Seven years since the Hokkaido Eastern Iburi Earthquake. The carefree, extraordinary day in Chuo-ku, Sapporo.

Thursday, September 6, 2018. Sunny.

I woke up to the ringtone of a LINE call. It was my boyfriend.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice sounding serious right from the start. But I had no idea what he was talking about. As I mumbled sleepily and checked the time, I realized it was well past the time I usually wake up.

The TV, which I usually set to turn on automatically as my alarm every morning, was off. Around this time, it was my morning routine to listen to the “on-chan Ohayo Taiso” and watch the “on-chan Fortune-telling.”
I tried to turn it on with the remote, but it wouldn't respond at all.
When he told me, “There was an earthquake,” I finally realized that the power was out.
“Is it a power outage?” I was still half-doubting.
“I think so,” he replied, sounding just as confused on the other end of the line.

Odori, Chuo-ku, Sapporo, Hokkaido.
Looking around my newly built studio apartment, nothing seemed to have collapsed. My small 18 or 20-inch TV wasn't secured, but it hadn't fallen over either.

But thinking back, I remembered being shaken violently in bed at dawn. Having left my parents' home after being told, “Hokkaido doesn't have earthquakes, so it's safe,” I hadn't looked into it myself and firmly believed that “Hokkaido has no earthquakes.”
So, even though I woke up, I thought, “Oh, this is a dream,” and went back to sleep while it was shaking.

(※When I looked it up properly later, I found that Hokkaido had experienced large earthquakes and tsunamis in the past as well. Since I lived far away, my parents and I probably hadn't paid much attention to news about earthquakes.)

For now, I contacted my manager on LINE.
I lived right behind the office, so I could have gone in, but since I was told to “stay home for now,” I decided not to.
The office probably wouldn't be open anyway.

Once I calmed down, I finally realized I had nothing to eat for breakfast.
Would the convenience store be open?

When I went outside, it was very sunny.
A picture-perfect clear day.
In Hokkaido, the period from summer to autumn is very comfortable. It's dry with no humidity, and the sunlight is about the same as spring in Tokyo (at that time).
I felt glad that it was sunny today.

The Lawson right in front of my house had no power, but it was overflowing with customers.
I don't remember the selection. What did I buy...?
Maybe the sweet breads and rice balls were all gone, or maybe I barely managed to buy some.

There was a line for the register winding through the store. Looking closely, they were actually calculating by hand with a calculator. When a clerk shouted the name of an item from the register, another clerk would run around the store and shout back, “XXX yen!”
I realized the obvious: the power was out, so the register couldn't be used. That's why they had to check the shelves to know the prices of the items.

The person working the register was the store manager. Since it was my local store, I already knew his face, but he had a tired look I had never seen before. Perhaps he had been working all night.
The earthquake was at 3:00 AM... the trains had been stopped ever since. The staff who were supposed to take over probably couldn't commute, so that was likely the case.
I couldn't help but say “Thank you” and then “Thank you for your hard work” as I bowed my head. I was too embarrassed to look up as I left the store, but I knew he had smiled slightly.
I left the store while hearing the person behind me say, “Please, thank you for your hard work.”

When I got home, there was a LINE message from my manager.
This time it said, “Can you come to the office for now?” I had already changed into my suit, so I put down my shopping bag and headed to the office.

I think the automatic doors were left open. Since the elevator wasn't working, I took the stairs up to the floor where my desk was.

When I entered the office, all my seniors were already there as usual.
“Hey, you live the closest, why are you the latest?” one senior said jokingly, so I replied, “Because the manager told me to stay home.”
“Well, then it can't be helped,” the seniors said with a smile.

The office lights were all off, and only the sunlight from the clear day streamed in through the large windows. It was dimly lit. All the seniors were there, but since the computers wouldn't turn on, they just sat in their chairs, zoning out or making small talk.
They said only the one analog phone line in the office was working, so that was for emergency calls only.

For some reason, everyone seemed to be having fun. Honestly, I was excited too. I had no information about the damage, so it just felt like an extraordinary day.

When I asked the person at the next desk, “How did you get here?” they said, “I thought I'd just walk to the office, but I was lucky enough to catch a taxi,” or that they had walked the whole way.
They talked about how there were people directing traffic because the traffic lights were out, or how cars were yielding to each other.
We all said, “Taxis must be making a fortune!”

(※Later, when I had the chance to take a taxi, I asked about that time, and it seems they were really busy. The driver said, “I never want to go through that again.” Thank you for your hard work.)

In the end, there was nothing to do, so I spent the time organizing my desk drawers.
After a while, instructions arrived from higher up. The department manager gathered everyone and said, “Today is a temporary closure, so please go home. Stay home until you are contacted to resume work.”
Everyone looked at each other happily and hurriedly packed up to leave. I heard someone singing, “Company spirit♪ Company spirit♪.”

I had a sales visit scheduled for that day.
Thinking they probably wouldn't be there, I headed toward the client's office through Odori Park anyway.

Then, I saw people sitting idly on benches on the lawn. Everyone had large backpacks or suitcases nearby.
Thinking about it now, they must have been tourists who had nowhere to go because the trains and planes had stopped.
Except for the fact that they were holding suitcases, they looked like they were leisurely enjoying autumn in Sapporo while sitting on the lawn of Odori Park.

Sapporo on this day looked very peaceful. There was no chaos.
Of course, the traffic lights were out, so traffic was being directed manually, and the subway entrances were blocked because the trains weren't running. Only the handwritten signs gave a sense that “something serious was happening.”
Taxis were very busy and impossible to catch. Phones were analog only. But I don't think I saw anyone lining up at public phones.
Stores were closed everywhere like it was the middle of the night, and while convenience stores were open, the registers were manual and had long lines. All the clerks were probably working through the night.

Even so, around the Autumn Fest prefab buildings, work on store decorations and such was proceeding calmly. As if nothing had happened.
That's why it felt like I was just taking a walk on a peaceful holiday... that kind of mood.

Naturally, the shutters were down at the client's office as well. With no way to get in touch, I gave up and slowly walked back toward Sapporo Station.

On the way, I saw an elderly woman who looked like she wanted to catch a taxi, so I stepped out into the road to flag one down for her.

When I entered Sapporo Station, the ticket gates were blocked. There were security guards? Or station staff? standing in the powerless station concourse, and people sitting on the floor clutching their luggage.
This was the only place that felt somewhat tense.

Having nothing else to do, I returned to Odori Park, where I saw a few people eating soft-serve ice cream, and when I looked closely, there was even a line for it.
It felt strangely peaceful.

I ended up going home that day and spent the time just staring blankly since there was no electricity.
At night, I made a plastic bottle light while checking Twitter. It's that trick where you put a bottle of water on top of an emergency light to diffuse the light and brighten the room.
On a whim, I added a drop of milk to it to make a jellyfish and played with that to pass the time. I was incredibly bored. I thought about going outside, but my inherent cowardice won out.
When the night grew late, there was a sudden shout outside my house, which scared me. There was a small inn across the street, so it must have been the guests. I should have taken a peek, but I was too scared.

(※Thinking back now, it must have been cheers for the starry sky that was visible because the entire Hokkaido region had a wide-area blackout. I realized this the next morning after checking Twitter.)

The power was restored around noon the next day.
I bought one pack of meat that had just arrived at a nearby supermarket (※there was a limit of one pack per person) and went home, where I made a simple stir-fry with vegetables and ate it.
I spent the weekend relaxing, and when I went to work on Monday, the city and the company were both back to the usual Sapporo.

Seven years have already passed. People on the main island who were there that day have surely forgotten all about this earthquake and the blackout by now.
But even if the earthquake itself isn't major, a wide-area blackout can still happen.
If the electricity goes out, trains and planes stop running. Traffic lights go dark. Phones stop working. Since cash registers don't work, you can't use credit cards, of course. QR payments probably won't work either. Without cash, you can't get anything.
No matter how much you have stockpiled at home, if you are out, you can't reach it. Since that day, I have always carried a large mobile battery with me. I also always carry a bottle of water.

Seven years have already passed since then.

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