Page 13 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop
Her finger hovered just in front of the bookshelf whereThe Little Princesat. She moved her finger across, gliding from top to bottom, transitioning from one shelf to the next. From time to time, a book would catch her attention, and she would pause momentarily, casting a hopeful glance at her companion. But Kobako the calico cat wasn’t so easily satisfied.
The ritual eventually progressed to the large-format books held between bookends on the four-seater table. Just when the girl’s fingertip was about to move past a certain book, the cat gave a sharp meow. Though the book was large in dimension, it wasn’t particularly thick.
The girl turned around to find the cat sitting up, its gleaming eyes wide open. A satisfied grin rose to the girl’s lips.
‘Right. Is this is going to be our next read, then? I like this one, too.’
Pulling the book off the shelf, the girl held it out with both her hands, then drew it towards her face. The cover readTen Nights of Dreams. It was also marked with the words ‘Large Print’. Switching the book to one hand, the girl let out her usualahembefore opening it in a reverent manner.
‘“The sun will rise, and the sun will set. It will rise again, and it will set again. As the red sun moves from east to west, then slips away from west to east – will you have the patience to wait for me?”’
All around the shop, the cherry-blossom branches dangled from the vases, their delicate limbs swaying softly as they listened to the girl’s voice. Every so often, the petals left the branches, one by one, spiralling through the air as they slowly descended to the floor. Out of nowhere, a flickering shadow filled the seat at the rear of the room. It was almost as though the shadow was indecisive about fully appearing. Nevertheless, it did seem to be enjoying the girl’s reading, as it alternated between expanding its body and narrowing it again, keeping time with the rhythm of her voice.
The calico cat kept its eyes shut.Boléroplayed on.
TWO
‘A hundred years had passed.’
A sudden flareof light poured from the trees and shot through the glass, the brightness making him squint for a moment. To say that he was dazzled would be an understatement. The sun had caught him completely off-guard. The thought of his vision going white, even for a split second, struck him with a surge of overwhelming fear. He could have overlooked anything – a monkey, a deer, a rock or a fallen tree – and that alone was enough to send a chill down his spine. Instinctively, he blinked rapidly, clenched his teeth under his chinstrap, and pointed forward. This safety procedure had become second nature to him.
As the train cut through the mountains, it occasionally passed beneath an arcade of trees. Every time it did so, his grip on the controls tightened, ready to react should he need it to. The responsibility he bore for the vehicle, which weighed tons on its own, was an immense pressure on his shoulders, not to mention the lives of the passengers it carried. Moreover, he knew that averting would be impossible. Looking well ahead was about the only thing he could do to avoid a potential collision. Even so, Shingo preferred the alertness required to navigate the route through the mountain range.
From early spring to early summer, the vivid green of young leaves reigned over the landscape until they were eventually overthrown by the relentless midsummer sun. Soon, shades of yellow and orange would emerge here and there before swiftly surrendering to deep crimson and dazzling gold. But only a short while later, the entire landscape would be blanketed in silvery white. Such were the distinct changes that marked the transition of seasons, which Shingo believed to be one of the greatest joys of this country.
The train eventually approached a station at the foot of a mountain. Across the tracks from the stationbuilding, atop an elevated stretch of land, stood a cluster of Yamazakura – wild cherry trees – that, during the spring season, adorned the landscape with beautiful blossoms. At one point, the station even became a bustling tourist spot after news of the stunning trees spread through word of mouth.
Under Shingo’s control, the train glided smoothly into the platform. As usual, he brought the train to a flawless stop, the hand on the speedometer resting on zero at precisely the designated position. The train would be held at the platform for exactly five minutes.
Confirming the safety of the platform, Shingo conducted another check on the brakes before finally exiting the train, then immediately stretched out his arms to loosen his shoulders. Perhaps because it was early morning, a veil of fog hung over the station, the cherry trees dissolving into white.What a shame, Shingo thought, as he turned around to the station building and the ticket barriers on the other side of the tracks. In that instant, a gust of wind swept away the fog entirely, suddenly uncovering a building that Shingo had never seen before. A traditional Japanese structure with wooden walls and many windows, a bronze weathercock stood atop its green-tiled triangular roof.
Blimey, where has that come from?He was certain that no such station existed on his train line. In fact, the building looked nothing like a station. Doubts filling his head, Shingo noticed a figure sitting on a bench right next to the ticket barriers. He didn’t need to strain his eyes to see that it was his wife, Yuriko.
‘Yuriko, what on earth are you doing here?’
When Shingo called out to her in surprise, his wife stood up, opening her mouth to say something, but her voice did not reach him. Just then, the fog returned, thickening rapidly. His arm, which he had extended towards his wife, had vanished from the wrist down. For a moment, he stood in utter confusion. Then, an intense feeling of urgency crashed through him as the alarm bell signalling the train’s departure began to ring.What is Yuriko saying? I need to hurry, or else the train will be delayed…
This was the dream Shingo Kikukawa was having just before he woke up that morning. Memories were curious things. Though merely a dream – a world without physical form – it was the most vivid, faithful recreation of the routine he’d repeated countless times for more than forty years, down to the smallest detail. The speed at which the rails passed beneath the train, the steady vibrations and rhythmic sounds, the order in which the trees appeared, the colour of their leaves, the angle of the signals and the curve of the track, all but that strange station he witnessed at the end of the journey was exactly as Shingo had seen and heard throughout his life as a train driver.
Yet by the time Shingo awoke, he didn’t recall any of it; he didn’t even realise that he had been dreaming. Moreover, he didn’t fully understand that he had long retired from his work as a train driver. There was no reason, then, that he would know why tears had gathered at the corner of his eyes as he stirred from sleep.
The room Shingo lived in had one large west-facing window. On some summer evenings, the smothering heat of the westering sun was so intense, it drained Shingo of the energy to speak, but he was still grateful that he had such a generous view of the outdoors. Plus, his room was on the side that overlooked the mountains.
The way nature changed its attire as the seasons passed by filled Shingo’s heart with deep appreciation. It gave him the reassurance that time was still flowing.
Pulling himself up, Shingo carefully laid his feet on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed both hands on his knees and exhaled. Aware that his heart and lungs were still functioning properly, he silently expressed his gratitude. Then, he opened and closed his right hand repeatedly, around five times. All good. Next, he tried the same with his left hand. Although a few of his fingers seemed to lack strength, he was doing much better than before.
Shingo tried to stand up but wasn’t able to, not straightaway. Just as he expected, his left leg was unstable. His cane, which he was certain he’d put by his pillow, seemed to have disappeared – until he realised that it had fallen over and was lying on the floor.Frowning, Shingo leaned forward and stretched out his hand, somehow managing to pull it towards him. He found it frustrating that a task so simple had taken him such a long time to accomplish.
Relying on his cane, Shingo walked over to his in-room sink and washed his face. Then, looking in the mirror, he carefully ran the electric shaver over his skin. He would clean his teeth after breakfast. And if he didn’t want anyone telling him off, he mustn’t forget to take his medicine.What a nuisance,Shingo thought to himself. He didn’t even know what they were for.
After combing his hair, he sat back down on the bed for a moment to steady his breathing before standing up again to get dressed. He removed his pyjamas and threw them on the bed. He would leave them there for the time being. Then, slipping his arms through the sleeves of his collared shirt, he fastened his tie. Everything had gone smoothly up to that point, but putting his trousers on was going to be a different story. First, he had to sit down, then, taking his time, he pulled them on one leg at a time. The same went for his socks.
The final step was his uniform. Removing his gold-buttoned jacket from the hanger, he put it on. Then, he fixed his cap on his head. As soon as he did so, he felt his body straighten up. By then, the fact that he had needed his cane to lift himself out of bed had been erased from his mind. It was now time for breakfast, and that was the only thought that filled Shingo’s head.
The canteen was on the ground floor. Shingo took the lift down. When he got off, he turned right. He was quite confident that this was the correct way, and his chest lightened as the smell of cooking came wafting over. Glancing at the serving counter, he saw that a queue had already formed. Everyone’s head looked white from behind, except the one person who had dyed her hair purple. Why anyone would do such thing was beyond him. Her name was… Hmm… What was it again? Not that it mattered, as he wasn’t even sure if he knew her. While he recognised the hair colour, he couldn’t remember what her face looked like.
Soon, it was Shingo’s turn. Everyone had the same meal, that morning’s dishes being rice porridge, rolled omelette, grilled salmon, simmered kombu seaweed, and pickled nozawana leaves.
