Sayane and Masaru Pt IV: A Tea Room And Scents Of Plum Blossoms

The Yokosuka Line speedily carried them from Tokyo’s edges and westward towards their destination. The entire trip would only take a little more than an hour. They’d left early enough to beat the morning commute, so halfway through the trip, the car was relatively empty. None had looked at them. None seemed to notice the bruised, malnourished blind girl or the half-faded man with a patch over his eye. If they did, they still decided it was best to keep their head down.

Yokohama had come and gone in a blur. Masaru’s phone silently rang once again, and he once again hung up without looking at the screen. Work had never once returned his call, so he would return the favor right here at the end.

Sayane had downed a small bottle of amber whiskey before eating some konbini breakfast and taking a handful of unknown pills before falling asleep on the seat beside him. Even as she slept, her fingers stayed locked around her cane. Breaths came so even and deliberate, they felt manufactured. As though she’d regimented her unconscious state to keep the world at a precise and manageable distance, with the ability to bolt awake in an instant if needed. Her eyes twitched, and he could see her pupils shifting beneath their lids.

He wondered if blindness had given her a more honest relationship with nothingness than he would ever manage.

Subtle hints of plum blossoms drifted from her clothes.

Buildings began to thin from dense skyscrapers into quaint residential neighborhoods, and eventually sparse towns that dotted the foothills of the distant ranges. Tourists and travelers alike cloistered along the opposite windows from Masaru and Sayane, hoping to catch a glimpse of Fuji-san. Cloud cover was too dense, but the hope remained.

Life’s simple happiness hummed around them, and Masaru thought that for a moment it might seep into them through proximity. It was foolish, but he dared to hope that maybe somehow, some way, if enough joy bled from the world and into their spirits, things might change. Maybe he’d stop fading. Maybe she’d get better, or try to run away.

Tears in the fabric of reality sent tears through his pant leg.

Even his clothes were fading.

Sitting there, lost in thought, Masaru tried to piece together a thorough analysis of his situation, even if he didn’t expect it to get better.

He wasn’t falling through surfaces. Touch still allowed him to engage with his phone and with train ticket kiosks. He hadn’t engaged with anyone beyond Sayane, so he had no idea if anyone could see him. It was impossible to know if this was even dying. Dying left a body. In the moments when his limbs and extremities faded, they still registered feedback. Quietly, he began to fear that this would be something far worse- he might stay alive, but forever erased.

For now, he shook his head clear to try to return to finding hints of joy on the commute. So far, the morning had been good. To avoid horrifying anyone and ruining their day, they’d decided it was best to simply let her handle ordering and paying for everything. He would simply exist in the background like a spectre.

That was enough.

Simply being there would have to be enough.

She flinched in her sleep, and a small drop of drool landed on her shoulder. He smiled to himself. Another tear streaked down his face, and this time he didn’t wipe it away. Grief had a habit of appearing without warning, often without full context. At that moment, he wanted to be at peace and present as he focused on the unobtrusive specks of joy he was feeling, but the tears were inescapable. Sorrow was a shadow that lingered around their ankles, forever following them as though illuminated by an unsetting sun.

He realized the grief was about something deeper, and simpler; they were both fading and it was happening to them in a way that so many other mundane and important things always did. Unseen. Composed. Ignored. Terrible secrets never addressed and-

Speakers activated. The announcements pulled his mind back to focus as Sayane tensed awake with a sniff.

“Now arriving at Kamakura Station. The doors will open on the left.”

Bodies moved from the car with anticipation and haste. Crowds had yet to descend on the destination location, so the platform was mostly clear. That meant it would be easier for Sayane to move. Her cane could swing wide without her being afraid of hitting anyone’s leg.

“Ready?” Masaru asked.

“I’m excited,” she admitted as they stepped from the train.

“I am too. I haven’t been to a beach in years,” Masaru said as he felt the unfamiliar toasting of summer sun on his remaining skin.

He noticed there was no sensation of warmth on the faded parts of him.

“There’s something ironic about how we live on an island, and neither seemed to ever really make it to the beach,” she pondered as her cane tapped ahead of her.

He noticed her chin was up ever so slightly as she inhaled the scents around them.

A nearby map told them that the beach was a kilometer and a half away.

“Food and caffeine on the way?” Sayane asked.

“Yes, please. Coffee. Or tea. We can just do a vending machine if we need to. Hell, I’ll take one of those western energy drinks at this point,” Masaru said through a yawn.

“I refuse to settle for vending machine coffee on our vacation. You deserve something better.”

Down they went, making their way southward towards the sand. Charming shops dotted narrow streets that sloped and wound. At one point, she slowly reached out to take the edge of his shirt sleeve again. Their skin never met, but this was enough. Feminine redness in her face betrayed the realization that it was as much for guidance as it was for comfort.

Most of the shops were still closed, but eventually, a scent caught both of their noses.

“Tea?” Sayane asked.

“Looks like it,” Masaru said as he eyed the window display. To his relief, it was open.

“Looks like there’s coffee too. But tea works if needed.”

Bells chimed as the door opened. A beautiful yet unassuming woman in her thirties greeted them. She was missing the lower half of her right arm. A young man with short-cropped hair was behind her, prepping machines.

“What do you want?” Sayane asked.

“Just black coffee,” Masaru answered as he led them to the counter.

It was impossible to tell if the worker was looking at him as they approached. In the end, her eyes settled on Sayane.

“Sencha fukamushi, and black coffee please,” Sayane asked.

The woman nodded, and the young man immediately went to work. Machines whirred. Drops dripped through filters. Fragrant aromas of leaves, beans, powders, and spices lofted around them. Sayane breathed in deep as she paid with hard cash.

“Can I receive the bills and coins all separated?” she asked.

“Certainly. Here are the bills first,” said the woman as she retrieved a handful of papers from the register.

Masaru watched as the bills were dispersed in groups. Sayane folded each one and placed them in their appropriate containers in her waist pouch. Next, the coins were distributed and set in their individual homes.

“Thank you,” Sayane said with a slight bow.

The young man returned with their drinks and the two sat at a windowside table. Masaru stole a glance of Sayane holding the ceramic mug to her nose. She listened to his slight exhales after each sip.

After they’d consumed their caffeine and eaten some pastries, they once again set off towards the beach. Neither rushed the walk, instead allowing the narrow arteries of traffic routes to guide them to unknown corners and views. Near the green Enoden tracks, they found a charming cottage layered in lavender. Later on they found a small stream cutting alongside the walkway, running downward from the hills and out towards the shore. Its bubbling current undulated and laughed along the curved edges of smoothed stone that seemed as though they had been and would be there long after any of the homes stood.

Their meandering walk took long enough to allow the shops to fully open as more crowds began to trickle into the quiet streets. Bodies moved through alleys and doors as chatter about planned sightseeing and potential dining options blurred into steady choruses of excited noise.

Sayane was mostly quiet, but every time Masaru looked at her, she seemed to be soft and relaxed, albeit excitedly inquisitive.

“Have you ever been here?” Masaru asked as they brushed alongside a seawall that was overgrown with gardenias and waited for the picturesque green train to pass them by.

She shook her head.

“No, I moved to Tokyo from Kochi, but never really got to leave the city once I got there. You?”

“A long, long time ago. Let’s just say no one had smartphones the last time I was here.”

Masaru couldn’t help but think about the sad state of his existence in those decades between this visit and his last. So many mundane Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Thursdays. So many ordinary weeknights spent in the office rather than in the world, shaving himself away for the sake of others as part of a system that had never truly cared to listen to his cries for help. Or the cries of anyone else for that matter. He’d spent so many years eating onigiri while burning his retinas against spreadsheets and work orders, hoping that soon, so very soon, he’d get that break and take that vacation.

Those vacations were always just on the other side of the next performance review, and they never materialized. Now, he was finally taking one, and all that could be afforded was a single night of shattered invisibility.

“Your toes are tapping again.”

Masaru looked down at his unseen foot out of habit and grimaced in concern.

“Sorry,” he replied.

“Lost in thought.”

Sayane looked over her shoulder towards his general direction. There was a hint of color in her face, likely from the walking.

“Good thoughts?”

The breeze pushed her hair over her face as her lips remained parted. Her shoulders were always rolled forward, slightly collapsing on themselves for shielding from a world she wanted to keep at arm’s distance. One of her teeth was chipped, but its healing implied it was an injury from long ago. Purple veins streaked through her cheeks and neck. Wind’s gentle embrace carried more hints of plum blossoms to his nose.

“Some good,” Masaru said.

She smiled a weak smile and nodded.

“Did you put on l-lotion or something? I keep smelling plum, and it’s very nice.”

Sayane blushed and started to speak before stopping.

“It’s… perfume. Just a cheap bottle I got a long time ago. But I didn’t just want to reek of cigarettes today.”

Now Masaru blushed.

The train passed them fully, and the crosswalk guards raised as the familiar alert pings ceased.

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

One final turn led them to the end of the path. Repetitive lapping echoes pulled them to their final waiting point. Hums of cars passing told them the roadway was there, separating them from the shore, which was just on the other side of the asphalt. Above them, the sun was hazy and well behaved. Sayane smiled a genuine, unfiltered smile as her shoulders drooped and she inhaled the scent of salt and sea while daylight nourished her forsaken body.

The crosswalk pinged, and they were able to move across the road, down to the beach. Stone steps led them to tan sand, and the two of them slowly removed their shoes. Trouser legs were rolled. Socks were stored in heel cups.

Cool, squishing grains welcomed their toes and arches, and Sayane let out a laugh.

Masaru himself felt a rush of joy that he didn’t believe was still possible, and he found himself audibly chuckling as he watched her spin in cautious circles as she clung her cane close to her chest.

“It’s the ocean!! Like, the OCEAN ocean!” Sayane cheered.

She stopped spinning and began to cautiously shuffle towards the water. Glee led to abandonment of concern, and her hand extended once again as her cane kicked flecks of sand to the sides. Masaru stepped close to her to allow his sleeve to graze her touch. When she felt the fabric, she clung to it, and they moved swifter towards the water.

When the tide met their feet, he felt the cool of the water move through his ribs. Sunlight’s embrace still could not reach the parts of him that were already gone. Smearing, crackling deterioration pulled bits of him away, but his thoughts were only on the sensation of how the pull of his sleeve felt within her grasp. It was far more pleasant than the spectral pulls he’d felt throughout his life.

Once again, he smiled.

He saw that she was too.

Glistening on her cheeks told him not to interrupt the moment.

As they stood there, both fading in their own ways, he wished that they could have had thousands more of these days. But this one would have to be enough.

His right arm fully vanished with a distorted, pained groan.

Waves crashed against eternal shores. He knew they would never be here again.