Shinrin-yoku: Last Days In Nikko

White still clung to most of the ground as sunlight shone its hints of warmth down onto Nikko. March had brought whispers of Spring to the foothills of the mountains. Rivers swelled with melting powder as icicles dripped away their bodies along the edges of tree branches and buildings.

Enough snow had vanished to allow the group to begin hiking the trails that surrounded the facility. In the weeks that follow Shuhei’s departure, Kaho found herself walking as much as placing flowers. Winter’s thaw brought a rush of new scents to the world, and Kaho enjoyed breathing them in as she meandered beneath the ancient trees.

Damp moss and stone mixed with blossoming flowers. Colors faded into vibrancy after vanishing from the cold. Yellow and white sun rays pierced through branches and clouds. Everything felt like it was finally waking. Even Kaho.

Something subtle had shifted in her spirit. Nothing was drastically changed, but she felt a new awareness as she observed the silent world around her. She’d even dared to brush her hair fully over her right shoulder so that her left hearing aid was finally visible on her exposed ear.

When she finally turned the aid on again, sounds of course did not return. Hearing loss of her degree meant that at best, the device could amplify vibrations into abstract form. Cochlear implants would bypass that, but in her heart, Kaho knew she was afraid of sound. Having never known it, would she even like it? Would it be overwhelming and painful? Ambient droning emptiness littered with severely muffled thuds was all she knew. Would finally existing above The Surface be exhausting?

Those thoughts floated through her spirit as she watched sunlight dappling through the trees and onto a patch of snow. Branches swayed in a slight breeze. She’d been told that made a crackling sound, but she didn’t know what crackling meant. But she knew how it felt. Resting her open palm on the trunk allowed her to register the tiny vibrations that emanated out as the tree snapped and breathed. For now, that was enough.

Kaho didn’t know how much more time she wanted to stay in the facility. It wasn’t that anything was even waiting for her on the outside, or she was any more lonely here than in Tokyo, but her heart was feeling full from its time in Nikko. Nature and stillness had done all they could for her. He had given her a few actual smiles. For now, that was also enough.

Perhaps she’d return to Nikko after the cold was gone. Perhaps she’d come see the waterfalls and bridges enveloped in red and orange wonder when Fall arrived. Perhaps she’d never be here again.

Life without direction was its own prison of indecision after indecision. The only thing Kaho could decide on was that she would like to return to Tokyo when her first treatment cycle was done, and she’d like to continue ikebana.

Plum blossoms had become her favorite flower to work with. Their small, delicate blooms were pleasant to the touch and stirred something soft and feminine within her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t feminine. If anything, she’d always erred towards it visually, but in her spirit, she’d always felt more harsh and distant. Not the nurturing, floral, softness that was now settling into her being.

Kaho wondered if it was the lack of cutting and the new relationship with The Surface. It had been months since she’d harmed herself. And ever since her panic attack, she found herself repulsed when she caught sight of her scars. Even if hints of dependence and coping patterns made her want to cut, seeing her mutilated skin instantly evaporated those urges.

Bit by bit, she was changing. Purpose and clarity were still as opaque for her as audible sound, but she still felt herself becoming different. Maybe that difference would stay with her when she returned to Tokyo.

“Your arrangements are becoming more minimal,” the instructor said after their next class.

Sayane signed her translation to Kaho, who paused to observe her work. It was true. When she had first began, her arrangements were heavier, more full of color and variations of plants. But now, she was more focused on the simple lines and accents that helped guide focus to her plum branches.

“I think I feel more connected to the flowers and leaves now,” Kaho signed in reply.

“And hopefully yourself…” the instructor said.

Kaho read Sayane’s hands and gave a deflecting smirk.

“Maybe.”

“But deep down, do you feel that?” the psychiatrist later asked.

Kaho was there for her weekly check in.

“More connected to myself?” Kaho asked.

The instructor nodded.

Kaho exhaled and shrugged as her fingers nervously guided her hair over her ears in habit before raising. Her hearing aid was off once more.

“I feel more aware of myself, but I feel so different as well. Like there is a new part of me to learn. So more connected in some ways, but more foreign in others,” she signed with pensive gestures.

Sayane spoke the translation to the psychiatrist. Papers were stacked in a small file organizer at the edge of the desk. Cables ran from computer equipment down to the rug. Sayane’s hair was tied in a braid and draped over her shoulder. A faded map of the world was framed on the wall, telling Kaho there were cities and realms full of thousands of other languages she’d never hear.

She wondered what Sayane’s voice sounded like.

There was only one last bit of snowfall in the final days of March. Bursts of frigid wind cut into the rooms every time the doors were open. Sleet mixed with snow, and soon ice covered the ground, making the outside world too dangerous to explore. Dinner was done and chores were complete, so Kaho decided to read some old poetry from the bookshelf. After selecting a book, she made her way to the hearth to sit by the fire once more.

Her time in the facility was almost complete. Soon, she would return to reality. Instead of Chuzenji’s lakeside trails, Shirokane’s streets would once more be her daily walking path.

Her last days flitted by as they all waited for the freeze to fade. When the thaw finally occurred, Kaho had only two days left in the center. On her last full day, she asked Sayane if she’d like to go on a walk one last time. Sayane agreed with a smile that seemed genuine.

Their walk took them along the lake’s perimeter. Far away on the other side of the water, hotels, restaurants, and a few neighborhoods all stood silent. It was far too distant to see anyone, but Kaho still found herself looking at the closest thing to civilization she’d seen in months. Sayane noticed her thoughtful eyes and waved slightly to get her attention.

“You’ll be okay. When you go back.”

Kaho smiled.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay. But thank you. You have been very kind to me.”

Kaho knew it was part of Sayane’s job to be nice, but it still felt sincere

“You help people. You helped me,” Kaho signed.

“People deserve to be helped. It’s what I want to do. Thank you for letting me help you,” Sayane said.

“By the way- What made you learn sign?” Kaho asked.

“I wanted to be a singer when I was younger. Even tried to run away and become an idol once when I was a teenager. I didn’t get selected. But when I was at the audition, I saw they had a sign interpreter for the singers, because a label member was Deaf. I’d never thought about deafness like that before.”

“It really stuck with me. So I started teaching myself. In the end, it became my career. And I’m very grateful. I was never an idol, but I have gotten to meet so many wonderful people because of this.”

Kaho smiled as she read. Sayane’s hands continued.

“I’m grateful to have met you, Kaho. I like you. For what it’s worth. I wanted to tell you- you don’t have to ‘make’ people like you. It comes naturally.”

Kaho blushed.

“…and Shuhei liked you too. I could tell.”

Thinking of him was still somewhat painful, but in that moment, Kaho allowed the images of his beautiful face and kind, angled eyes to flicker in her thoughts like fireworks. She didn’t believe Sayane, but it was a kind sentiment. Shuhei was probably far away, completely moved on by then.

“Thank you. I like you too. Are we allowed to connect after I leave? I promise I won’t bother you, but I’d love to have coffee with you one day,” Kaho signed.

Winds gusted through the trees. Sayane smiled as she brushed her hair from her eyes.

“I’d like that,” she replied.

With that, Kaho’s treatment cycle ended, and her time in Nikko started to fade. Tomorrow, she would return to Tokyo, where it would be up to her to decide what sort of person she would want to be moving forward.