The Color of the Sky I saw that Day was also Blue

Chapter 23:
Memories of the Accident

And so Osakabe checked out from the guest house at which he had stayed for thirteen days and took off on his scooter once more for Morioka City.

Shirakisawa Honoka had been admitted to Morioka Medical University Hospital in room 610. Now he knew that all of his memories had returned. This was not the first time he had tried to visit her at the hospital.

He had merely forgotten.

Why, even after meeting her once more, had his memories only come back in pieces? How, in the days after the accident, had only the memories of her been carved out, leaving a gaping hole behind? The root of both issues could only be psychogenic amnesia.

All the memories in particular that he had lost due to his mental disorder were all related to Honoka.

“Damn it.” The swear slipped from his lips.

He had several reasons to complain.

The slow crawl of the scooter. The loss of the majority of his memories related to Honoka. And breaking up with her on that last day they spent together at the guest house.

Ever since he had arrived in Jodogahama at the beginning of August, there had been several hints here and there indicating that Honoka did not actually exist.

First of all, he reflected, she never spoke to anyone else but me.

The one counter to this theory in all of his memories with her, was the time Honoka had given directions to the old woman. But it was just as likely that she had only appeared to give directions, and she may have been the only one to wave goodbye. Had she actually given any directions in the first place? Or had she used some mysterious power to give some hint to the old woman? he thought.

It was just like the time they encountered Minako in front of the guest house. Honoka had bowed to her as she passed, but Minako had never glanced Honoka’s way even once. After that, Minako had asked during their conversation, “Do you have someone in your life?” She had not asked if the girl from earlier was his girlfriend.

However, there had been nothing particularly suspicious when checking in at the love hotel. Had the clerk merely assumed he was a solo traveler spending the night? There were even more strange incidents. The ramen shop they had visited together. The ride on the sappa boat. It may simply be that it only looked to me like she was eating. She only appeared to wear a life jacket. 

And yet the only thing he could say for sure now, was that Shirakisawa Honoka currently lay unconscious in a Morioka hospital. That was why the three pictures he had supposedly taken of her had shown nothing but sea and sky.

So what exactly was the version of Honoka with whom he had spent those thirteen days? No matter how many times he asked himself that, he could not come up with a convincing answer. Maybe she had been some sort of spirit or ghost. Had her powers distorted his memories, or inflicted him with some kind of dream or delusion? At any rate, it was not something that could be scientifically proven.

The memories of the days he spent with her, as much as he could clearly remember them, had been a strange experience, to say the least.

On the one hand, Honoka had made several remarks that seemed to hint that she had grasped the situation she had been placed in.

That’s likely why, when he had asked her about her future dreams, she had told him she had none, and why when he had asked her to wait for him for two years, she had said “I’ll do my best to stay alive.”

In any case, he could only say this. If no matter what, their relationship would end as a dream, then they should separate as lovers.

The world had changed too much since he had broken up with her. If Honoka was unable to dream a happy ending all because I let myself spout such nonsense… he thought, biting his lip.

This is all my fault—I’ll never make up for it as long as I live.

He had thought that he’d decided to break up with her for her sake, but was that really true? Or, more likely, had he forced that excuse in order to make his escape because he had no hope for his future? He continued to ponder the question.

I should think more before I leap. It’s too late for regrets.

In the end, he thought, I may have made the exact same mistake with Honoka as I did with Minako. He was disgusted with his pathetic self which had not learned anything since high school. He gritted his teeth.

The sluggish scooter tutted along the winding mountain roads, and at last he arrived in Morioka City. Because of the small gas tank, he had been forced to refuel along the way.

He suddenly remembered what Shirakisawa Mafuyu had told him right before he left Miyako City.

“My mother has told the hospital to decline any requests to visit, so if you try to check in at reception, they won’t show you to her room.” She then confirmed that Honoka was still in the same room since she was first hospitalized.

“So don’t go to reception, just go straight to room 610. However,” Mafuyu had warned him, “over the Obon break, my mother will be visiting to take care of my sister at the hospital. Both of my parents still blame you for the accident, so I have no idea if she’ll even let you in to see her. Don’t be surprised if you’re turned away.”

I could hardly blame her, Osakabe thought. But, that’s okay. There’s no way I’d ask to visit if I couldn’t receive their forgiveness first. …Come to think of it, she also turned me away  when I went last spring. And so he retraced his memories of the accident.

※※※

“Osakabe, would you be available to cover a shift this weekend driving one of the tourist buses?”

It had all begun with this request from my boss.

“I don’t have any experience driving tourist buses. Could you ask someone else to do it?”

I looked down while scratching the back of my head, trying to indicate my reluctance to my boss who loitered by the desk. But he only kept up his pleas with a hand on my shoulder.

“I understand how you feel… But you see, the flu is really going around right now, and with so many people taking off we’re short on staff. I had originally planned to ask Yamamoto,  but he called in yesterday with a fever.”

It was hard to turn him down when he kept asking me like this over and over. I steeled myself before agreeing with a sigh.

“…all right. I’ll try to manage. But please send me the route and timetables later.”

Although I had consented, I was still absolutely dreading it. I normally drove a mid-sized city bus with a max occupancy of twenty passengers; this weekend, I would be entrusted with a large bus that could seat more than thirty. Though still technically a bus, it would be a lot longer than I was used to driving.

On top of that, the destination was a ski resort in Nagano in January. No doubt the roads would be frozen solid, and being born in Saitama, I had no experience driving on snow and ice.

The more I thought about it, I could feel a heaviness in my chest, like a stone sinking into my heart. Every day, I grew more anxious. I fretted the whole time I looked over the driving schedule that had been sent to me.

Well, when it rains, it pours—the weather forecast that day was not looking good.

While it was raining where we set out from in Saitama, our destination in Nagano Prefecture predicted snow.

And on top of that, the bus had exceeded the maximum occupancy. Forty-six tourists crowded onto a bus approved for thirty-two. “…are you kidding me?” I grumbled when I saw them.

While the main culprit may have been the overbooked travel company, we were the ones who had accepted their request. Some fault lay with our bus company as well.

With my pessimism reaching its peak, I gripped the steering wheel of a bus I wasn’t used to with trepidation. If there was one bright side to this whole mess, perhaps it was her, the student from the junior college.

“Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Osakabe,” she said as she boarded the bus. For once, she murmured something else after that: “I thought there might be a chance, when I saw this was the same bus company, and here you are.”

The girl smiled while a blush crept into her cheeks. Her hair must have grown out over winter vacation, and now reached her shoulders. She didn’t wear her glasses either, which is why there was a lag before I realized she was the girl who greeted me without fail every day on the bus route I normally drove.

“It’s you…” I said a bit nervously, but she only wished me safe driving1 before she and her friend took the seats just to the left of me in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until much later that I found out that was her special seat.

My heart pounded at the unexpected stroke of luck, but I also thought, That’s right, I absolutely must drive safely today. 

We took the expressway out of Saitama prefecture and got off after entering Nagano. After that we would be sticking to smaller highways. The weather changed from rain to sleet, and then at last to snow. This wasn’t yet a problem on the larger, well-maintained roads.

I kept driving, occasionally cheered by the light-hearted laughter drifting to my ears from where the girl sat with her friend.

The problems began when we neared the ski resort, as we began to slope up the mountain.

The excess passengers were all seated in the auxiliary seats through the aisle. More than a few resorted to standing, blocking my view by the left rear wheels.

The weather kept getting worse. Before long, the snow blew up in strong gusts, making it even more difficult to see outside. And still I held on to the steering wheel for dear life, as we went on clearing one tight corner after the next.

When we finally closed in on the resort, the ill-fated sharp curve suddenly came into view.

I could blame it on the trees and the snowstorm that made it nearly impossible to see…

That I wasn’t used to driving on icy roads…

On the total number of passengers exceeding the maximum occupancy…

There were any number of excuses I could come up with. But ultimately, I could not deny the true cause was my own driving error.

When we approached the sharp curve to the right, I was preoccupied with the guardrail on my left. By the time I noticed that I may have misestimated the distance, my right wheel had already driven off the road.

This was yet another bit of bad luck. If there had at least been a guard rail on the right side of the road, the bus should not have slipped down the cliff.

The overcrowded bus lost its balance in an instant, and leaning to one side just a bit, the bus slid off the steep incline. I extended my hand to the girl seated just behind me… I did remember that much. Worrying about one passenger’s safety over all the rest may have been negligent, but I was still desperate.

However, we could not defy gravity. The bus, crashing into the ground below, toppled over onto its left side.

In that final instant, I had the sense that I had reached her fingertips, but I soon lost consciousness from my own grave injuries. I still can’t remember that moment even now. All I could clearly remember was praying for her to at least be okay.

By the time I regained consciousness, I was laying in a hospital bed. While it was a blessing that the damage to the driver’s side of the bus had not been so great, it was still unclear whether I would make it for several days. In the end I pulled through.

As I said before, the few months I was in the hospital after that were hell.

During that depressing time, I did not realize that the junior college student who sustained heavy injuries and still had not regained consciousness—Shirakisawa Honoka—was the girl I knew from the bus until around the time I was to be discharged.

Some magazine had published her photograph in an article about the accident, allowing me to connect those two pieces of information.

Though I hesitated to prioritize correspondence with any of the victims over the others, I still frantically looked up any information about her and her friend. Shirakisawa Honoka was hospitalized in Morioka. Her friend had escaped harm.

While I rejoiced that she was still alive, I was aghast to learn that there were few precedents for recovering from a vegetative state. And yet, I had to see her face. If I could only hold her hand and confirm that she still lived, surely she would recover—I was caught up in that blissful ignorance.

I went to Morioka almost immediately after I was discharged from the hospital.

I flew down the expressway in seven hours, headed for Shirakisawa Honoka’s hospital room at Morioka University Medical University.

When I got off the elevator at the hospital and stood outside her room, I saw a woman who appeared to be her mother. I bowed deeply and offered up my apologies, begging to just be allowed to see Honoka.

And she turned me away.

“I don’t blame you for everything, but please just leave us alone. My daughter has suffered brain damage, and we aren’t even sure if she will ever wake up.”

“Please, this is all I ask! I just have to see her face!”

Though I pleaded relentlessly, her mother would not listen to a word I said. There was no way I could just force myself in, so I returned to Saitama, heartbroken.

※※※

Looking back now, this was likely the root of the trauma that had ultimately caused Osakabe to lose all memory of ever meeting Honoka.

While Honoka doesn’t explicitly mention safe driving, here she uses the polite form of the Japanese greeting よろしくお願いいたします, which is a generic request when asking for someone’s cooperation or a favor. It’s used in so many different instances that the exact meaning is hard to pinpoint, and there is no real equivalent in English, but I thought “safe driving” tied in nicely with Osakabe’s later internal monologue.