Page 18 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop
‘As you might have guessed, that book has opened up the passage. It’s not every day that we have such fortunate encounters, so, please, do take a seat.’
Shingo did as he was told. The girl arranged a napkin and coaster on his table. Then, making a fist in front of her face, she let out anahem.
‘As you may be aware, generally speaking, there are two ways in which the word “dream” is used. One of them illustrates what we aspire to be in the future. The other is something that only appears in our sleep, a kind of nonsensical virtual space that we create for ourselves. Personally, I find it fascinating that this is true not only for Japanese and English, but for many other languages around the world. But anyway, the subject of this book by Soseki is of course the dream you have while you’re sleeping.’
The girl straightened her back a little before holding up her index finger in an exaggerated manner.
‘Which has led me to wonder: are dreams we have during sleep truly individual experiences? Could it be possible that, while we’re sleeping, we become so vulnerable that we detach from ourselves, and connect with a different world? I have a feeling that the answers to these questions have something to do with me and my cat. And perhaps this shop as well.’
Unable to make sense of her words, Shingo simply stared at her face.
‘In any case, Soseki was forty-one when he wrote this book,Ten Nights of Dreams. The writing flows like silk, and its effects are meticulously calculated. It would be fair to say that the author had reached peak maturity at the time.’
The girl’s words wouldn’t stop. By now, Shingo had forgotten to question how he had come here, and why this young lady was sitting across from him.
‘According to a writer I know – he’s an old acquaintance of mine – if you want to write beautifully in Japanese, you must first study Soseki exhaustively. Once you’ve achieved that, a casual exploration of Naoya Shiga will be enough to round out the learning. This writer also told me that there’s a solid reason why Soseki is considered so special among Japanese authors. The Meiji Restoration was a time of rapid transformation that led Japan to foster a new national identity. Such changes were happening within Soseki, as well. He was the first author to take on the challenge of capturing the inner self in writing. In that sense, we can say that Soseki helped shaped the way interior thoughts are portrayed in Japanese literature. Which is why, for those who love novels, the fact that one of his major works is titledKokorois more than emotionally moving, it’s miraculous.’
Shingo observed the girl with a baffled look on his face. Was she ever going to stop talking? As the saying goes, she must have been one of those people who was ‘born from the mouth,’ he thought privately.
But then, the girl puffed out her cheeks and said, ‘Did you just have a mean thought about me?’
How did she know? As he carried his thought further, Shingo looked directly at the girl without intending to. Her smile was still intact, radiating profound joy.
‘Words are already there before you say them out loud. Just because they haven’t taken form yet, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. Accessing something like that takes a bit of skill, but when you’re as experienced as I am, it just comes naturally.’
Once again, the girl drew a fist to her mouth and gave a singleahem.
‘I suppose that’s enough introduction from me. Now, it’s your turn, Kobako.’
As if on cue, a ball of fur landed on the table. It was an elegant calico cat with an impressive coat and elegant demeanour. Shingo watched the cat’s limbs move deftly across the table, effortlessly avoiding the coaster and napkin. Once it had claimed a spot and settled down, it gave a slightly drawn-out meow.
‘We invited you to the shop today as we’d like you to confirm for yourself the words you’ve been searching for. You might feel a little bit dizzy, but there’s no need to worry.’
Shingo had barely finished hearing the girl’s words when he was thrown off balance, as though the world had suddenly turned upside down.You said ‘a little bit’!he grumbled inside his head. But the next moment, Shingo was gasping at the sight before him. It was Yuriko. Moreover, she looked very young, around the same age as Mai.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke. On the wooden walls were Art Deco-style posters. Next to him was a young man wearing a waistcoat and a bow tie. He held a young woman in his arms, her ponytail swaying to the voice of Nat King Cole. Shingo realised that, alongside other couples, he was also enjoying a dance with Yuriko.
Is this a dream? If so, how long have I been dreaming? Perhaps it began when I was pushed into a wheelchair and taken through the garden. Or could it be when those two women claimed that they were my daughter and granddaughter? Surely, it couldn’t have been before that.
Is it possible that I’m seeing a replay of my whole life? If this is the case, is something trying to tell me that this was the moment my life truly started?
For the first time in what felt like for ever, Shingo’s brain was spinning at full speed. In the meantime, the young Shingo holding Yuriko’s hand gazed into her eyes and spoke his words of proposal.
‘I want to marry you.’
Yuriko said okay, then pressed her face against his chest. Feeling the heat of her skin seep into him, Shingo found himself almost surrendering to the warmth that flooded his heart.
He didn’t know how long they’d been in each other’s arms. The song had changed, and the voice of Cole singing ‘Unforgettable’ echoed through the room.
Finally, his wife pulled away and looked up at him.
‘Promise me one thing.’
As soon as she said it, Yuriko’s face flushed crimson.
‘I’m embarrassed to say it. You won’t laugh, will you?’
‘You can tell me anything.’
