Page 26 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop

FOUR

‘Beneath the light of the atmosphere in April.’

Kozue Tonami suddenly found herself standing in front of the shop.

A weeping cherry tree shaped like a bell stood before her. But is it really a cherry tree? she had to wonder. It didn’t look artificial by any means, but something about it struck her as different from the plants she was used to seeing.

Now in peak bloom, the tree was adorned with flowers in every imaginable shade of red and white.

The colours seemed to transition gently from one hue to the next, beginning in pale white at the top and deepening into vivid reds as her gaze travelled downwards.

At eye level, the blossoms were painted in a rich scarlet reminiscent of a camellia flower.

As the branches stirred in the breeze, the colours twisted and marbled into a wondrous pattern too magnificent for words.

Overwhelmed by its beauty, Kozue almost forgot to breathe.

She was certain that she had never seen anything like it before, not in a photo or a video, let alone with her own eyes.

But if so, where in the world am I?

And what am I doing here?

She nearly laughed at her own thoughts, realising that they sounded like something an amnesiac character might say in some sort of story.

But she couldn’t help it – everything had happened so abruptly.

The only thing she could recall was her own name.

Although, the fact that she remembered that much gave her a small sense of relief.

She didn’t know anything more than that, except that she had come to a place that she didn’t recognise.

She had no recollection of what she was doing before this.

It was as though she had been thrown into another world.

Maybe she was asleep and had suddenly entered an impossibly realistic dream, she thought.

Still, little by little, Kozue regained her senses.

She felt a similar sensation to that of waking up in the morning as her mind began to clear.

It wasn’t that she had completely lost her memory, she realised.

But rather, she was in a state of confusion because she seemed to have forgotten how to retrieve her memories.

Glancing down, she saw that she was dressed in her junior-high-school uniform – a dull blazer in a drab shade of grey. She’d hated it ever since she first laid eyes on it. Strangely, it felt like it had been a long time since she last wore it.

Taking another good look at her surroundings, she noticed a building behind the weeping cherry tree.

It was a wooden structure that resembled a traditional Japanese house.

A bronze weathercock was perched on the ridge of the roof, puffing out its chest as it quietly announced which way the wind was blowing.

She turned her gaze down again. From where she stood, there was a pathway leading to the entrance of the building.

The path was completely blanketed in colourful cherry-blossom petals.

A sign stood outside the building, suggesting that it was some kind of shop.

She squinted as she tried to make out the letters on the sign.

It was at this moment that the door swung open, and a girl emerged holding a broom and a dustpan.

She was wearing a burgundy pinafore dress and a white blouse.

An odd sensation washed through Kozue. At first, she thought that a mirror had suddenly appeared before her.

It was a similar feeling to when she looked at the reflection of herself in the mornings as she fixed her hair by the bathroom sink.

Her intuition told her that the person standing in front of her was someone she knew.

At the same time, she was just as certain that the person was not Kozue herself. Judging from her appearance, she was a bit older than a junior-high-school student. She also recognised her outfit. Where did I see it…?

‘Oh—’

But it was the girl who spoke first. After taking her time to examine Kozue from head to toe, she broke into a beaming smile.

‘Oh, I’m so happy. You’re here at last.’

Letting go of her broom and dustpan on the spot, the girl scurried over to Kozue, kicking up the cherry-blossom petals as she went.

Stretching both arms forward, she took Kozue’s hands in hers and shook them up and down enthusiastically.

Now that Kozue was looking at her up close, she could clearly see how much they resembled each other.

‘I’ve been waiting for you. For a long, long time. Nothing can start unless you come here, you know.’

‘Huh? What are you?—’

Kozue finally managed to speak. Thankfully, her throat seemed to function properly in this world, too. And the voice that echoed through her ears sounded so similar to her own that, for a second, she couldn’t tell who’d spoken.

‘I was getting quite tired of waiting for you, to be honest. Hey, Kobako, you too, right?’

Kozue flinched when she heard the name ‘Kobako’.

In the meantime, the girl nonchalantly turned around, facing the entrance of the shop.

Then, through the door that had been left open, a single cat sauntered into view.

It was a calico cat with unusually long fur.

As soon as it acknowledged Kozue, the cat walked right up to her and began rubbing its head just below her knees.

Maybe because the cat was on the large side, it was surprisingly strong.

Kozue had to plant her feet to keep her balance as it pressed against her.

She had assumed from the very beginning that this was all a dream.

Although, everything – the girl’s voice, the warmth of the cat – felt so real, it was almost enigmatic.

And even if this were a dream, she had to admit that her mood had lifted from being welcomed so wholeheartedly.

Still, a part of her wondered if she was really inside a dream.

It was just then that she finally managed to read the letters on the sign. The name handwritten in red and white chalk on the greenboard was ‘Sakura’. I knew it, she thought. But what she ‘knew’ wasn’t immediately clear to her.

Sakura was the name of someone who had almost faded from Kozue’s memory – her mother.

Her mother went missing when Kozue was five years old.

It wasn’t a memory of her own, of course.

It was something she had learned through her ears – through listening to stories that others had told her.

She was so young at the time, Kozue had no recollection of how she’d felt when the person she loved was suddenly taken away from her.

Since Kozue had lost her mother, just as she was beginning to become aware of the world, the way she imagined her was shaped by the photograph in her father’s study.

In the photo, her mother was wearing a white blouse and a burgundy pinafore dress.

A large calico cat was held in her arms. The cat looked rather unimpressed, probably because it had been picked up against its will.

But even so, she could tell that the cat had relaxed its legs, completely entrusting itself to Kozue’s mother.

The cat originally belonged to her mother and was named Kōbako.

This was also something Kozue had heard rather than remembered.

Apparently, her mother simply called her ‘Kobako’ without the elongated ‘kō’.

According to her father, this Kobako acted like Kozue’s big sister ever since she was born.

Sometimes they even asked the cat to keep an eye on her, and Kobako would move to a spot where she could overlook the crib and settle into a loaf pose.

She would stay in that position until she was asked to do something else.

Another photo that Kozue was familiar with was the one of her mother holding her as a newborn. She often wished that she could remember when and where the picture was taken, even though she knew that it was unreasonable to expect such a thing from a baby.

When she looked at herself in the photo, her face all scrunched up and her neck still wobbly, she couldn’t tell which of her features resembled her mother or her father.

But by the time she entered junior high school, her relatives had begun telling her that she looked just like her mother.

Whenever she received such remarks, her father would wear an expression on his face that was neither happiness nor sadness.

Kozue didn’t really know her mother’s voice, either. What she did know was that she’d loved books, just like her father. She’d also loved cats, of course, and Ravel’s Boléro . And, given the origin of her name, perhaps it was only natural that she had a deep fondness for cherry blossoms.

Whenever the time felt right, her father would share such stories with Kozue.

It seemed to be a sign that, though slowly, her father was starting to regain his footing – at least enough to tell Kozue about her mother.

Still, some part of him must have been suppressing his grief for the sake of his growing daughter.

Because she knew that her father was trying his best to keep his emotions under wraps, Kozue pretended not to notice. And so, even upon hearing about her father’s darkest days from the other adults around her, she could not fully grasp what he had gone through.

Beyond the sign, the door to the shop hung open.

Kozue caught the scent of coffee drifting out, along with the sound of a familiar tune.

Its distinct melody was bold but not overwhelmingly so – she might have called it majestic, but that wasn’t quite the right word.

What she knew for certain was that it was Boléro by Ravel.

The piece her mother loved, according to the stories she’d heard.

Ever since learning this, Kozue had listened to it countless times.

‘Come on, let’s go inside. I need you to take a good look around the shop. Let me make you some coffee – it’s on the house. We’ve got lots of books, too.’