The Girl in My Sanctuary

Autumn. Harvest.

We handled our first semester of university with ease, and summer became a fun period as we ventured with our families to a few vacation spots across Japan. The most notable was a flower park in Hamamatsu, Shizuoka; it was rather busy there. I'd gotten taller and added some meat to my bones, though daily exercise and well-being were still far from my routine, but still a goal. What we used to do as peer outings became dates, also revisiting old places with Etsuko and Hara. We also explored new locations that would be added to our sanctuaries.

One day, when autumn was reaching its peak in early November, I was sent on a mission to a local convenience store. On my way back, I decided to take a route through a nostalgic street. Each house had a tree resplendent in autumn colors.

I expected nothing new, but there was a sign sticking out of the ground of a certain house. As I got closer to it, I heard a woman speaking. She stood by the front door speaking English—quite fluently too. I wouldn't have known what she was saying if Doctor Shizuko hadn't forced me to learn the language by rote as part of my psychology curriculum.

She said, "Still no offers?"

A man then walked out behind her, continuing the conversation. They were tall and very evidently not native here.

I looked at the saw "FOR SALE!" in bright rose kanji.

The couple made their way to the driveway, where a fancy foreign car was parked.

I called out, "Ex-Excuse me, mister!" with very poor English pronunciation.

"Yes?" said the man in Japanese. "Can I help you?"

Embarrassed myself for no reason.
"Are you the owners of this house?"

"Yes, we have been for years. Though we want to sell it since we don't spend much time here. We travel a lot and just found a more convenient place in Kyoto. Are you interested in buying?"

A few days later was my and Ringomori's birthday. It was during a school day and our classes ran to the later part of the afternoon. Once we finished, we were to head to the pie shop where a celebration was planned. Little did she know the party wasn't there.

On the walk, she said, "Anzu-chan said she arrived a while ago. Akio-kun and his mother picked her up."

"Akio always wears his heart on his sleeve."

"I don't blame him; he hasn't seen her since the brief trip to Aomori in the summer."

"He often regales random stories to her while playin' games, though he should focus on studyin' too. I must say, he and she are on two different levels of skill, but he does his best to be a good teacher."

We crossed a few streets and she was unknowingly close to the destination.

She said, "We're finally eighteen~! Hey, that means you can now use the compensation money you got from your suit, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

"Lucky, I wish I could've gotten some from my accident. Bringing back memories doesn't come cheap. Do you know what you would like to buy?"

"Yeah, I already made a purchase. Don't get mad, but it cost most of my money."

"Already?!"
She stopped in her tracks and was understandably displeased. But she must have known I wouldn't blow it on something inane.
"What's something you'd buy without dithering?"

We continued walking.

"Well, I made the deal a few days ago, but of course I'd be charged soon. Here, you can have a look for yourself."

"What do you... Wait."

Before she'd realized it, we were upon her old street. We took the same route and walked abreast on the sidewalk just like in elementary school. She stopped once again in front of her old home, the house of my memory sanctuary.

The sign, the foreign car, and the salespeople were long gone.

"Maru-chan..."

"Yes, Yoru?"

"Is this...ours?"

"Yes it is. We're [You're?] home."
Choose what you like.

Her hands masked her mouth, but that didn't silence the gasp she took. She took one step on the grass, her legs wobbling with every following step. She reached the tree on the front lawn, the broad and beaconing tree that had been growing ripe yellow apples. I followed behind her.

Falling to her knees underneath the umbrella of branches, she laid her head against the trunk and an apple fell onto her head. The two of us broke out laughing.

"Go on Miss Newton, goin' to discover something new about gravity?"

I helped her to her feet and the front door swung open. Both our families and friends came out roaring in celebration. Doctor Shizuko ran up to his daughter and put a party hat on her head, hugging her endearingly. Hara, Fujita, and Etsuko led us inside where party streamers and music from a vinyl record played.

Doctor Itō captured the entire event on Ringomori's repaired camera. As Ringomori's mom made videos for her daughter, it led me to wonder whom the videos from now on would be for. I had a seed of an idea, but it wasn't a priority as of now.

""We love us,"" we said to each other, sharing a tender kiss in our new home.

On our eighteenth birthday, when kids outgrew the orphanage program, we'd gotten together in a place that edified and contained many memories of our lives. It was near the elementary school where we first met, near the orphanage where we met again, the pie shop we frequented, and the houses of our families.

I had one more birthday present lined up.

As she sat in the front yard staring at the river blue sky, still gray in bulk, but with orange highlighted on the horizon, I handed her a canvas. A painting of her looking out of the kitchen's window with an apple cake, matcha tea, and a Toki apple on the windowsill. The captured essences of the neighboring autumn trees were prominent outside the window.

It was safe to say she loved it.

I forgot who she was, but she reminded me. She forgot our journey together, but I reminded her. We had a special bond that caused us to fall in love with each other, because we were similarly unique at being uniquely similar. I wasn't afraid if she forgot again, or if I forgot either, because I knew there was a proven way to remember—our own method of communication.

She can restore my memory with apples.

And I can restore her memory with apples.

Though, it would only sound right if said in a different, more plural way. That was just how we are. The apple meant us.

We treasure our company.

We love us.

We're the apple of our senses.