Page 21 of The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop
‘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 –hikyostations – as enthusiasts call them.’
