Project Novel | Please Do Not Bind Me #AmanoWritingClub (1400 characters)

The spring breeze was mixed with the smoke of the train.
Cherry blossom petals drifted over the tracks.
Beyond them, I saw the back of that person.
The back of his deep gray overcoat was about to disappear from sight.

He was the only painter in this town, and the one who taught me how to paint. Back when the shadows of the war still lingered in the distance, we would hold our brushes in the old Western-style mansion on the outskirts of town almost every day. He was more particular than anyone about painting light.

"One who does not know shadows cannot paint light"—that was his favorite saying.

Now, that person is going to Tokyo. He is heading to the capital after being selected for the Imperial Exhibition. Even though it should have been a joyous occasion, the depths of my heart felt strangely quiet and cold.

"…So you are leaving."

I managed to say that with great effort. He turned around slowly and gave a faint smile.

"Yes. My dreams are waiting for me."

As he said this, he held down the brim of his hat to shield it from the wind. That gesture was exactly the same as it had always been. When my sketchbook was blown away by the wind on the way back from sketching, he had held his hat in the same way. Back then, I was still a young girl, and I thought the smell of paint was the smell of dreams.

"Congratulations."

My voice sounded calmer than I had expected. I think I was smiling to hold back my tears. Seeing that smile, he lowered his eyes slightly.

"You are… strong."
"That is not true. If I cry, it will trouble you, won't it? That is why I just want to keep smiling."

When I said that, his expression wavered for just a moment. The spring light slanted in, softly illuminating his profile.

"I liked that about you."

The word "liked" stung a little. But for now, I wanted to accept those words honestly. Because it was the first time he had ever told me he liked something about me.

"Hey."

I stepped a little closer. Pushed by the wind, my hem brushed against the back of his hand.

"Even without you, I will be fine."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I will see you off here."
"…With a smile?"
"Yes. With a smile."

He nodded slowly, as if to carve those words into his heart.

"Actually, it would be easier if you cried."
"Then your back would feel heavier, wouldn't it?"
"You are too kind."

His voice trembled slightly. He knew that I would remain smiling. And he surely knew how painful that smile was.

The train whistle blew.
White smoke rose slowly and dissolved into the wind. The station platform became noisy. The time for departure had come. He took off his glove and took my hand. His cold fingertips were trembling just a little. It was the same hand that had praised my sketches for the first time all those years ago. I had loved this hand ever since then.

"Thank you."
"Thank you, too. …Take care."

Exchanging only those words, he smiled. It was the same slightly shy smile he had had since he was a child. I felt that many words were hidden within that smile.

Words like "I love you," "I don't want to leave," and the goodbye that could not be said.

The train begins to move. The sound of the wheels echoes, and the world drifts away. I smiled. Straight at him. Without shedding a tear. Hoping that smile would remain in his heart.

He watched me until the very end. From beyond the window, I saw his lips move slightly. In a voice so small it was almost drowned out by the sound of the wind, he said this.

"Please, please do not bind me."

The whistle blew, and his figure vanished behind the smoke. I stood there, still smiling. The spring breeze brushed against my cheeks. It felt just like the warmth of his fingertips.

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