mystery note that was hiding inside him. I loved the word “fate,” and I believed from the bottom of my heart that I would never have to be alone.

 

Two young boys walked down the street, admiring the falling cherry blossom petals.

“No, see, the apple represents the whole universe, sitting right in the palm of your hand. It’s the bridge between our world and the other world,” said the first boy, a hint of exasperation in his voice, shielding his sharp eyes from the rays of sunlight streaming down through the branches of the cherry blossom trees.

“What other world?” asked the second, tilting his head as he plucked the petals off of his messy, wavy hair.

“The one Giovanni and Campanella and all the other passengers are going to,” the first replied matter-of-factly, looking back at him.

“Okay, but where is it?” the second boy demanded, looking over his shoulder. Two chubby male penguins with round button eyes waddled after them.

“It’s the place where all life comes from. And Campanella’s mom is there, too.”

The two penguins turned around and beckoned behind them to two more penguins, who rushed out from between the cherry blossom trees to join up with the rest of the group. The third penguin had sparkly eyes and was wearing a ribbon on its head; the fourth looked at the third with aloof, upturned eyes, then took her by the flipper and started waddling.

“But what does that have to do with apples?” asked the messy-haired boy, smiling at the third penguin.

“The apples are a gift from God,” the other boy declared smugly.

The messy-haired boy scowled. “That makes no sense.”

“In other words, they’re a reward for the passengers who chose to die for love.”

“But that’s pointless. Once you die, your life is over.”

“No it’s not, dumbo. It’s just the beginning. That’s what Kenji’s trying to say.”

Just then, a strong wind blew past, and an avalanche of cherry blossom petals cascaded down upon the group.

“So where do we go from here?” the messy-haired boy asked, stopping to dust the petals from his hair with both hands.

“I dunno. Where do you wanna go? This is where it starts.”

The other boy looked at the penguins following them and smirked. At some point the procession had grown, and now four petal-covered birds trailed them, all in a row.

There will be no more getting angry, or getting sad, or standing still. The two children will surely surpass time and space to revel in the freedom of joy and despair. They can go anywhere they want to go, or see anyone they want to see; they can celebrate their perpetual motion by singing at the top of their lungs. Supposing they did, the penguins would surely join in, their shrill little voices like that of four steam whistles.

Eventually the pale pink petals will become countless shining stars. Together with the big, bright moon, they will shine down gently upon everything worthy of love. The girl’s tears will dry, and she’ll fall fast asleep in a warm bed.

Rest assured, there’s nothing to cry about. This journey will take us into the night sky, which means it will surely be a good one. And even if something bad does happen, we’ll put our heads together and find a solution. That’s what knowledge and language is for—to help us find happiness. At least, that’s what we have to believe.

So what’s the difference between life and the endless bounds of space? The fact that we existed lies within the never-ending cycle of life and death, fated never to disappear for almost eternity. See there, in that child’s heart? Those memories will bear fruit and grant the power to imagine a new universe. Really, there’s nothing to cry about. This is probably what love is.

Don’t be afraid. Don’t lose faith. Just look right into that person’s eyes and tell them you love them, again and again, as many times as it takes to reach them.

 

THE END