The Color of the Sky I saw that Day was also Blue

Chapter 11:
Reunion Pt. 2

Breaking free of the jam, as soon as they hit Highway 106, the flow of traffic improved. The car flew by various scenes of cedar forests and fields, winding roads through the mountains surrounded by woods, and in around two hours they arrived in Morioka City.

They had lunch at a hamburger shop just off the highway, and Honoka checked the address written on the back of the brown envelope and instructed him to turn at countless intersections. Although he had lived in this city in junior high school, the scenery had changed over the past ten years, and his memories had faded. Taking into consideration that he had never visited Takasaki Minako’s house, he was probably seeing more than half of the area for the very first time.

He drove for another thirty minutes while she led the way. Eventually, they arrived at Minako’s house.

It was a neat two-story painted light blue. In the garden on the other side of the brick wall was a trim and well-maintained lawn where a canopied porch swing sat. To the side of the white, iron fence at the entrance was a red mailbox, and under the fence colorful flowers were planted in a flowerbed.

It was clear to anyone who looked that it was a happy home.

Osakabe got a bad feeling. He stopped the car on the side of the street a little ways from the Takasaki house, and found himself unable to move.

He had to at least check the nameplate by the door.1

He had to ring the doorbell, and he had to at least announce his presence.

He wanted to at least see Minako’s face.

At the same moment as all those thoughts ran wild in his mind, he was aware of the plan he had thought up before arriving at this spot crumbling away like a sand castle in the tide. Several minutes passed, and still his feet showed no intention of moving.

But actually, it may have been a stroke of luck that Osakabe was petrified.

Before long, the door to the garage next to the house began to open, and a large, white sedan drove out. The car slowly came their way and not long after passed by.

He looked inside the car as it passed.

In the driver’s seat, a clean-cut man. He was likely in his late twenties. And, beside him, a woman with a joyful expression. Even after ten years, even after growing into a refined young woman, he recognized her without a doubt—Takasaki Minako. And though he couldn’t make out the face through the tinted windows, he saw the figure of a child in the back seat.

A beautiful home.

An expensive car.

A loving couple.

Anyone who saw them would know they were a perfectly happy family.

This was in no way the appropriate circumstances to be approached by an estranged classmate. And at the same time, Osakabe came to grips with the reality that he had lost his fleeting chance at first love.

As he wordlessly hung his head, Honoka gently clasped his left hand. He trembled for a moment then raised his head and spoke, his forced voice thin like the whine of a mosquito.

“You tried to warn me. ‘You’re wasting your time, it’ll ruin your memories.’ And yet I came all the way out here, acting all tough, only to get hurt just like anyone else. It’s hilarious, isn’t it?”

“Getting hurt isn’t a bad thing,” she said softly. “Everyone’s afraid of getting hurt. But you’ll go nowhere if you give in to that fear. People get hurt no matter what. They make mistakes, and they fall down. But isn’t that a good thing? Everyone stands back up, stronger than before. Let’s go back with smiles on our faces. You promised.”

Osakabe felt a lump form in his throat at Honoka’s words, who somehow seemed to clearly understand life. It was sad and embarrassing to be comforted by a girl who was only nineteen years old. When the emotions surged up inside him and overflowed as sobs, Honoka held onto his left hand and watched him in silence.

He thought to himself, once more:

It’s a good thing I didn’t come by myself today. That Honoka was here beside me, to save me.

Osakabe, after ten minutes of sitting there, hanging his head, finally wiped his eyes and shook his head to free himself of the gloomy thoughts. “Let’s go back.”

This smile must be awfully stiff, he thought. But even so, she made the effort to return his smile with her own, natural one.

“Let’s take our time going back,” she said.

Taking their time, they drove off.

On the way back, he took Honoka’s suggestion into consideration and drove at a slower pace compared to the drive up. They arrived back in Miyako City over a full hour later. At just about the time their stomachs started to growl, he found a ramen shop where they had an early dinner. About the time they left the shop, the day had grown dark. Several streetlights had already turned on, and from the light leaking out between the gaps in the curtains of the surrounding houses, he imagined warm and harmonious scenes.

He was suddenly overcome by an unbearable sense of suffocation. After trying to cough up whatever was jammed in his chest, he slid into the car in order to escape. He shut the door and tried to start the engine when Honoka said out of nowhere—

“Do you want to get some fireworks?”

Osakabe repeated after her with a straight face. “…fireworks?”

“Yeah, fireworks,” she confirmed. “After all, we don’t have to return the car until tomorrow right? It would be a waste to just return it now. So let’s have a little fun together!”

As usual, she comes up with some random ideas, he thought. But this time, he didn’t think it was such a bad idea. Smiling in agreement, he started driving in the direction of the nearest hardware store.

In Japan, most houses (including some apartments!) have a nameplate, called a 表札 hyosatsu. They are often stylized to the owner’s preferences, with the surname of whatever family lives in the house.