Spring, 1989. It had been a while since I decided to roam the streets of southwest Tokyo. The sky empty of its usual voluminous clouds, Mount Fuji occupied most of the horizon. It was oddly quiet; the bustling of office workers and the yawns of children plodding to school was absent on such a peaceful day. Across the lake, lily pads were randomly distributed, sustaining the weight of the croaking frogs effortlessly. Scattering the cherry blossoms, the breeze gently brushed past the few people walking, each one having a story. I had one too.
It wasn't long ago when we often met by Kawaguchiko Station. Waiting for me patiently, you were constantly shivering from winter's harsh winds pricking your skin. Despite your crimson scarf covering most of your face, I could see the twinkle in your eyes from a mile away. You always seemed so happy to see me. No matter where we were off to, it was always a memorable time for us. The countless times we silently studied in the library, the snowflakes always stippled the sky in different ways. The lattes we always ordered had a different design each time.
I never stopped wondering why you chose me out of everyone to be your friend. I don't stand out in any way; my clothes were nothing special and whenever I glanced at a mirror the only thing I noticed was the dark circles under my eyes. In contrast, it was clear the amount of effort you put into every outfit, your kind nature toying with everyone's hearts and the way you selflessly piled other's concerns above yours never went unnoticed. Spontaneously, I asked that question multiple times, yet in return you smiled and said nothing, as if I asked nothing at all. But one day you did tell me.
Gazing out the window, I could tell something was on your mind, but something urged me to leave it alone. After all, we did the same things we always did: ordered two lattes, silently studied in the library as the snowflakes stippled the sky, and roamed the streets of southwest Tokyo. It was simply such a day. As I reached out to brush the piling snow off your beret, your eyes suddenly met with mine as you confessed, 'Want to know why I chose you? Because you're the only one who wants nothing in return.' Your answer initially didn't surprise me, but as we continued down the windy path back to our dorms a wave of emotion came over me and my eyes suddenly pricked with tears.
I was never concerned with the 'meaning of life'; my attitude wasn't pitiful, I merely found it foolish to behave in a way that satisfied other's wants. Although this simplistic life made existing as easy as possible, sometimes my mind strayed away and unconsciously focused on the people laughing with their friends, the pranks they pulled on one another, the complaints they made about their grades. I didn't mind having no-one to share such encounters with, but sometimes, as much as I struggled to dismiss it, my existence was the remains of a grayscale, derelict forest. Yet as soon as you uttered those words, a sprig shot up from the infertile ground, and myriads of meadows instantaneously bloomed across the fields of my life. Colour was present for the first time in forever.
It was by chance that we met. Whether it was because our stars aligned, or we were lovers in our past lives, it was strange to think the reason for my pang of euphoria was an ordinary college student who dressed well in the small town of Fujikawaguchiko.
Spring, 1989. The last time I decided to roam the streets of southwest Tokyo. The sky was empty of its usual voluminous clouds, Mount Fuji occupied most of the horizon. It was oddly quiet; the bustling of office workers and the yawns of children plodding to school was absent on such a peaceful day. Across the lake, lily pads were randomly distributed, sustaining the weight of the croaking frogs effortlessly. Scattering the cherry blossoms, the breeze gently brushed past the few people walking and everyone had a companion to laugh and joke around with.
Everyone except me.
