ROADSIDE FLOWERS ( t. kageyama )

xxiv. double rainbows

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roadside flowers.
chapter 24: double rainbows
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nine hundred and seventy days of uneventfulness pass and a new season unfurls. hokkaido during the end of sunmer is snow piling on sidewalks with mountains looming in the distance. people talk amongst themselves as i stand on the platform of the train.

"don't forget to call," mom says in this weird attempt to be affectionate. i give her a genuine smile before waving goodbye to my siblings.

kyo looks like he's about to cry. "enjoy tokyo, teruko."

"i will," i tell him before i turn back to mother.

we neither hug nor cry. we'll miss each other, i guarantee that, but mom and i over the last couple of years have never really been affectionate with each other. i think i can never be that close with her after all she's done to me. to us. i love her, i always have, but years of neglect and cruelty will never be washed away by her tears.

i will never be like eniko, i've known that for years, but now i realize that i do not want to be like my sister anymore.

"bye," i say to all of them and my siblings give me one final embrace before i board the train.

snow continues to fall as i sit on one of the weathered seats, my eyes trailing towards the outside world. the snowfall is so harsh that i fear the power lines on the side of the track would grow icicles ready to pierce through people's flesh. the train occasionally jostles side to side and my heart lurches to my throat every time it does, but when i reach my stop, i get off of it without a single scratch on my being.

i inform mei of my arrival to tokyo and that i'm going to head to my apartment now. the streets are bustling with people and unlike hokkaido that's cold and surrounded with mountains, tokyo is hot with high-rise buildings and bridges looming over the people. they cast gigantic shadows unto the asphalt streets offering an ample amount of shade to shield the passersby from the scorching heat of the sun.

i open my umbrella as i walk towards my apartment. eniko reminded me last night to take into consideration the familiarity of my body in this sort of environment. she said that i may have been become too used with the cold hokkaido atmosphere that this air mingled with pollution might make me sick. when i arrive at my apartment, i make my presence known to the landlady and she welcomes me with a kind smile.

the landlady is a short woman, or maybe regular sized for her age, but these past months i've grown even taller that eniko is probably not even past my ears now. somehow it gives me this foreign tingly feeling that brightens my mood.

my new room still lacks furnitures and fixtures but i figure that i'm too tired to put up some of the mason jars and polaroids i've brought with me so i merely make my bed and lie on it.

"how was it so far?" eniko asks through the screen of my laptop. it was hers before but she gave it to me during the first year of college.

"i haven't really done anything yet," i answer and she looks at me disapprovingly.

"at least prepare your things for monday so you won't encounter any problems," she lectures me. "and teru, i don't think i have to remind you, but i'll just say it so you don't forget. socialize more okay? join a club or something. something with purpose and worth your time. but don't forget your academics."

i ponder it for a few minutes, toying with the fabric of my bedsheets as i do so. eniko brewed herself a cup of tea while i was enraptured in my thoughts. join something, huh?

the last time i joined something, that was in junior high. the karasuno boys' basketball club. it was pretty nerve wracking. i wonder how they're doing now. looking back, i caused trouble for them plenty of times. i couldn't function well enough to have the best output possible for them, but now, the same rattle scurrying in my bones has vanished. as i am now, i could probably have done it better.