“Keiichi, are you going to the club today and then coming back?”
“The club, grandma?”
“Oh, was it different?”
“It’s actually a circle.”
“Right, right, you call it circle.”
“I’m not going to the circle today. I have the day off from work, and I plan to come back early.”
“Can you buy some croquettes from Nakamura-ya on your way back?”
“Sure.”
Three years had elapsed since that summer when I was seventeen. Since then, I had gathered materials from universities in Kyoto and the surrounding towns and taken the exams. I managed to pass one of them, and now was a second-year student at that university.
I chose to come to Kyoto out of concern for my grandmother, who lived alone, and because I fell in love with this town where I used to visit and play during my childhood. The desire to explore and learn more about Kyoto drew me to this place.
Now, I lived with my grandma, and our relationship was still harmonious. I’d been leading a peaceful and stable life here in Kyoto.
Today’s classes ended after the fourth period. With no plans to attend any club activities or work, I found myself with some free time. I briefly considered finding something to do on campus but ultimately decided to head home. I also needed to buy croquettes for my grandma. However, it was a bit early for that.
A change of heart prompted me to get off at Kawaramachi Station and take a stroll along the nostalgic streets. What unfolded before my eyes was a townscape teeming with memories. Some of the stores on Shinkyōgoku-dori, the street that I had frequented with Saki, had transformed into new establishments. However, they still sold skewered cucumber pickles in soy sauce, and the game arcade was still operating.
I stopped in front of the game arcade. It was here we had taken purikura photos and engaged in conversations. I recalled how Saki stared at me when I accidentally bumped into a stranger girl.
The memories of my time with Saki continued to resurface vividly, but she was no longer by my side. Would our paths ever cross again? At times, I found myself on the verge of giving up. Yet, my heart flared with intense emotions each time these memories flooded back. I still loved her. The flame of passion within me had not diminished.
For six years, from the age of eleven to seventeen, she’d patiently waited for me. In comparison, I had only endured three years of separation. I resolved to stop suppressing my overwhelming feelings. It was still too early to surrender. With these thoughts in mind, I wandered through the streets of Kyoto that I had once traversed with Saki, cherishing those precious memories.
Suddenly, the voices of some girls emerged from a nearby shop. “Hey, did you know? Seika’s solo exhibition is happening on Sanjō right now.” “Really? I adore Seika’s paintings. Shall we go and have a look?”
“Absolutely, let’s go!”
Although I had never heard the name Seika, it stirred something within me. I glanced at my right hand and noticed the poster the girls had been discussing. At the top, it read, Seika Komiya’s First Solo Exhibition, followed by the address and a simple map.
I felt a yearning to see those paintings. Unconsciously, my feet guided me toward the arcade where the girls had disappeared. The gallery was tucked away in a quiet corner amidst the bustling town. Upon entering the serene and brightly lit space, a woman at reception greeted me with a warm smile.
“Hello. Welcome.”
I nodded in response. It was my first time in a space called a gallery. From a distance, I could see paintings of different sizes displayed in partitioned spaces made of standing panels.
The woman at the reception explained, “In Kyoto, young artists often hold solo exhibitions in old houses or cafés.” Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar environment, I couldn’t move.
“This place used to be a café, too,” she continued. “We want as many people as possible to see the works of promising young artists.”
I stayed silent, taking in her words.
“Seika-san is also one of them,” she said clearly while looking at a painting in the distance from where she stood at reception. It was evident that she was a fan of this artist.
Her gaze fixated on the distant painting, her eyes gentle and her voice calm yet powerful. “Please take your time,” she added, and finally, I started moving.
The exhibition showcased watercolor paintings, with several beautiful and transparent artworks lined up. I stopped to admire them.
The first painting depicted a boy and a girl happily eating croquettes. In the background, a butcher stood, and the boy and girl relished their croquettes wrapped in white paper.
The second painting portrayed two individuals gazing up at a tree abundant with leaves. However, there was a peculiar aspect to this artwork. The green, youthful leaves grew so densely that they formed a protective canopy, almost like a roof. Although the painting conveyed a sense of summer, cherry blossom petals floated down into the shallow river at their feet. A girl gazed upward at the trees, accompanied by a boy standing beside her. A single cherry blossom petal rested in the palm of the boy’s hand.
The third painting captured Kamogawa River and Sanjō Ōhashi Bridge at night. The riverbed provided a quick glimpse of both the river and the bridge. Two people stood, holding coffee mugs, while the blue moonlight shimmered on the flowing Kamogawa River. The lively conversation between the two individuals in a special Kyoto night café seemed to bring them great joy.
The fourth painting showcased Suzumushi Temple. In front of an illuminated Jizo statue, two people stood. The girl held a yellow amulet inscribed with the word happiness, seemingly making a wish. With his hand in his pocket, the boy gazed at the blue moon shining in the night sky.
Lastly, the fifth painting depicted a spring. A girl squatted at the edge of the spring, holding an umbrella upside down and dipping it into the water. Countless stars seemed to gather inside the umbrella. Beside her stood the same boy as before, his eyes filled with gentleness and affection as he observed her side profile illuminated by the blue light.
As I observed the paintings, memories I had tucked away resurfaced, and her artwork intertwined with them. A warm feeling welled in my eyes as I finally found it.
Then, I discovered the sixth large painting in a separate space partitioned by a folding screen panel. Stepping into that space, emotions consumed me, because the world within it was painted in a striking blue hue. A stunning full moon, depicted on a canvas as tall as me, hovered over a blue spring. A boy, with half his body outside the spring, faced a little girl, but his face remained hidden as he looked backward.
I was drawn closer and examined the girl’s expression. At first glance, it seemed as though she was crying out in pain. But upon closer inspection, tears overflowed from her eyes while her expression remained soft, and she smiled joyfully. A small star adorned her right ear, shining brightly.
Then, my attention shifted to the letters attached to the white space beside the painting. Slowly, I moved my feet and positioned myself before those letters. They revealed the title of this exhibition.
As I read the title, memories flooded my mind, bringing back the gentle and kind words she had spoken after we had purchased a beautiful book from a bookstore in Kyoto.
“The words on this obi are also lovely.”
“Don’t you think these words are meant for one’s destined partner?” she had said, her voice etching itself into my heart.
As her voice echoed in my thoughts, I shifted my gaze toward the exhibition’s title and found myself overcome with emotion. Tears cascaded down my face in a steady stream, but I made no attempt to wipe them away. Instead, I continued to stare at the words before me.
To the one and only you in the world — all the paintings are for you, were the words inscribed there.
“Excuse me,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was expansive, with a slightly alto-tinted tone that stood out among the sopranos. Her voice awakened my senses, and I swiftly wiped away my tears with my arm, turning to face the source. Standing there was a girl with the pen name Seika, written as Hoshi no Hana but pronounced as Seika; it was Saki, who had grown into an adult and become more of an older sister figure to me, yet I could still catch glimpses of the seventeen-year-old girl in her eyes.
She wore a nostalgic star-shaped hair accessory, glistening in her ear, and her large brown eyes trembled as she spoke with a quivering voice.
“Keiichi… is that you?”
I nodded silently.
She took a moment, her gaze shifting downwards, and a tear escaped from her eye. As if she had forgotten how to contain the overflow of emotions, I approached her gently and placed my hand on her head.
“Saki…”
That was all I could manage to say. She kept looking down, her voice barely audible as she murmured toward my sneakers, “Yeah. I’ve been waiting… for a long time.”
I had promised her in the past that I would wait for her in the future, but how long had I made her wait? From the eleven-year-old Saki who had crossed paths with me to the twenty-six-year-old Saki standing before me now…
“I’ve been longing to see you too… for a long time.”
I made a solemn vow to shower her with love from that moment onward, pouring in not just fifteen years’ worth but an abundance of affection. Our past and future had seamlessly intertwined, forever connected.