Chapter 21: 20

Chapter 20:

Her Dream

Shirakisawa Honoka had a dream.

The season was late autumn. The place, the one room apartment she rented in Saitama City.

An alarm, shrill enough to pierce her ears, reverberated throughout the room. Forcefully expelled from the depths of sleep, her consciousness still trapped in between the dreaming and waking worlds, she extended her hand towards the cell phone that continued to make that awful noise.

Turning off the alarm, she pulled just her face out from under the covers. Only a gentle ray of morning light slipped through the gap between the blinds.

She wasn’t quite sleep-deprived really, but her eyelids and body still felt so heavy. “Mmm, five more minutes,” she said, sleepily. Pulling the blanket back up, she squinted her eyes at the morning sun. She gazed at the screen of her cell phone, and just as she reassured herself that it was still quite early, she bolted upright.

 

“I forgot. I decided to get up thirty minutes early from now on,” she muttered to no one in particular as she crawled out of bed.

 

She headed straight for the bathroom, still in her pajamas. She hurriedly brushed her teeth, then wincing at the freezing cold water, she wiped her face with a towel.

After stuffing a slice of bread in the toaster oven, she threw open her closet. This should do it, she thought, and taking out a white blouse and a knee-length skirt, she changed out of her pajamas.

Standing in front of her full-length mirror, she checked her appearance from several different angles, then plugged in her curling iron.

The real challenge began once she sat in front of the mirror. She stared at her reflection.

She had never really bothered with make-up. She was quite convinced that her skills were insufficient in that realm. But she tried to put her resolution into words, telling herself, “I’ll do my best.” She had always been teased by her friends, who told her, “You have good features. Put on some makeup so they don’t go to waste.” And so today she would finally follow their advice. That’s why she got up so early in the first place—she knew it would take her longer than most people to put on make-up.

She carefully brushed her hair. Checking that the iron had heated up, she firmly curled the ends under.

Just as she laid out her make-up tools with a groan, the toaster oven gave a beep, but she didn’t have the time to pay it any mind. She let it be, with no care for her toast growing cold, and staring only at the mirror,  continued her losing battle. She first blended the primer onto her skin, then applied the foundation on top of that. She didn’t intend to put on any heavy make-up or anything… or rather, she didn’t have the skill for anything like that. She aimed for a natural look, that wouldn’t push her beyond her limits.

Her hands shook from nerves as she applied the eyeshadow. Selecting a pink lipstick, she applied it to both her bottom and upper lips, finishing her look.

Maybe it would be better to wear contacts, since I can’t see much while putting on make-up? She considered the idea while putting on the familiar black-rimmed glasses.

But no… he might not recognize me with contacts. And just when he started to remember me—it would sting if he didn’t recognize me. What to do…I don’t have time to worry about this now—crap, the time!

Feeling suddenly rushed, she checked the clock to see that it was still before seven. Phew. Still got time. She stood after checking herself in the mirror one last time.

 

Biting down on the cold and floppy piece of toast, she flew out of her room with her key in hand. She tapped her toes against the floor to slip on her loafers, and the rhythm synced with the racing pulse of her heart.

Her face felt flushed. An unconscious smile graced her lips. Would her neighbors in the apartment complex be creeped out if they saw her?

She looked up at the sky as she opened the door. The clouds weren’t particularly thick today, but the whole surface of the sky was covered in a thin, gray haze. She couldn’t see even a hint of blue. A somewhat chilly breeze blew. The weather looks iffy, Honoka judged, and ducked into her apartment once more. She slipped on a heavy hoodie and a scarf. It’s already October. Don’t want to catch a cold.

Holding onto the rusted handrail, she rushed down her apartment stairs. Panting, she ran down the road at full speed to her bus stop. While running, she glanced at her wristwatch. Still got ten minutes, she confirmed.

Here at last she allowed herself to catch her breath and slowed her pace. Descending down the gentle slope of the road, she approached a largish intersection. Crossing the street, she continued on straight ahead, until the small shopping district came into view. Right in the middle of that was the bus stop she used everyday to get to school.

Taking out the hand mirror from a pouch, she gave her reflection one last, final check.

Laying a hand against her chest as if to soothe her pulse, still racing from nerves, she stood at the end of the line at the bus stop. She waited there for several minutes, unable to settle down. At last, her usual city bus arrived.

The bus was painted in two colors, green and white. Grabbing a ticket as she stepped on, she immediately checked the back of the driver’s head.

 

Yes! It was Osakabe-san!

 

She mentally raised her arms in celebration.

Right away her pulse, which she had finally gotten under control earlier, started to accelerate once more. Her breathing almost embarrassingly heavy, she sat down in the front seat diagonally opposite the driver. This spot was her special seat. Thank goodness it was also free today.

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Her resolution to get up early every morning from now on, all that effort she put into putting on make-up, fretting everyday about whether she should switch to contacts, every peek in the mirror to check her appearance. All of it—every last thing—was for him.

His name—Osakabe Kengo. The driver Honoka met on the bus she took to school every day. She learned his name right away from the nametag displayed at the front of the bus.

The man with his hair hanging in front of his face, had a mild-mannered air. He seemed to be in his mid- to late-twenties. I bet he looks older than he actually is, Honoka thought, but his eyes are beautiful, and look so kind. It’s best if I keep these observations to myself—this will be my secret.

The first time they met was on Honoka’s first day at the junior college, the day of the entrance ceremony.

Her mother was a fussy person—or in other words, she could get quite anxious. When Honoka announced that she would leave Iwate to go to a junior college in Saitama, she had vehemently opposed the decision. Because her twin sister had gotten into a university in their hometown, she opposed it all the more.

Even now, Honoka had no real dreams for the future. It sounded nice to say she was still searching for her dreams for the future, but really, if pressed, she couldn’t deny that she had simply wanted to try living in the big city. Which is exactly why she had to prove she could make it on her own. She promised herself she’d maintain her regular routine.

In spite of that… Still heady with the excitement of the city, she had been too excited to sleep until late in the night, and had overslept on her very first day.

She ran as fast as she could, and just as the bus stop came into view, she saw the bus heartlessly began to drive off. No—now I’ll be late… I wanted to at least be on time for the very first day. Just when she gave up, bent over with her hands on her knees, he was the one to stop the bus.

The bus which should have departed, pulled over on the shoulder of the road, and the door opened. Honoka shocked, rushed over.

“You wanted to get on right?” the driver called out.

Honoka, with her mouth agape, could only nod.

“Good thing I stopped then,” the driver said, and gave her an angelic smile.

For a moment, the wind blew.

Even now she still remembered his smile and his kind voice, all at odds with the impression his appearance gave.

Starting the next day, the route she took to school every day was full of vivid colors, even though she could only meet him on the morning bus. She didn’t even know his hobbies or personality, let alone where he lived. Every day she could ride the bus he drove brought a little more life into her world.

It didn’t take long for Honoka to realize, Oh, so this is love at first sight.

 

After the seasons changed, and several months passed, she plucked up a bit of courage.

As she showed her commuter pass as she got off the bus, she tried saying timidly, “Thank you for your hard work.” He didn’t say anything in response, but he raised a hand to the rim of his cap and gave a slight bow.

In her mind, she applauded her own efforts.

The whole day after that, her heart bounced with joy.

She based her whole schedule on greeting him as she got off the bus starting the next day.

When she confided in friends, they teased her relentlessly. “You like that old guy? But there’s so many other cooler, younger guys at school!” they would tell her.

But even Honoka couldn’t understand. Age and style, she could accept that those were elements that one could learn to love over time. But love at first sight was a little different.

Did she need a reason to fall in love? She felt that reasons were both necessary, and yet not necessary at all. Regardless of the reason, I want to treasure my feelings.

And so now, I’m happy just to watch him from behind like this. But as soon as she thought that, she remembered her sister telling her to hurry up and confess.

But how could she confess? There was no way she could tell him directly, face to face, and she didn’t know his email address. If she told him in a letter, then he might think she was some old-fashioned girl… And while those wild thoughts danced around her head, the buildings of her junior college came into view.

Somehow it always felt like she arrived at her destination faster when she just spent the whole ride staring at his face.

This is my stop, but I don’t want to leave yet, she thought with her ticket in hand. Oh well, I have to do my best today. She adjusted her scarf and stood from her seat, and with her left hand soothed her racing heart.

Her trembling right hand held out her commuter pass, and today she gathered up the courage to speak.

 

“Thank you, for all your hard work…!”

 

Impatient with the unshrinking distance between her and Osakabe-san, another day began.

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