Without Being Able to Say 'Welcome Home'

— Even though I knew he wouldn't come back, I kept waiting anyway —

The iron bench in the corner of the garden is completely rusted. It used to be black and felt cool when you sat on it, but now it's rough to the touch and leaves red dust on your hands.

I sit there sometimes. When I sit here, I can't help but remember. Remember Wataru.

"When autumn comes, let's go somewhere far away."

He used to say things like that often. He would say something detached from reality with a straight face. I would always laugh and ask, "Can we really afford that?" but in truth, I believed him just a little bit.

Back then, things were still okay. The war was going on, but I never thought it would get this bad. Men disappeared from town, rations kept shrinking, and it became normal for sirens to wail at night. And then, it came for Wataru, too. That one piece of paper decided everything.

The day before he left, Wataru said, just like in the old days, "I'm going for a walk." I just answered, "Okay." There was no reason left to stop him.

Wataru went to the air corps in Kyushu. A few letters arrived. They were all short, and he didn't write anything unnecessary. But I understood. "I'm doing dive training now." That one line was enough. That's what that means, isn't it?

Officially, it's considered voluntary, but that's as good as non-existent. It's not an atmosphere where you can refuse. Everyone knows what happens if you do.

One day, he came back just once. When I saw him after so long, Wataru was incredibly thin. His cheeks were sunken, his hands were bony, and I was a little shocked. "There's not enough food at all," he said with a laugh, though.

I cooked the little bit of rice I had saved. It was supposed to be my portion, but I served it all. The face he made while eating, saying "This is delicious," was somehow the same as it used to be, and that, conversely, was painful.

At night, after we turned off the light, Wataru said quietly, "...I'm scared." For a moment, I couldn't say anything. "But, I can't run away, can I?" The way he said it, it wasn't to me, but as if he were telling himself. I just stayed by his side. I couldn't even hold his hand, but I didn't want to let go, either.

On the day of his departure, the sky was unusually blue. People of the same age were lined up at the base. I could tell everyone was forcing a smile.

One by one, they went to their planes. When it was Wataru's turn, he looked at me. "Call my name." I hadn't expected him to say that, so I was a little confused. But I called it immediately. "Wataru." I think my voice was trembling. I called it again. "Wataru." I called it over and over again.

Wataru nodded slightly, then climbed into the cockpit. The sound of the engine grew louder, the wind whipped up, and dirt swirled. The plane rose straight into the sky.

I watched the whole time. Until it became small, until it became a dot, until it disappeared from sight.

I knew he wouldn't come back.

The paper that arrived later had the date, time, location, and a little bit about the war results. That was all. There were no remains, nothing left behind. All that exists is the memory.

On the day the war ended, I was in the garden. I didn't really understand the voice on the broadcast. But the fact that "it was over" came through.

Then, what was it all for? That is the only thing that keeps catching in my heart.

Wataru never returned, yet the world kept moving on. That was the reality.

Many years have passed since then. The town slowly returned to normal, food became readily available again, and everyone moved forward. But I was different. Time remained frozen at that day.

I sit on the bench. It creaks. When I am alone, I always remember. The voice from that night. The voice that said, 'I'm scared.' The back from that morning. The face when you turned around. That shadow that vanished into the sky.

'I think of you when I'm alone.' That is all that remains.

When the cherry blossoms begin to bloom, I think about it every year. What if there hadn't been a war? What if Wataru hadn't gone? But there's no point in thinking about such things. What doesn't come back, doesn't come back.

Even so, I am here. Sitting on this bench, looking at the same scenery.

Before I knew it, I had grown quite old, too. My hands are covered in wrinkles, and I walk a little slower. Yet, strangely, I remember. The color of the sky that day, and your voice, clearly.

I don't try to forget. But it's not that I can't forget, either. It's just that it doesn't fade. Thoughts of you.

Surely, it will be like this. Until the moment I draw my last breath, I will be thinking of you.

In the evening, the wind blows. Sometimes, I feel like someone is sitting next to me. Of course, there is no one there. Still, I find myself saying it.

'Welcome home.'

Even though there is no way there could be an answer. Still, this one phrase will never fade away, until the very end.