静けさの囁き: Whispers of Serenity

Prologue : The whispers of memories [R]

•••

The first time I set foot in Japan, I was filled with an overwhelming mix of excitement and fear.

It was my mother's homeland, a place she had longed to return to for years. For as long as I could remember, she had spoken about the rolling green mountains, the scent of cherry blossoms in spring, and the quiet, lantern-lit streets of the village where she grew up. She missed it so much that, eventually, she decided we would go back-just the two of us.

But while Japan was home to my mother, it wasn't to me.

My father was half British and Japanese, and I had lived in the UK since born. I was used to the cool gray skies, the way the streets bustled in the mornings, the smell of rain on cobblestone. The language there was familiar, comfortable-every syllable rolled off my tongue naturally. But Japanese? That was different. The sounds felt foreign in my mouth, and no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to mix things up.

I was terrified.

I wanted to be excited about the move, to see the place my mother had always spoken about with such warmth in her voice. But when we arrived, all I could think about was how different everything was.

The air smelled different-crisp, fresh, carrying the faintest trace of incense and earth. The sky seemed wider, more open, and the houses, with their wooden frames and sliding doors, felt like something out of a storybook. The village, Mizukawa, was nothing like the city streets I had known in Britain. Here, the roads were quieter, the nights darker, the stars brighter.

And the people... they spoke so quickly.

I tried my best to keep up, to understand, but more often than not, I fumbled. Words got stuck in my throat, sentences came out wrong, and sometimes, when I finally worked up the courage to speak, I was met with puzzled expressions from the village children.

They didn't mean to be cruel-I could tell from the way they hesitated, trying to figure out what I was saying. But still, I felt out of place. Like I didn't belong.

I wasn't alone in Japan-my mother was always by my side, guiding me through the village, introducing me to neighbors, encouraging me to try new things. But my older sister, Tsutako, had stayed behind in the UK with my father.

I missed her. A lot.

Even though she visited when she could, there were times when I desperately wished she was here with me. She was always the calm, steady one, the person I could count on when I didn't know what to do. Without her, I felt like I was wandering through unfamiliar territory, struggling to find my footing.

But despite the challenges, Mizukawa Village had a strange, quiet charm that slowly wrapped around me.

•••

𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮, 24, 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝 2004

After we moved into my grandmother's house, I found myself drawn to the front yard. The house itself was old but well-kept, with wooden beams that creaked softly under the weight of time. From where I stood, I could see the wide-open fields stretching far into the distance, blending seamlessly into the rolling hills beyond.

I tilted my head back, gazing up at the sky.

It wasn't that I had never seen open fields before-England had plenty. But here in Mizukawa Village, the air carried a different kind of freshness. It wasn't just crisp-it was alive. The wind carried the scent of earth, of wildflowers and fresh grass, of something untamed yet familiar.