Searching for a Salad That Won't Make Me Lonely <Episode 7>

Since tomorrow is Saturday, I suppose there will be more parents and children around. Thinking that I might be radiating an 'unapproachable' aura, I handed my entry permit to Shibata-san, the security guard, and as I exited through the employee entrance, Yamane-kun's younger sister was there, having turned off her motorcycle engine, waiting aimlessly.

I thought about telling her that her brother would be coming down soon, but I stopped myself, fearing I might get nervous while worrying that even saying that much might be seen as annoying.

Besides, if she didn't know I was his colleague, she would definitely look at me with suspicion. I was bewildered by my own hesitation over whether to speak or not. I wanted to blame 'her'—that 'lonely lady' from before—for the fact that this strange feeling, or emotion, was taking root and lingering within me.

When I left that place and started walking, the sound of a motorcycle and the voice calling out 'Good work, Shibuya-san!' rode past me on the wind.

When I turned around at the voice calling 'Good work, Shibuya-san!', I saw the back of Yamane-kun, who was straddling his motorcycle, and he was waving his left hand in a goodbye gesture. It might seem strange that I was drawn into it, but I replied with as much voice as I could muster, 'Good work!'

At that very moment, a drunken man stared at me intently and teased, 'It's nice to be young,' right in front of the noren curtain of 'Hitokuchi Gyoza Min-chan'.

Usually, depending on my mood, I would have fiercely ignored him, thinking, 'You're annoying, old man.' But for some reason, at that moment, I wrapped my embarrassment in a thick layer of sugar-coating in my heart and, without feeling any slight hatred for the drunk man, I gently smiled and brushed it off, saying, 'Yes, you're right, it is nice to be young.'

Even Yamane-kun, who usually would be shy and only glance at me even if he noticed me, greeted me today. Surely, Yamane-kun must have been influenced by that lonely lady as well.

We were completely surrounded.

Yes, I thought I had to tell Toru about this, and I carelessly reached into my bag for my smartphone like I used to, then suddenly realized.

Oh, Toru isn't in this world anymore, I thought, and felt a little deflated.

It's terrifying. It is truly terrifying that someone you loved is no longer in this world. I can't even report the funny things that happened to me.

Unable to bear the feeling that the proof of Toru's absence was right here, I hurried through the downtown area.

At the flower shop under 'No Mark,' I could see young housewives and elegant-looking ladies who seemed to carry a faint, cool scent, choosing flowers.

Every time I entered that flower shop, I felt a chill on my skin, as if I were opening a refrigerator in an air-conditioned room.
I had visited it twice with Toru.
The entrance to the shop is the same as the outside, so it's fine, but once you open the automatic door, you feel like you're inside a refrigerator, and I naturally find myself rubbing my arms.

Seeing that, Toru would ask if I was cold. When I nodded, he would tell me to go over there while he picked out flowers, so I would end up wandering around the 'No Mark' floor. Because of that, my wardrobe is decorated with several cardigans, scarves, colored tights, and over-blouses that I didn't really want. All of these were byproducts of Toru's flower shopping. Even though I didn't like them that much back then, I now feel like I loved them dearly and can't bring myself to throw them away.

Suddenly, I noticed he was holding two potted Pachira plants.

Why are you buying two of the same thing? Is one a spare? 'No,' Toru replied, pointing at me. 'One is mine, and the other is for Shiori-chan.'

Don't call me Shiori-chan in such a loud voice. It's embarrassing.

But because of his death, the two plants were eventually delivered to my room by the shop staff. And after that, because I was consumed by grief, I let those Pachira plants wither.

The reason Toru came to like houseplants was probably because of Leon. The movie 'Leon.' Jean Reno played a hitman who lived with a little girl named Mathilda, the sole survivor of her family's murder, and innocently responded to the girl's burning desire for revenge. They carefully raised a single houseplant. They were together even when they were on the run. I remember that when they walked down the street, the girl would walk fast, desperate to keep up with the adult man, and a small houseplant would sway under Mathilda's arm.

Perhaps Leon was raising that plant thinking it was Mathilda. In case he ever lost Mathilda, he would love that plant instead. I loved the Toru who loved Leon.

When we were talking about that movie, Toru suddenly whispered words that sounded like a magic spell.

"Aglaonema nitidum Curtisii"

When I asked, "What? What was that?" Toru looked a little smug.

I learned then that it was the name of the houseplant the two of them had been carefully raising in Leon.

That day, Toru had said, almost to himself, that he wanted to run a flower shop someday after he quit his current job. "The faces of people buying flowers are all smiling, you know. The customers at <Green Thumb> are all smiling. I want to do a job like that so badly."

Since I still can't remember the names of the plants that appear in Leon, I have written the name on a piece of paper, folded it into quarters, and tucked it away in the card case inside my wallet, where no one else will ever touch it.

"Aglaonema nitidum Curtisii"

When I returned to my apartment and opened the balcony window, the leaves of the maidenhair fern sitting in front of the writing bureau swayed. It felt as if the cluster of leaves had suddenly become talkative, as if releasing all the time they had spent in silence until now. Just by swaying in the wind. I went out onto the small balcony and watched the taillights running along the highway.

A river of light like a tail flowed somewhere, blurring as it went. Suddenly, I felt as if Toru might be somewhere in that flowing river of light, and I slowly began to feel lonely. I returned to my room just as the music from a car stereo was heard at high volume, then suddenly cut off and passed by. Between the gray refrigerator and the yellow two-seater sofa that looked like a bus seat, there was a small coffee table. On it were two photographs. One was of my beloved grandparents who had raised me. I remember that after one of the memorial services, my grandfather patted my head until my hair was a mess. When his slightly rough fingers stroked my hair, I fell into a sensation as if something hot and indescribable had passed through the nape of my neck, traveled down my spine, and stopped at my tailbone. It was like the feeling of being on the verge of tears. When Toru came to visit this room, he looked at their photos and said they looked kind and warm. Even though the photos were right there, he looked at them with such a distant gaze that I felt uneasy. Seeing that, I fell silent like a calm sea. "What's wrong, Shiori?" Don't die, not before me. I didn't say it out loud, but I was filled with that thought. Don't die. Definitely not before me. I was filled with the desire to think that way. I held onto those words forever as I looked at Toru's profile. Remembering what Yotsuba-san said today, I look next to my grandparents. A photo of Toru alone, looking a bit grumpy as if to say, "Don't take pictures without asking." I won't cry for Toru. I will never cry. I muttered that to myself. In the background, the sign for <Green Thumb> was faintly visible in the distance.

When Toru died, he was deeply present within me. His presence gave me comfort. Lately, I've been rejected many times. He's not here? I see, he's not here. Lately, I've been vaguely feeling it. That Toru's presence is becoming more and more distant within me.