Short Story: Fireworks of a Distant Day

◉ Wind-Blown Literature Club [Sound of Distant Fireworks] Entry

My hearing has gotten worse. Even though my grandchild speaks to me in a loud voice, I find myself asking them to repeat themselves over and over. My daughter scolds me when the TV volume is too high, and even when I go to the hospital, the doctor just laughs and says, "It's age-appropriate."
Still, strangely enough, there is a sound I can hear clearly only on summer nights. It is the sound of distant fireworks.
As Obon approaches, I sit on the veranda and gaze at the mountains to the west. I wait, thinking, "It should be soon now."

My grandchild sat down next to me.

"Grandma, what are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for the fireworks to go off."

"Fireworks? Where?"

I smile.

"Over there, beyond those mountains."

My grandchild tilts their head in the direction I am pointing.

Beyond the western mountains, which are now a dam reservoir, there used to be a small hot spring town. On the day of the summer festival, the inns would be overflowing with guests in yukata, stalls would line the streets, and children would run about.
At night, fireworks would go off, too. I loved those fireworks... no, that's not quite right. There was something I loved even more than the fireworks.

"Hurry, hurry!"

Ken-chan pulls my hand, laughing.

"We won't make it in time for the final blast."

"Don't pull so hard."

Seeing me walking out of breath, Ken-chan laughs like a child. I loved that time—the path we walked while looking at that smile, heading toward the fireworks.
The town sank to the bottom of the dam. Ken-chan passed away before me, too. It has been decades since then, but I no longer count the years.
Even so, on the night of Obon, I sometimes hear it.

—Boom!

The sound of distant fireworks. No one believes me. My daughter laughs and says, "It's just your imagination." My grandchild strains their ears, but they hear nothing.
That is fine. That sound is surely not one heard with the ears, but a sound of summer that remains deep in my heart.
Today, I sit on the veranda again. The western mountains are dyed in the sunset, and the wind blows across the garden.

—Boom!

I heard it again today. I can't help but smile.

"Ken-chan, we made it in time again this year."

I close my eyes. My younger self is there. Holding down the sleeves of my yukata, I walk up the slope, and Ken-chan, walking ahead, turns back.

"Come on, hurry up."

"Wait for me."

"We'll miss the final blast."

The same voice as that day. The same smile as that day. I stand up slowly.

"Ken-chan, sorry to have kept you waiting."

The sound of the distant fireworks could no longer be heard. I turned toward the western mountains and smiled softly.
Surely, within a few more years, I will be able to watch them by his side.