Page 17 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop

He turned around to find the girl standing with her hands clasped behind her. Shingo nodded silently.

‘In that case, I believe it is time for you to return to your rightful place. Of course, I will not be accepting a payment. It was us, or rather the capricious Kobako, who chose you and invited you here. Besides, it was the book that opened up the passage and connected us. Let’s just say that we were brought together by a series of coincidences . ’

The girl bowed reverently to Shingo.

‘The shop is called Sakura. I would be happy if you remembered it sometime. Although?—’

The girl brought both of her hands up to her face, pressing her fingertips together. There was a touch of gravity in her eyes.

‘It’s absolutely fine if you don’t. And, Mr Kikukawa – saying this makes me feel a bit presumptuous, but there’s no need for you to be so afraid of forgetting.

Once created, memories and words will never be erased.

Even if you forget yourself completely, that will never mean that you did not exist. You see, when a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, it will still make a sound. ’

At last, her smile returned to her lips as she said, ‘It’s still chilly in the mornings and evenings. Please look after yourself and take care not to catch a cold.’

From somewhere far away, he thought he heard the soft flop of a book closing.

* * *

Shingo had returned to the wheelchair by the Kawazu cherry tree.

The book laid open on his lap, and his fingertip was almost exactly at the same spot where he had been tracing the words.

For a moment, he sat there in shock, then, hastily looked around him.

But that building and the mysterious weeping cherry tree seemed to have completely disappeared.

Have I been asleep? he wondered, although it didn’t feel at all like he had been. Cocking his head to one side, he noticed something draped over his shoulders. It was what looked like a woman’s shawl. Judging by the sunlight, the day was already close to evening. A chilly breeze had picked up.

‘Grandpa, you’re awake.’

A voice came from behind him. Then, he saw his granddaughter peering over his shoulder.

‘Hello there, Mai. Sorry, I seemed to have dozed off.’

Mai looked momentarily surprised before breaking into a bright smile.

‘You recognise me?’

‘Well, I suppose so.’

Indeed, compared to how he’d felt before he found himself in that shop, his mind was much clearer.

He felt sure that he could retrieve the memories he wanted to hold on to.

And Mai – she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

Her limbs had grown so long, and she was much taller than him now.

It’s all coming back to me, he thought. I know exactly who she is.

But deep inside, he also had a feeling that this clarity wouldn’t last long. I’m sure my memory will start to fade again, he thought to himself. Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel anxious.

‘Hmm. It feels like we haven’t seen each other for a very long time, but I’m guessing that’s not the case.’

‘You’re right. I say hello to you pretty much every day. We see each other two or three times a day in the canteen. Although, usually, the most I get from you is a polite nod. If not, you just ignore me and look the other way.’

‘Is that so? I’m sorry about that.’

‘No need to apologise.’

His granddaughter smiled warmly. The contagious smile that brightened up everyone around her.

‘Where is Sanae?’ Shingo asked.

‘Mum had to leave to get to her next appointment,’ Mai told him.

‘Guess what? I just saw your grandma.’

‘“A hundred years had passed”, eh?’ Mai joked, eyeing the book on Shingo’s lap.

‘I already did all of that with Yuriko.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, forget it.’

Squinting, Shingo moved his eyes to the Kawazu cherry blossoms.

‘Anyway, Mai, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you? No, I should say that you’ve become a truly admirable woman.’

After hesitating for a moment, Shingo turned to his granddaughter and spoke the words that came to his mind.

‘The way you’re always smiling – it’s not an easy thing to do, you know. You do it for me and the other old folks, don’t you? You keep smiling, so that you can brighten up our moods. You’re really something. I couldn’t do it myself.’

‘Well, I’m only doing what Grandma used to do.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Maybe you never noticed it because you only ever thought about work, even when you were at home. To arrive at your shift on time, you had to go to bed before a certain time, get up at a certain time and spend however many minutes on brushing your teeth. You would go on and on about this stuff. To tell you the truth, Grandma would sometimes complain, saying how obsessed you were with being on schedule. That you had a timetable not only for the trains you drove, but for yourself. She would of course be smiling as she spoke, though.’

His granddaughter’s carefree smile reminded him of his wife. Again, his words came flowing from his lips.

‘Mai, there’s a place I’d like to visit. Will you take me there while the cherry blossoms are still in bloom? I’d like Sanae to come, too.’

‘Sure. Let me guess – it’s a station in the mountains, isn’t it? Along the line you used to drive your train, where the beautiful Yamazakura trees are.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Well, I’m your granddaughter.’

Mai averted her eyes.

‘Actually, before Grandma passed away, when I went to see her in hospital, she mentioned to me that she never got to go. Although she was smiling, I couldn’t help but notice the sadness in her eyes. So I decided to look it up.

‘I found out that after the train line closed, the station became quite difficult to access,’ Mai continued, a smile reappearing on her lips.

‘I think it was around that time that Grandma had wanted to visit. That railway is still disused, but the tracks on either side of the former station have now been turned into a footpath. You remember that the Yamazakura trees became famous at one point, right? Apparently, they’ve made a comeback and the place has been revived.

It’s become one of those Insta-worthy “secluded” stations – hikyō stations – as enthusiasts call them. ’

Right, so it’s my turn to fulfil a promise. Yuriko had come to me so that we could have our dance, after all.

‘We can take my car there on my next day off. I’ll also submit a request for the outing.’

Shingo smiled quietly at Mai’s cheerful voice.

* * *

A few days later, the four of them – Mai and her husband, who took turns driving, Shingo and Sanae – set out for a day trip.

Just as Mai had said, the area around the station had been transformed into a modern tourist spot with a newly built park, as well as stylish cafés and restaurants.

The station building had been turned into a coffee shop, with seating set up where the platform usedto be.

It was the perfect spot for admiring the Yamazakura trees.

Girls even younger than Mai were taking turns snapping photos of themselves on their phones.

Shingo’s memory seemed to improve after his visit to that strange shop, but as the days passed, it gradually slipped back to the way it was before.

More and more often, he stood at the serving counter without recognising Mai, only remembering her after he’d sat down.

There were probably instances when he tucked into his meal, completely unaware that he’d overlooked his own granddaughter.

Even so, for some reason, the sense of urgency that used to trouble him did not come.

Although only for a short while, they strolled along the footpath, with Mai and her husband taking turns pushing his wheelchair.

The place where railway sleepers had once been laid was now paved with flexible asphalt.

The path, which was just wide enough to fit a train carriage, didn’t feel so narrow, but that was only until they were faced with the task of passing another wheelchair .

This required a certain level of consideration for each other, but such moments were when Mai was in her element.

She spoke in such a cheerful, carefree way that even the grumpy-looking occupant of the other wheelchair smiled wryly at her.

Still, when Shingo took in the sight of the tall grass and overgrown thickets just past the paved footpath, a deep hopelessness filled his chest. There wasn’t even the faintest chance that a train would ever pass through here again.

That thought struck him with the inescapable truth that an era had come to an end.

Had his former colleagues looked upon the same scenery? If so, what emotions did they feel?

The path also allowed access to the opposite platform, just beneath the Yamazakura trees.

Mai, working together with her husband, pushed his wheelchair up the gentle slope.

When they reached the top, he found that this side, too, had been completely renovated.

Falling cherry blossom petals fluttered in the air like snowflakes.

‘A hundred years had passed,’ Shingo found himself saying, his lips moving on their own.

He no longer understood why he had recalled those words now. In fact, he couldn’t remember where the line originated.

‘There’s no need for you to be so afraid of forgetting.’

Who was it that had said those kind words to him? Only the image of a burgundy hue had been imprinted onto his mind. He also faintly remembered there being a cat, one that looked like a big ball of fluff.

It seemed that the other three had not heard Shingo, as they were too immersed in the excitement of the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

White petals whirled like confetti. As he watched on, suddenly, Mai widened her eyes.

Delightedly taking her husband’s hand, she placed it over her stomach.

Sanae brought her hands together in a soundless applause.

Yuriko, my dear. Our beloved daughter and her little one have grown up so wonderfully, haven’t they?

It was at that moment. The breeze that brushed his ears turned into words.

We’re here together at last.

From somewhere, a soft, soundless voice seeped into Shingo’s heart, warmth gently spreading through him. Right, we’re still together, aren’t we? Slowly, he surrendered himself to the weight of his eyelids.

‘Grandpa? Are you asleep?’ he heard his granddaughter say as he breathed out softly.

‘Looks like he’s having a nice dream. He’s smiling.’

That voice came from his daughter.

‘He is, isn’t he? I can’t remember the last time he smiled like this.’

Their voices were drifting away, slipping farther into the distance. Not wanting to let go, Shingo somehow parted his eyelids. Across the narrow haze of his vision, a single white petal fluttered from left to right, disappearing into nowhere.