'How could my supposed romantic rival turn out to be an elderly lady? Why on earth am I, suspecting her of being my rival in love, walking by the lakeside on this breezy evening with her?' Hana wondered what the old lady might want to discuss with her, feeling an odd sense of calm.
Mrs. Kishi seemed to deliberate for quite a while before she finally spoke. Her first sentence was, "I deeply loved my husband, and although he has been gone for decades, I still hold that love and miss him dearly. On this matter, Jun and I are the same."
She turned her head, offering an apologetic smile to Hana. "I came to the farm this evening and heard some disturbing remarks from Tadashi. I was worried it might affect your marriage, which I know hasn't been easy. I didn't want to add to your troubles, so I come to speak with you. In fact, I've wanted to meet you for quite some time."
Hana asked, "Do you know me?" She recalled that Mrs. Kishi had recognized her on sight.
Mrs. Kishi slowly said, "Yes, I've seen your picture; Jun has talked about you to my husband and me."
"My husband and I were in the same college with Jun. Many years ago, when we were young, we taught in the same place, and that's how we became acquainted."
"Back then, my husband and I were newlyweds, sharing the same ideals and passions. We met Jun in the northern area. He was alone, unlike anyone else. When we first met him, he wasn't in great shape—thin and burdened with heavy thoughts. We took good care of him, and he affectionately called us 'brother' and 'sister'."
Hana had heard from Airi that Jun had spent several years teaching when he was young, but Airi wasn't very clear on the details, having only mentioned it briefly. Now, seeing Mrs. Kishi's readiness to delve into the story, Hana listened intently.
Mrs. Kishi, noticing her attentiveness and with a soft gaze, said, "Initially, we didn't know Jun well, so we were unaware of his circumstances. As we got closer, we tried to cheer him up, but Jun, normally so easy to talk to, would never discuss this particular issue."
"He was a man of deep convictions, and sometimes such determination is not a blessing. Being too fixated on something can lead to a life of great suffering," Mrs. Kishi said with a distant and profound look in her eyes. "That year, our teaching location was struck by an earthquake. The mountain collapsed, and subsequent torrential rains caused mudslides. The village was nearly wiped out, and my husband died in that catastrophe."
"The three of us were trapped in the collapsed mountain for what felt like an eternity. My husband had been injured by a falling rock and couldn't hold on after three days, quickly... he passed away in that dark cave. I nearly went mad, nearly followed him in death, but before he died, he urged me to survive and escape because I was pregnant. He wanted our child to be born and to see this world. Because of this, I tried my best and made it through."
"Out of the three of us, only Jun was calm. Rather than calm, it was more like he didn't care about life or death as we did. During those days waiting for rescue, upon my husband's prodding, Jun spoke of you for the first time."
"He shared with us the first time he saw you, how he transferred schools later and still often thought of that girl who appeared so suddenly, how happy he was to see you again when he went to meet a prospective date for his cousin, how he asked for your number but was too scared to call, your first date, every date thereafter, meeting his parents, getting married, and the many things that happened after your marriage. The words you said, the things you did, he recounted them all, a great many things."
"When he spoke of the day you suddenly disappeared, never to be found again, we both heard him cry. I've known him for so many years and only saw him cry twice, once when he spoke of you, and the other at his parents' funeral. He never shed a tear through all the hardships, not when his early work was plagiarized and he lost the lawsuit, not when he broke his leg protecting a student on a trip. It's truly like they say, 'A man doesn't easily shed tears, only when he reaches the depth of heartbreak.'"
"That time, I owe him my gratitude. It was he who persisted until the end, carrying my barely alive body and my husband's remains out. Our entire family is thankful to him." Mrs. Kishi reached this point with tears glistening in her eyes."
Wiping away the tears that had spilled from her eyes, she told Hana, "Jun's deep and singular love for you is without question, you must believe that."
"...I know," Hana felt a coldness on her face; Mrs. Kishi sighed softly and dabbed at the tear streaks on her face with a handkerchief.
Two women, one older and one younger, stood by the lakeside, their hearts aching for the man they had loved years ago.
"Over the years, Jun has taken great care of us, probably leading to misunderstandings, and he's not one to explain himself. For so many years, he's been busy with his academics and research, coming and going; few people who know him know about you, because he doesn't talk about it. But I know, the one in one's heart is never forgotten, just as I can't forget my love."
Hana suddenly said, "I asked him, after waiting so many years, if he felt sadness, and he just smiled and shook his head. I never knew what he really thought. Can you tell me?"
Mrs. Kishi tenderly patted her hand, "You haven't waited for decades, so you don't understand. It's a feeling beyond the power of words, too complex to be conveyed. Can you imagine, being alone, day and night, constantly thinking of someone who'd gone too soon to even say goodbye? Whether it's longing or sorrow, happiness or grief, all these emotions are mixed together, every flavor there is, layer upon layer pressing on the heart. How can one simply speak of it?"
Hana felt something heavy lodged in her own chest at that moment.
When Mrs. Kishi said goodbye, her daughter came to pick her up, supporting her as they walked away by the lakeside. Hana watched the mother and daughter, tall and short, leaning on each other, their shadows elongated under the streetlights. For an instant, she thought of a line she had read somewhere:
—"その花は,最終的に愛する人が通らない暗い夜にしぼんでしまった.(The flower ultimately withers in the night where its lover will never pass)."
...
Jun extricated himself from a gathering of friends and returned to the room, only to find Hana already in bed, her face covered by the blanket, with just a streak of black hair visible. Jun instinctively quieted his steps. He turned off the light and sat on his bed, gazing at Hana's silhouette as she lay on her side.
After watching silently in the darkness for a while, he lifted his hand to remove his jacket and slipped under the covers.
But before long, the blanket on Hana's bed was flung aside, and she, with her hair all tousled, sat up and walked over to Jun's bed. She pulled his blanket back and lay down next to him, startling the not-yet-fully-asleep Jun, who instantly became alert and turned on a wall lamp.
Bathed in the warm, dim orange glow of the light, he saw his wife's head nestled against his chest. She was motionless, silent, holding onto his neck.
Jun, with a mix of amusement and embarrassment, and not knowing what had come over Hana, could only ask her softly, "What's wrong?"
Hana ignored him, appearing as if she were asleep, all set to just sleep through like that. But Jun couldn't sleep. Held in her embrace, he lifted a hand and after a moment's hesitation, gently placed it on Hana's back, patting her as one would soothe a child, "Are you feeling unwell, hmm?"
Soon, Jun felt his shirt getting damp at the chest. Now truly alarmed, he reached out to touch Hana's forehead, asking her anxiously, "Why are you crying? What happened? Did someone say something to you?"
Hana didn't respond, but her crying grew louder.
Jun was accustomed to her cheerful demeanor, but since her return this time, she had cried several times, and this unexpected sobbing while clinging to him made his heart race with fear.
The old gentleman was at a loss, sighing deeply. Whenever he moved, Hana cried even louder, leaving him no option but to pat his wife's back in a futile attempt to comfort her.
"There, there, it's alright now."
Hana's crying was so loud that it might have been heard in the next room. Before long, someone knocked on the door. Hana silently buried herself under the blanket, and Jun hurried to answer. The friend at the door spoke tactfully, "If there's an issue, you and your wife should talk it through. Don't argue, Jun, be gentle with your wife, okay?"
Jun felt wronged but showed no sign of defending himself, simply nodding in agreement. After closing the door, he sat on the bed edge, grabbed a tissue, and thought to lift the blanket.
Hana clutched the blanket, preventing him from doing so.
Jun said, "Hey, don't wipe your tears with the blanket."
Hana flung the blanket aside and said with a raspy voice, "Who said I was wiping with the blanket?"
With a smile, Jun seized the moment to gently wipe her face.
After looking her over for a moment, Jun asked, "Did someone say something to you?"
Hana: "Mhm."
Jun: "Are you angry with me?"
Hana: "If I were angry with you, I'd make you cry, not be hugging you crying myself."
Hearing this, Jun felt a laugh building up but feared it might actually anger Hana, so he restrained himself. Gently he asked, "Do you still feel like crying now?"
Hana: "…"
Jun understood, "So, not crying means we can sleep?"
Hana watched as Jun walked towards the other bed, thinking this marriage and the old man were both nearing their end.
She was sitting on Jun's bed, cracking her knuckles with a pop, when Sato Sensei went to her bed and brought her blanket over.
Meeting Hana's gaze, he said, "One blanket is too small, might not cover well."
Hana relaxed her fingers, thinking, 'Good, not over yet. I can still save the marriage."
Hana lay down, watching as Jun arranged the blanket and laid down beside her.
"Should I turn off the light?"
"Mhm."
With the light turned off, Hana rested her head against Jun's shoulder, feeling that the heart which had been twitching since hearing Mrs. Kishi's words finally settled down. But just then, she felt Jun's body tremble, and then tremble again. Puzzled, she asked, "What's wrong?"
She heard Jun's laughter.
Hana: "...Why are you laughing?"
Jun had been so preoccupied with worry and heartache upon seeing his wife cry like that, but now the image of her with the blanket flung back, showing an expression so rarely seen on her, struck him as funny. The more he thought about it, the harder it became to suppress his laughter.
Hana: "Enough already, what are you actually laughing at? Are you laughing at me?"
Jun, struggling to calm his laugh and with a strong sense of self-preservation, answered: "I'm not laughing at you."