‘My friend once said that hydrangeas reminded her of how people can change, depending on the situation,’ she continued. ‘But I think hydrangeas also speak of grit and perseverance. Something that constantly learns and adjusts, and can survive challenges and the test of time.’ She paused and looked at Shoji with a gentle smile. ‘An enduring love, perhaps.’

They bade each other farewell. For a moment, he remembered those days in Akakawa when he would see her off after their listening sessions. Looking at Mizuki, Shoji felt so proud of her now.

Clutching the folder, he walked back towards the main gate. The stream of students never seemed to cease. Amid lush greenery, the sunlight felt a little brighter and warmer than usual.

This place seemed like a good environment for Mizuki Harada to rebuild her life. What had happened to her twin sister was an unfortunate accident. But hopefully, one day, she would stop blaming herself and find her inner peace.

Now that he was away from Mizuki’s sight, Shoji opened the folder and looked at the copy of Yoko’s passport. Her name was Yoko Sasaki, as she had told him, but it was you for ocean, and ko for child.

The ocean’s child.

His mind wandered to the second time he had met her, at the campus cafeteria. On that day, she’d worn a chic faded denim dress. And she’d told him her name, Yoko, after the characters for sunshine and child. Why would she lie?

28 Like A Mild Tokyo Earthquake

CHAPTER 28

LIKE A MILD TOKYO EARTHQUAKE

Shoji rummaged in his pocket and retrieved his key. The door made a screeching sound as he pushed it open. One of these days, he ought to oil the hinges.

Dropping his bag on the floor, he threw himself onto the sofa. He fished out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep puff. The white smoke danced around the room. He felt a little more relaxed looking at it. After meeting Mizuki, he’d been so busy at the office he hadn’t had the chance to go for a cigarette break all day.

Shoji put his legs up on the sofa and rested his head on its arm. The dark patches on the ceiling from the leaking roof had grown. This place was getting old. He, too, was getting old.

One of the main reasons Shoji had rented this apartment was because the place was dirt cheap, probably because the building was located next to the railway tracks. When he had first moved in, he had been nervous about the lack of a smoke alarm. But after a while, he welcomed the convenience of being able to smoke inside his apartment. It was the first and only place he’d lived in after leaving Akakawa.

Five years later, he still lived here. The flowered curtains Liyun had bought still hung at the windows, discoloured from years of exposure to the sun.