THE sky was a brilliant hue of blue on the day of the graduation ceremony. Although winter’s bite lingered in the morning breeze, the sun’s warm embrace informed us that spring was just around the corner.
…Or at least, so I guessed. I couldn’t know for sure because the gymnasium was so darn cold. By the end of the ceremony, which seemed simultaneously brief and eternal, my fingers were chilled to the bone. After homeroom, Mao and Honomi both rushed to their respective clubs to see off the graduating seniors. The main attraction of the day’s celebrations was an impressive student-constructed arch over the inclined path leading away from school. The seniors would walk through it as flower petals rained on them from every direction.
Although the entire school buzzed with activity, I had absolutely nothing to do. My home economics club never met, and that day was no different. Heck, I didn’t even know who the club’s graduating seniors were. A sense of loneliness and restlessness crept into my heart as I watched the others, their joy and energy not quite infectious. I had half a mind to leave then and there, but I had promised Honomi I’d stay. Her face had been as pale as a ghost since earlier that morning. I supposed mine would be too if I were planning to bare my heart to my crush.
The school entrance was crowded with graduating seniors, current students, parents, teachers—it was a total logjam. The band club was somewhere in that press, yet I couldn’t glimpse Honomi at all.
Don’t tell me she’s going to do her tulip thing in the middle of all that? I would have been mortified to confess in front of that many onlookers. Honomi, you’re a stronger woman than I.
Reluctant to join the throng, I slipped away to the bike racks where we’d promised to meet. From there, through a chain link fence, I had a clear view of the path down the slope. The send-offs for the track-and-field and soccer clubs were in full swing.
“Oh, there’s Towada.”
The tennis club was present as well. Towada was so tall that he was always instantly recognizable. Sounds of congratulation, applause, and even an acapella duet from the music club reached my ears on a tepid breeze. Gradually, the number of students on the path dwindled, the crowd thinning.
Just as the procession started to wind down, Mao’s voice rang out from behind me. “Haruka, thanks for waiting!”
“Hey, Mao,” I replied, my tone light. At the same time, I caught sight of a familiar ponytail swishing toward us, its owner approaching at a brisk and determined pace.
“Mao, Haruka!” Honomi slammed into me with all of her momentum as her arms encircled me tightly. The world tilted, and I almost lost my balance, but Mao helped steady me. Honomi buried her face against my shoulder, and I felt her body tremble. I gently patted her back, offering silent comfort. When she finally looked up, the worry that had clouded her face that morning had vanished, replaced by flushed cheeks and eyes shimmering with unshed tears; my breath hitched.
Mao and I exchanged nods.
“U-U-Um, so…”
“No, it’s okay, I think we know what happened,” interrupted Mao playfully. Despite her teasing, she clearly didn’t truly want to stop Honomi. And Honomi, for her part, wasn’t about to be stopped.
“He said he was really happy and thanked me!”
“That’s great, Honomi,” I said.
✦ ✦ ✦
She nodded. “Yep! …I was so nervous.” Her voice wobbled as she collapsed back into me and let all the emotion out. Mao placed a comforting hand on her back as the taller Honomi hunched at an awkward angle to find solace in my shoulder.
“I’m so glad,” Honomi murmured repeatedly, her voice hushed and broken by soft sobs.
✦ ✦ ✦
A week before the new trimester, toward the end of spring break, Ayako invited me over to witness the blossoming of the tulips we’d planted together.
On the familiar porch, I cradled a steaming mug of tea. The tulips stretched below me, the blooms plump and bursting with life, their hues in blended harmony—a marvel, considering the haphazard manner in which they’d been planted. The nearby grape hyacinths, too, commanded attention, the brilliant little dots of purple like the essence of spring itself.
Flanking the gravel from the gate to the house, a garden canvas unraveled amid a winding path of weathered stepping stones: Pale-green hellebores past their prime, their charm nonetheless intact. White and purple springstars stood at attention, while crimson anemones danced with petals fluttering softly on the breeze. Traditional garden favorites, like the pansy or violet were unexpectedly infrequent, their sporadic presence like easter eggs, happy little accidents waiting to be found. The roses that would eventually form a lush curtain around the porch already sprouted tender shoots and eager buds, hinting at the spectacle to come. And vigorous sprouts of clematis reached for the skies in earnest—no doubt the prospect of controlling their growth each spring was a challenge.
The oaties played an important role in the garden’s upkeep, or so I’d heard. I had yet to actually catch them in the act. Regardless, Ayako’s garden, with its plethora of plants, occupied a special place in my heart. It was a tapestry of randomness, yet everything seemed to belong—as if the garden, in all its wild splendor, mirrored the owner’s spirit.
Generous, warm, and welcoming—just like her.
I watched Ayako, somewhat lost in thought, as she poured more hot tea, tendrils of vapor escaping into the cold.
“Is there something on my face?” she asked when our eyes met.
“Oh, no. It’s just you changed your hairstyle. It looks great.”
Her loose waves were dyed a lighter shade of brown; the color suited her phenomenally. She brushed a hand through her hair, a pleased smile on her lips. “It’s spring, after all. Out with the old, in with the new.” She turned to me, sweeping a glance from my shoulders to my lap. “I know this is business as usual, but you’re okay there?”
“I’m fine. I wonder why they’re still around though. Usually they all scatter after snack time.” Two oaties rested on my lap: mine and another I didn’t recognize quite as well. Another was perched on my shoulder, three nestled at my feet, and a duo bookended me on the bench. Enveloped by their warmth, I had no need for the blanket Ayako had thoughtfully provided. “Are you guys waiting for Towada?” I mused.
“Maybe. He is late. I wonder what’s taking him so long at the post office.”
Towada had ventured out to mail presents to his sister for her upcoming birthday. We’d discovered the date recently when Akira made a rare phone call to his son. I remembered the call perfectly. Why? Because I, at their house at the time, had somehow ended up on the video as well. Why a video call? Well, that was because neither of the Towada men knew how to speak to each other.
In anticipation of Towada’s birthday the following month, Akira had asked in his characteristically stern, borderline-angry voice whether or not he wanted anything, to which Towada responded with utter silence. The exchange was so painful that I impulsively jumped in just to move the conversation forward. We then learned about his sister’s approaching birthday and naturally wanted to help her celebrate. Since it might have been weird to receive a gift from someone you’d never met, and given Towada’s inexperience with siblinghood, we opted to keep our well-wishes simple and both send her a card. Easter was afoot where she lived, so I picked out one with a pop-up bunny design, while Towada’s was very Japanese with a sakura motif. That the card would be his first-ever gift to his sister felt particularly heartwarming. And so he was at the post office with the cards and a small gift from Ayako in tow.
“I hope she likes them,” I mumbled.
“Of course she will,” Ayako assured me.
As I set my mug down, the sound of the gate latch pricked my ears. “Welcome back—whoa, oaties?” Before I could turn fully, the oaties milling about made a mad dash toward Towada. They surrounded him, appearing desperate to tell him something all at once. The sparkles emitting from their mouths floated upward to the bells in the tree before disappearing into the sky without a trace. Unable to understand the creatures, I simply let myself be entranced by the spectacle while Towada crossed his arms and listened intently. When he finally glanced up at us, he looked rather conflicted.
“Something up with the oaties?” I asked.
“Um, no, it’s fine. You guys can go inside, I’ll catch up.”
I grunted in affirmation and stepped through the door.