Inflorescence

I slipped my hand under the pillow and turned my dim phone alarm off. Lucy stirred a little in the bed next to mine. I froze for a moment, but then she began snoring softly again. Yesterday’s hike through Hachimantai had worn us all out. The glow of my phone torch filled the room as I climbed out of bed. Hanging from the wardrobe in front of me was my attire for tonight. White bell sleeves cast a ghostly shadow on the wood. I was uneasy.

It was 11 pm when I closed the door of my apartment room. The hallway stretched passed my classmate’s doors. I tried to step quietly across the wooden floor, but my leather mules were unforgiving; the sound was excruciating. Hoisting my bag across my shoulder, I ran, apartment keys and coins jingling obnoxiously inside. The man at the desk was old but weary, he frowned when he saw me enter the apartment lobby without any of my classmates or teachers. I forgot this wasn’t like home. I smiled awkwardly at him and walked over to the desk. A cultural mix of stamps and signatures covered the signing book. After scanning the sheet for a few seconds, I found my name written in Katakana. The man huffed at me impatiently and so I signed out. It was a mistake, but all of this was. After a glance over my shoulder, I gave him a shallow bow and left the apartment complex, out onto the streets of Tsuruoka City.

A while later, I arrived at Shiyakusho-mae and departed the bus. The roads were the same as they were in Tsuruoka City; long expanses of economic beige brick, with tall spiny lights. Below the dark sky, in the distance, were clusters of Yamagata’s high-rise buildings. The path up to Tsuruoka Park was on a short incline, there were not many people alongside me. The majority of those I saw in the vicinity were exiting the park; bounds of university and college students and slightly drunk couples walked to the same stop I had gotten off at. Before entering, I paused. I’d always wished I didn’t have such a fragile conscience. I could turn my feet and walk away. But I was so tired of mountains and earthquakes. Through the gates, the strings of lanterns glowed like flecks of fluorescent paint against the black sky. The rhythm of the warm April air carried me along the path, and into the park.

I passed a huddle of vendors on my way in. Japanese men and women in marquees were selling sweets, food, and merchandise for the spring season. I ignored my gnawing hunger and carried on. Although in the season of growth, the ground was made of militantly cut grass; a podium for the star of the moment. Cherry blossom trees sat in bunches along the bank of the Park’s moat. I took a sharp breath. They were in full bloom - splays of pink that hued lilac under the night lights. It was criminal to exploit sites of nature; the Hanami season was a tourist season. The more steps I took, the more I felt I was an accessory to the crime. My eyes wandered over to the moat, a body of water that once surrounded Tsurugaoka Castle. The castle was now in ruins, with the remanence of it left in stone walls and century-old cedar trees that were hidden amongst the Sakura. Lantern light lit the surface of the moat and many stopped on their way down to watch the milky reflection of the water. Even in the height of blossoming, handfuls of petals from the Sakura had fallen and scattered on the grass. Groups of foreign tourists were taking photographs against the picturesque backdrop. Transience was celebrated here. That for a fleeting moment, things could be perfect and beautiful

That’s when I saw him.

He stood three metres away from me. His presence caught between the moat and the wall of Sakura. My nose burned slightly at the pungent floral scent in the air. We both took a few steps toward each other. The mousy streaks in his hair glinted in the lantern light. We had an exchange to make.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He gestured for me to come closer: “Did you have a safe journey here?”

“The complex is just outside the station. I took the bus that goes to Yunohama.”

“Oh yes, of course.”

I gave him a knowing smile and stared out at the water again, a couple was by the bank, cuddling in the heap of a grey blanket.

“Did you know?” I turned back to him with my eyebrows raised, and he started laughing, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t do that here, not now.”

I told him it was nothing and we began to stroll across the grass. We were not very far apart; I could almost feel the gloss of his silk shirt against my bare forearms. An elderly woman perched on a bench stretched an arm in my direction. In the palm of her wrinkled hand was an array of Sakura petals pressed between parchment paper. Before he could turn to buy it for me, I thanked the woman in Japanese and kept on walking. He put his hand back into his trouser pocket and sighed.

“This is awfully romantic, don’t you think?” I covered my mouth in shock, “I’m so sorry James, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re probably right. I just didn’t want to make you come to my apartment; it seemed wrong.”

“It is beautiful here.”

James looked at me confidently, he knew somewhere like this would at the very least impress me. I followed behind him, watching the Sakura sway as the wind picked up for a moment. The apartment felt a thousand miles away, if Lucy happened to wake for a glass of water, she would see that my bed was pristine, and my bag had gone. I took my phone out of the bag and held the power button until I watched the screen go to black. I was a missing person for the night. We stopped by a set of benches that were placed to look like tables and chairs at a restaurant. James took my hand and made me take a seat with him.

“I bought some Hanami Dango at one of the stalls and a bottle of Koshu. I hope you like them.”

I thanked him and helped myself to the Dango, I had neglected my whining stomach for too long. The Koshu glistened under the large lanterns that were surrounding the seating area. There was a long moment of silence whilst we ate and drank.

“We had a long day yesterday, so I apologise if I’m not great company.”

“That mountain range was dreadful, wasn’t it? It’s great to see a complex stratovolcano up close, but a trip to the hot springs really would have made the leg cramps worthwhile.”

I laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m doing it again.”

It was hard to communicate with someone like him in a setting like this. My eyes stared blankly at his face. I thought of my mum and my brother. As much as James was trying, I wanted this more so than he did. Ignoring that moment, we ate for a bit longer, I drank the Koshu enthusiastically. Another couple around my age was kissing between eating their vendor snacks. The season of spring was for new love and life; did I feel both or neither at all? I looked at James again, he was rolling his leftover Dango stick between his fingers.

“Did you know?” I said proudly.

“Do I know…what?”

“Did you know, that one of the hot springs in Hachimantai has the highest acidity of any hot spring in Japan?”

“No, I didn’t,” James playfully scoffed, “tell me more.”

“Its bedrock emits very weak radioactivity which they believe can cure some illnesses. It’s in Tamagawa. Your legs could probably do with it.”

James replied with one of the many Geographical facts he held on to for his students. I replied with another and this went on until the bottle of Koshu was empty. Japanese wine was not for the faint of heart. I glimpsed over my shoulder. A Weeping Cherry Blossom tree hung over part of the moat, petals spreading along the water. For a moment, it seemed as if the Shidarezakura was rain falling into the moat and turning it into a sheet of pink satin. The silk shirt clung to James’ chest whilst he rested on the bench. I found myself thinking of the time I met him. The moment my eyes were set upon him as I sat down for my first-ever college class. He did not see me, but I saw him. His shirts would always cling to his shoulders when he leaned over to help with my work. My infatuation for him was harmless, I merely believed it was a phase. I was just a good student. But the second night we were in Japan things changed. It was a quiet night as most of the students were unable to drink. But getting tipsy in Tokyo caused the teaching staff to talk a little too much. We stole a kiss in the outside smoking area of a bar. Since then, our schedules were separate. But I’ve felt my body ache for him from time to time.

He took my lonely hand and we retraced our way back to the entrance of Tsuruoka Park.

“I want just one more look,” I let his hand go for a moment. A cooler breeze passed by me and it fluttered through the bunches of Sakura. I smiled contently, with transience. Exiting the park, James then turned to me.

“To my place?”

I didn’t say a word.

~

I was grateful for the late-night bus service back to Tsuruoka City. We arrived in the early hours of the morning. James’ apartment complex was only a five-minute walk away from mine. The hotel lobby was almost identical, with an old man that glared wearily at us as we stepped through the spinning door. As soon as he saw James’ face his glare softened to a smile. James’ strutted past the desk with me on his arm, the man nodded politely at me and I returned the gesture. Discreetly, we made it to his room.

“Do you want anything to drink?” James called from the kitchen.

I refused his offer. My shoes were already strewn across the carpet. I felt a pinch of envy at the bedroom he had; it was a good size and he didn’t have to share. My hand reached out and fumbled for the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, I noticed something on the bedside table. The sound of moving metal and glass stopped after a few minutes. The flick of a light switch was followed by soft footsteps across the wooden floor.

“I need to be up in a few hours, I’m-“

“It’s crazy,” I said, holding the postcard up to the light, “there are still more than 2,000 people reported missing from the Tōhoku earthquake.”

Standing in the doorway, James chuckled. I felt my face flushing, so I placed the postcard back on the bedside table. I leaned back on my elbows.

“Can I say something?”

I gave him a decisive nod.

He placed his cup of wine gently on the postcard so that his soft face hovered next to mine.

“I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

I let out a gasp: “Me too.”

Within seconds, James was on top of me, removing my dress and tossing it to the floor. I began to salivate as I watched his lips come toward mine. I pushed back against him, sliding the silk shirt over his head, and threw it in the growing pile of abandoned clothes. A mirror was placed innocently by the bed. I lie on the soft floral sheets; our bodies bare in the lamplight. The scent of Sakura and Koshu diffused from his skin. Something turbulent erupted inside of me, and I let him have my body.

“We didn’t have to meet in that Park.”

I was silenced by his hand.

~

Strips of light came through the blinds and onto the bed. I stretched an arm out and felt an empty space beside me. With a brave breath, I turned my phone on. A flood of notifications came through: emails, messages from Lucy, my family, and a message from James an hour ago. He reminded me we had a free day without anything on the itinerary; I had promised Lucy that I would go with her to Tokyo today. To fill the silence in the room, I turned the apartment TV on. I flicked through the channels and found that I couldn’t understand much, even in the children’s cartoons. I removed myself from the bed. As the water ran hot, I stepped into the shower. Memories of beautiful lilac lights and soft pink petals graced me as I shut my eyes and let the drops of water fall down my tired body. The trip was over in a few days, I had one more hike to do and information to compile. Though, I ignored that thought. For a fleeting moment, things could be perfect and beautiful.

Clambering out of the shower, I took one of the apartment towels and began drying off. My phone rang. The faucet dribbled to a stop. Swiftly, I walked back to the bedroom, ready to collect my things and leave the apartment before anyone, other than my classmate, knew of my disappearance.

A strange noise came from the TV.

An orchestral roll of breaking news flashed on the television. I paused. The anchors were speaking Japanese hastily, with bursting images of people running and plumes of smoke. I fumbled for the remote, searching for a channel that spoke English:

“This morning, the Mount Ontake volcano erupted without warning. As we can see, the surrounding area is still enclosed by volcanic gas and ash.”

The image on the television screen changed.

“Several hundred nearby hikers have managed to evacuate,” a video of people in coloured jackets were pacing down the emergency exit, “but unfortunately some have tragically died.”

The image changed again.

“One of the few that have already been named is college teacher, James Moore, who was taking a hike on his day off when the volcano struck…”

I don’t remember the rest. The television hummed and I fell to the floor of his apartment room, in the heap of a grey towel.