Beyond the Pier | Shirokuma Literature Club

Cherry blossom petals had fallen all the way to the harbor.
The deep blue surface of the early spring sea was sparkling.
I had grown so used to the scent of the tide that it no longer reached my nostrils. Was the strangely sweet scent I felt actually the scent of spring itself?

Cherry blossoms on remote islands bloom just a little earlier than on the mainland.
That is because the Tsushima Current, a warm current, flows along both sides of the island.
On a hill overlooking the harbor, there is a shrine where people pray for a good catch.
The ancient tree standing in the shrine grounds shed its petals like snow every time the wind blew.
She appeared at the pier on a red BROMPTON.
Dressed in light early spring clothing, she wore a red leather headgear. The BROMPTON was fully loaded with luggage in the front and back.
“You really did come.”
I nodded, out of breath.
Even though I hadn't been told.
I just had to come to this place at this moment.
“I really loved this island and that sea.”
She said that, casting her gaze into the distance.
Even though I had heard her voice many times before, it sounded somehow like the words of a traveler.
“Where are you going next?”
When I asked, she smiled just a little and replied only, “Somewhere far away.”
I didn't ask any more than that. I couldn't.
She hadn't told me about this departure date either.
But on a remote island, there is no way to keep secrets. I heard that she had already finished packing and had sent her luggage via the island ferry.
The only thing left was the red BROMPTON. I thought she would fold up her beloved bike, load it onto the ferry, and head to that far-off place.
“Can I have a go for the last time?”
I borrowed her beloved bike and rode it once around the pier. The small wheels lightly crushed the fallen petals.
“Hey, does this suit me?”
I called out while pedaling.
“Yeah, it always did.”
That “always” was already in the past tense.
Cherry blossom petals were carried by the wind toward the sea.
I pulled up in front of her and braked to a stop. This red BROMPTON, the only one of its kind on this island.

The ferry's whistle blew as if to hurry her along.
I could see the ship slowly entering the port from the corner of the distant island silhouette.
“Well then...”
She said, taking back her bike and raising her hand.
In the end, I swallowed my words until the very last moment.
I couldn't bring myself to say, “I'll come to see you again.”

The cherry blossom season passed by in a rush.
But that red BROMPTON still appears in my dreams from time to time.