Page 29 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop

Taking in the girl’s words, Kozue nodded deeply. It felt like something she ought to do. The girl’s expression softened with relief.

‘Although, admittedly, it’s Kobako who chooses the book.

Once the book has been selected, I find a passage that catches my eye and read it out loud.

And at the same time, someone in your world opens the book and reads the same passage.

When that happens, the door opens. As the old saying goes, a book is “a door to another, unknown world”. ’

Now, it was Kozue’s turn to tilt her head in wonder.

‘So, after Dad’s book is published … if I go and read a book, and if you happen to open the same book at the same time, will I be able to come back here again?’

‘That I don’t know. I’m afraid that’s something even I can’t say for sure. Miracles are capricious things.’

The girl shot a glance at the cat.

‘You, Kobako, must be the one holding the key to that. Right?’

But the cat ignored her and turned its head away. The girl gave a sigh.

‘To be honest, I still don’t understand what she is. But if, in the future, you find yourself in need of a miracle, and if you happen to open the same book at the same time as me, then perhaps the door will open again. Kobako will make sure of it, I think.’

The girl narrowed her eyes, this time even further.

‘But you must know this by now – humans have the power to create miracles. What happened with Kenji Miyazawa’s posthumous works is a perfect example of that.

His words could have ended up in storage or inside the liner pocket of an old trunk, forgotten, and withered away.

That thought alone is enough to send a chill down my spine.

Had this happened, then it would be no exaggeration to say that the world that we know today could have been a very different place.

Some of the most famous films might have never been created, and your father might have never become a writer.

And if that were the case, you might not have been born. ’

Could she be right? Maybe she is. Maybe, a long time ago, before I even existed, Kenji’s words brought my father and mother together.

Perhaps not in a direct way, but it’s definitely possible that his words somehow played a role in it.

Come to think of it, I haven’t heard the story of how they met yet.

I hope that Dad will tell me some day. Only when he’s ready, of course. I hope that day will come.

‘That you’re alive right now – that in itself is a miracle.’

Such words suddenly formed inside Kozue’s mind.

At first, she thought that the girl had said them, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Shifting her gaze, she locked eyes with the cat.

At that moment, she felt a sense of familiarity, like the same thing had happened a long time ago.

As she lay in her crib, the same round eyes had looked upon her, speaking to her softly.

As Kozue stared intently at her, the cat seemed to give a faint nod.

But perhaps Kozue was imagining it. The cat, still sitting in a loaf pose, gave a small yawn.

‘Right then. It’s about time that we got some work done.’

With that, the girl sprang to her feet. As though it’d been waiting for those words, the cat also sat up on the table.

But the two beings of the mysterious shop seemed to be frozen to the spot as they both stared at Kozue.

It was almost as though they were trying to imprint an image of themselves on her.

When the girl finally began to move, she approached Kozue and gently caressed her cheek.

‘Listen, I know what I said earlier, but I do want to see you again. So don’t forget. Now, Kobako, it’s time for us to get to work.’

‘Sorry, work?’ Kozue found herself asking. For some reason, the girl was wearing a proud look on her face.

‘Yep. Peddling miracles. We have a good collection of books, and we serve coffee, but this is our primary business. Oh, some people might think that there’s no such thing as a peddler with a shop.

But, well, it can’t be helped – it can only be done in this place, and it can’t be done without my cat.

‘You might feel a little dizzy-ish, but there’s no need to worry – you’ll be fine.’

As the girl finished speaking, Kobako gave a slightly drawn-out meow.

Then, all of a sudden, Kozue felt like someone had thrust their hand between her lungs and her stomach and was twisting her insides.

What is this? Kozue thought. I’m not fine!

Wanting to protest, she looked around, searching for the girl.

In that instant, someone held her hand. As warmth seeped into her, Kozue began to feel soothed. She thought she heard a voice in her ear – it sounded slightly more mature than the girl’s. The voice seemed to whisper, Take care of your father for me .

But Kozue’s view had completely distorted. The shop, the girl and the cat were nowhere to be seen. The world before her had marbled like swirls of colourful clay, reminding her of the scene created by the weeping cherry tree.

* * *

The next moment, Kozue realized that she was in her father’s study.

Her father’s eyes were fixed on his writing desk, but not at the blank sheet of manuscript paper sitting in front of him.

His gaze seemed to be directed at the unmoving figures inside the photo frame behind it.

As evidence of this, his hand was completely still.

As she stood behind her father, Kozue could smell the pleasant scent of his hair. Just then, his shoulders flinched. He must have been startled by Kozue’s presence.

‘Kozue, what are you doing? How long have you been there?’

‘Well, I – I think I might have been reading Spring and Asura with you.’

A look of puzzlement crossed her father’s face.

Kozue had to think quickly. Did I suddenly appear here?

Maybe I’ve just been thrown back here, like the way I found myself in front of that shop .

But if that were the case, there was no logical way of explaining it.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned up the resolve to tell him everything she remembered.

‘Umm, Dad, I think I … I just saw Mum.’

This time, her father turned his chair around to face her.

His expression had stiffened, his eyes unusually stern.

But Kozue kept her composure as she told him about the place she’d just come back from, and its residents.

With the memory still fresh in her mind, she was able to speak fluently, so much so that it made her wonder if the girl herself was speaking through her lips.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she and I were connected in that way, Kozue thought.

Kozue also remembered to mention the conditions that needed to be met for the two worlds to be connected: read the same passage from the same book as the girl, at the exact same time on the same day in the same season. On a sunny day in spring, beneath the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

Her father listened until she finished speaking without ever interrupting.

Then, he simply said, ‘I see.’ For a while, he sat with his arms folded, thinking to himself.

Eventually, he pulled a sheet of manuscript paper from his drawer and handed it to Kozue.

Could you have a read of this? he asked.

There were a few lines of handwritten text on the sheet.

The shop was tucked away in a place beyond anyone’s understanding.

In front of it stood a mysterious, weeping cherry tree.

The tree was bursting with blossoms in every imaginable shade of red and white.

When a gust of wind swept through the flowers in full bloom, they blended together then parted again, at times creating a swirl of colours…

Having finished reading, Kozue looked up to find her father smiling awkwardly.

‘Is that the scene you saw, then?’

Kozue nodded at her father. He let out a heavy sigh. She had never heard him sigh so deeply.

‘I wrote this a few years ago, but I haven’t touched it since.

The idea of the story came from something Sakura – your mother – and I used to talk about when we were young.

Just a silly dream, really. From time to time, we fantasised about running a shop like that.

We’d have a collection of the books we loved, and she mentioned serving coffee, too. ’

Her father quietly shook his head sorrowfully. It pained Kozue to see him like this.

‘The other thing she said was that there absolutely needs to be a cherry tree in front of the shop. Recently, I’ve finally been able to quietly recall these memories.

Probably because enough time has passed.

And so, I thought I’d try and preserve your mum’s dream in the only way I know how.

But once I’d written that much, I couldn’t keep going.

Something was telling me that I shouldn’t do this. ’

What he really meant, Kozue imagined, was that continuing to write the story would mean accepting the death of his wife. Although he knew this, he probably didn’t want to admit it and say it out loud.

Unless things changed, though, he would never be able to move forward. Besides, if he doesn’t complete the story, neither the girl, the cat nor the shop will be able to exist. That is, if what the girl had said was true. But somehow, Kozue felt that she could believe her.

I have to do something about it, then. That girl … Mum , who lives inside of her, trusted me to do this.

With firm resolve, Kozue said to her father, ‘Hey, Dad. I’d love to know what happens after this. You probably haven’t noticed, but I’ve read quite a few of your books. I’m kind of a fan. Besides?—’

Unsure whether she should continue, Kozue halted for a moment.

But she went ahead and said, ‘I’m sure that Mum and her cat Kobako are waiting. I think they’ve been waiting a long time for that shop.’