"Rescue" Final Chapter: The Town of Passage - Author: Lila (36)

The story of "Lila," an author of practical lifestyle books, and the process of making books.

▶Read from the beginning

A bench by the sea

"I'm off!"

The pale purple school bag disappears beyond the door.

"Have a good day..."

The end of my sentence melts into a yawn.
I saw my daughter off in my pajamas with messy hair. I couldn't quite open my eyes.

"Oh, Mom!"

Sakura, who should have already left, popped her head back in.

"I made ham and cheese sandwiches, so eat them with Dad."

The legs extending from her shorts no longer held the traces of her chubby childhood. Just before the door closed, the garden in the background looked as if it were covered in a pale pink mist.

I feel like the blooming season is getting a little earlier every year.

While working full-time, I somehow manage to continue writing on the side.
Since I can only write at night, it's hard to keep up with my daughter's morning-oriented lifestyle, and I struggle to wake up.

Now that she's in elementary school, my daughter has started preparing the things she wants to eat herself.

Bread, cereal, cold ochazuke, bananas, fruit pouches, flavored soy milk... She chooses from the many things I've stocked that don't require fire or knives, depending on her mood that day.
Even though the refrigerator is full of vegetable side dishes I've prepared, it doesn't look like she's touched them.

Today, she even prepared sandwiches for Shusuke and me.
She loves cooking. When I'm able to be by her side, she can make curry or omelet rice all by herself.

Is it wrong for a mother to be like this? The breakfast that someone I don't even know might scold me for is a secret just for our family.

Since entering my thirties, I have begun to learn a little bit of "cunning."

My stance of wanting to be sincere remains unchanged.

But I have come to think that it is okay to choose not to write about certain things.

I am taking a paid day off today.

After I finished getting ready and attached my IC card to my bag, Shusuke, who had just woken up, asked, "Shall I give you a ride?" I shook my head.

"Actually, I want to go by train today."

No matter how old I get, I am still searching for that feeling of encountering a book.

"Oh, but since Sakura went to the trouble of making sandwiches, why don't we eat them outside?"

"That sounds nice."

The wind blowing against us messes up the hair I spent time styling, making it twist and turn like Medusa's. This place, the Kanita district of Sotogahama Town, is called the Town of Wind. It was a morning with a bit of a strong wind, living up to its name.

I watched the waves come in and pull back with a swish, swish sound. The crashing waves left a white border on the sand before quickly disappearing.

Ham and cheese were sandwiched between slices of bread spread with plenty of mayonnaise. We ate in silence together. It was delicious.

Sitting on a bench placed in the shade of a tree, the wind was blowing hard and it was cold. As I pulled the front of my mountain parka together, Shusuke draped his own jacket over my shoulders and asked, "What should we have for dinner?"

"I want to eat something spicy... doesn't that sound like something I'd say? I'd like sundubu. I'll make it."

I answered while sniffling.

"Then I'll be in charge of the namul and the jumeok-bap."

"Won't Sakura say 'That's not fair'? Maybe we can leave the namul to her."

At some point, it became our daily routine to make dinner together.
We had been searching for the perfect division of labor for a long time, but standing in the kitchen together turned out to be a good method.

It was last year that we finally moved out of the detached house at my parents' place, wanting a kitchen that wouldn't feel cramped for two people.
In the meantime, my father passed away, and since I have no other siblings, I ended up becoming the company president.

We moved to a place closer to town and built a house. My mother was sad to see us leave the detached house, so we make sure to see each other once a week.

Shusuke drove me to Kanita Station.

"It feels strange, even though we're going to the same place."

We laughed as we said that, and then we parted ways.

Just as I got out of the car, I saw the train sliding into the station. If I missed this one, the next one wouldn't be for two hours. I went through the ticket gate and ran... I made it.

People boarded the empty train car one by one. I followed them.

Back when I was in high school, there were already plenty of students and adults in suits on board by the time I got on.

The Tsugaru Line beyond Kanita has been suspended ever since it was damaged by heavy rain several years ago.
It was only after I sat down in my seat that I realized this station, which used to be just a point of passage, now holds the position of a starting station.

Many years have passed since I returned to Aomori, and many things have changed.

The train starts to move. I saw Shusuke's Serena pull away as well, confirming that I had made it on board safely.

I arrived at Aomori Station.
Although it was sunny in Sotogahama, a light rain was falling from the hazy, overcast sky.

I wonder if Shusuke will be arriving soon, too.
Whether by train or car, the travel time is not much different. I was pushed out of the station as if swept along by a wave of people.

Glass-walled buildings, a hotel not yet open for business. Brand-new information boards—.
The building where I used to take purikura photos and buy clothes when I was in high school has become a city hall office.

The atmosphere of the station square, too, has changed completely compared to when I was a high school student.

It is strange, no matter how many times I visit, that the entire town has become a different place from the one in my memories. Even though a beautifully reborn town should be convenient, I quicken my pace as if to swallow the faint loneliness that wells up inside me.

While looking up at the somewhat dull Aomori sky, the opening time was approaching.
Before I knew it, I was jogging.

My chest feels tight, and it becomes painful.

I slow down and catch my breath—even so, the heaving of my shoulders did not stop for a while.

Shinmachi Shopping Street

I arrived at Narita Honten. Ten minutes until the shutter opens.

I couldn't wait. The preparations must have already begun.
A faint light was leaking through the gap.

With a pleasant rattling sound, the shutter opened.
Seeing me standing there before opening time, the female clerk wearing red glasses—Mao Sajo—gave a small laugh.

"Rira-sensei, aren't you a bit too early? Would you like to come in?"

I shake my head vigorously.

"I think that would be a bit unfair. I'm fine. I'll wait. I'll check my emails or something!"

"Come to think of it, was Shusuke-san off today?"

"No, I think he'll be heading to work soon. ...I'm glad you seem to be enjoying yourself every day."

Feeling restless, I open my social media.
The envelope icon is glowing red. Even now, I'm afraid to open my DMs.
I swallow hard, tap it, and feel a sense of relief.

" ...Oh, it's just Ryo-kun."

Attached was a selfie with the caption, "Almost at Shin-Aomori!"

No matter how many times it happens, this tension never changes.

I was about to welcome the moment I had dreamed of once again.

The sound of rain echoing quietly hit the arcade roof, making a beautiful sound like a bell. The cars passing on the road looked as if they were shrouded in mist.

Shinmachi Shopping Street stretches for nearly 900 meters, but it is covered by an arcade, protecting it from the rain.

Even so, it was still chilly. A sneeze escaped me.

"It's okay for you to come in now."

I was called out to from behind.

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

I slipped into the shop where the shutters were still partially down. It was probably a few seconds before 10:00 AM.

Inside the bookstore, filled with bright white light, there was no one else but me.

The contours of the world became clearly visible.
Suddenly, my footing felt certain. I hurried toward my destination. Practical living guides. Books on daily life. Books on housework. This must be it.

──Huh, it's not here?

I traced the spines of the books on the shelf without touching them. From left to right. From right to left. I was stunned.

"It's over here."

Mao guided me to the entrance.

There, a sign read "Author from Aomori! Lila-sensei Special Feature Corner," and along with handmade pop-up displays, my books were lined up in a row.

"You walked right past it just a moment ago."

She chuckled.

The latest book was created with Natsume. It has the same title as the blog, "Alchemy of Daily Life."
A pale purple cover, the color of lilac flowers. What is reflected there is—certainly my back.

"...Li, la."

As if scooping water from the surface, I gently traced the author's name.

I hope this book becomes someone's "book of destiny"──. Holding that prayer, I bought the first copy and left the Narita Main Store.

Dazzling light stung my eyes.

During high school, commuting was difficult. That's because there were only a few trains a day. Depending on the time school ended, long, long waiting times would occur.

At times like that, I would wander through the Shinmachi shopping street in front of the station.

There were days when I would take purikura photos with friends or eat ice cream. But I think I often walked a little further from the station to visit the Narita Honten bookstore.

Even just staring blankly at the book spines, time would pass in the blink of an eye.

In those moments, I would occasionally encounter a book of destiny.

Something you can only find when you search without deciding what to buy, it changes your fate as quietly, yet as violently, as if you were drawing a tarot card.

I have been thinking about writing for a long time. And then I wondered: where does what people call my "naivety" come from?
Perhaps it comes from the accumulation of such books—picture books, children's books, or essays.

Books have the power to change the way people live.
Even if you don't remember them, they have the potential to sink quietly into the depths of your heart and influence you.

That is why I always want to experience the thrill of the time spent searching for that book, and I would be happy if I could send out a book of destiny to someone else.

It seems there is still plenty of time before Natsume arrives. I catch my breath and step into a nearby cafe.

I order a cafe latte and sit at a window seat. In Passage Square, a spruce tree stands so tall you have to look up to see the top. It starts to drizzle, creating a polka-dot pattern on the glass.

Once I feel a warm glow inside, I open my email.

There are many, so I start sorting them into folders.

Suddenly, I notice an inquiry from a name I've never seen before.

A proposal for a book adaptation. My heart races.
It was a very polite email. It didn't feel perfunctory; I could sense from every part of the text that this was a person with genuine passion.

"Huh?"

I let out a voice without thinking and looked around.

At the end of the email, there was a postscript added like this.

I thought about my reply, choosing my words carefully, and sent it immediately.

As I sipped my warm cafe au lait, I had goosebumps from being so moved. Could this person, Ms. Tsukioka, be the daughter of 'Noriko,' who often sent me comments and letters?

I can't quite remember her face, but could she be that person who was standing in line with her mother in a sailor uniform?
Feeling grateful for this wonderful connection, I read the email over and over, as if tracing the words.

Lately, I am often approached on social media by people saying, 'I've liked you for a long time.' --A long time ago. It surprises me that days I can remember as vividly as if they were yesterday are already from so long ago.

The monthly ranking for 'mame' has also arrived.
Holding my breath, I gently open the email. My name was in 9th place. I had been able to write columns for mame again starting a few years ago.

I gently tap on the list of contributors.

Next to Chiharu Shiraishi, my face is posted.
The lines of my cheeks have sagged a bit more than back then. There are wrinkles at the corners of my eyes, too. But it is my face, smiling as if it were bright and clear.

On the other hand, Tomo-chan's face is no longer on mame. In fact, I cannot find her anywhere on the web.

Editor in charge

When I suddenly looked up, Natsume was waving at me from beyond the glass window. A silver ring sparkled on her ring finger.
I could tell she was mouthing the words, "Lira-san."

I pointed to the seat next to me where I had placed my bags.

A few years ago. It was when I had restarted my blog and was working on my third book with Natsume.

Tomo-chan got caught in a firestorm.

It was discovered that in the book "Tomo-chan Becomes a Minimalist in 100 Days," released in 2015, she had imitated not only my words but also the words and methods of various other authors.

It all started with a single comment Chiharu Shiraishi posted on social media: "I can't believe someone would steal another person's methods."

Immediately, the hunt for the culprit began. And then someone found a post from the past that compared and pointed out the similarities between Tomo-chan's book and the methods of other authors.

"Have you already been to the Narihon?"

Natsume looks at the bag placed on top of my bag and asks.

"Yeah. I went as soon as the store opened and bought it."

"Whoa. You're so serious."

He claps his hands and laughs heartily.

"I've made all sorts of things, but I really have a special attachment to this book. After all, it's the title of my blog. If you exclude the hiatus, it's been 10 years, hasn't it?"

After that, we talked about work for a while.
We have plans to have dinner at my place with four people today, including Sakura.

"Come to think of it... I wonder how Tomo-chan is doing now."

I let it slip out.
Natsume made a complicated face, but started by saying, "I'll say this now because it's the present."

"I tried looking for her at the company where Shusuke-san used to work."

Natsume said with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"At that time, I overheard something. Tomo-chan... Chikako Hiyama, apparently liked Shusuke-san. --I have something I saved for some reason. ...Uh, where was it?"

Natsume showed me a screenshot of Tomo-chan's first post.

"This 'junior'?"

Natsume raised the end of his sentence mockingly.

"That was probably Shuu-san, wasn't it? I think she saw Shusuke-san at the autograph session and was jealous of you two... that's what I think. Well, it's just my delusion. But I think I'm on the right track."

I had such mixed feelings.
I had always thought of them as someone on the other side of the screen, someone I had no connection to at all. But to think they were so close to me...

“But you know, I don't think it was anything as cute as just liking him. The person I heard the story from said that Tomo-chan misunderstood and thought Shu-san liked her. She even hinted that she would be the next one to have a wedding. So, when she found out Shu-san was getting married, I think she might have hated him for it.”

How selfish could she be?

Did Shusuke really have to be driven to the point of quitting his job over something like that?
Anger began to bubble up inside me.

“Man, I might actually be able to make it as a private investigator.”

Natsume said with a hearty laugh, as if to distract me from my silence.

“Natsume-san... by any chance, did you do something a little... underhanded?”

It wasn't just Chiharu Shiraishi's comment that triggered the backlash against Tomo-chan.
It was an image comparing Tomo-chan's table of contents with books and blogs written by me and other lifestyle book authors.

That post, which I was sure I had seen at the beginning, had later been deleted.

“What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head with an exaggerated look of confusion.

My chest tightened with pain.
Many heartless words had been thrown at Tomo-chan's posts.

"Lira-san, I told you, didn't I? Leave the dirty work to me."

"What are you talking about..."

"Tomo-chan, you ruined Shu-san's life too, didn't you? Isn't it just karma?"

At times like this, I feel a slight distance from Natsume.
Perhaps sensing my subtle reaction, he looked away.

"I think I might be a bit lacking in empathy. So, honestly, I don't really care what happens to Tomo-chan... I just feel indifferent."

I suddenly remembered what Eri had said.
As if anticipating that, Natsume continued.

"Tomo-chan is, honestly, a stranger, isn't she? So it doesn't matter to me. Whether she cries, screams, or disappears. But Lira-chan, and Hiiragi-san... you two are different."

"Ryo-kun..."

The soft light of the spring afternoon outlined Natsume's face in gold.
His lowered eyes were cast in shadow.

"A long time ago... an author I was in charge of, well, she tried to take her own life."

My heart skipped a beat.

"We were close. She was an older woman, and she was very kind to me. I called her Grandma."

Natsume lowered his gaze.

"Whenever I went for meetings, she would always treat me to homemade sweets and meals. But she was troubled by malicious reviews... I was busy, so I told her, 'This is normal once you become famous, so please just endure it.' If I had looked at her face while we talked, I might have realized how desperate she was."

"And that person..."

"Fortunately, she survived. She lives quietly now. I go to check on her from time to time."

The words "let's talk face-to-face," which he had repeated so many times, suddenly landed with heavy weight.

"My grandma was even less well-known than you were when we first met, Lira. So, I suppose the full story of what happened isn't widely known. Ever since then, I've been careful not to get too close to authors... I've made a point of showing my unvarnished personality, the kind that tends to make people dislike me. After all, if you don't get close to them, you can stay detached, right?"

Natsume's words dissolved quietly into the bustle.

"You're a bit too serious, Lira, but that's exactly why no one can pull the rug out from under you unless they fabricate something. It'll be fine. Let's just keep at it, step by step. Let's write another good book next time, too."

Natsume said this forcefully, as if to change the mood of the room.

The Transit Town

The next morning, Sakura insisted on coming to see him off, but she had school. Shusuke and I saw Natsume off as he headed back to Tokyo.

"I'll send you some Stamina-gen sauce."
"Make sure to invite me to the wedding."

At our words, Natsume's eyes widened slightly, and he smiled.

It's rare to become friends with an editor.
But I felt that Natsume and we, as a couple, would likely maintain a connection beyond just work from here on out.

Even if I couldn't continue writing sequels.

Since he had come by car, he had to return separately from Shusuke, who was heading straight to work. I decided to take the train home. I checked my watch.

There was still an hour until the next train. I wasn't in the mood to stop by a cafe today.

I headed toward Aomori Station.
To Hachinohe, to Hirosaki, and to Kanita—the departure times for trains heading to various destinations were displayed on the electronic bulletin board.

I board the stationary Tsugaru Line train.
There is still plenty of time before departure, and there is almost no one around.

I straighten my back and sit up properly.
I take my own book, which I bought just yesterday, out of my bag.

The scent of the new book tickled my nose, mingling with the mellow spring air blowing in from a door someone had left open.

Beyond the train window, many tracks lie side by side. They stretched straight into the distance, never crossing one another.

You cannot see much of the natural scenery from the platform.
However, I know that once the train begins to glide, there is definitely damp soil from the melting snow and buds beginning to swell on both sides of the tracks.

I squinted, feeling just a little bit of glare.

The place I am in now is not the goal. It is a point of passage.

Writing is surely similar to that feeling.

As long as I am alive, I will continue to write, on and on.

"Rescue" (End)

Click here for the afterword.