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It’s almost straight out of a movie, honestly. The kind people scoff at for being too romantic, too reckless.
The sight of Jyushimatsu running up that train platform, just to see her, almost knocks the breath out of Homura.
She was so sure that she’d never see him again, that she had hurt him too much, that this was for the best, that she should be frugal with her blessings by not asking him for anything more, that this would be a clean ending.
But here he is.
Homura faces two choices: Let him perform one last time, let their last memories together be kind and lovely and bittersweet,
or ask him,
“Will you come with me?”
There’s an empty shed beside the main house. Small, rough, plain. It’s a poor place to reside in, barely worth a yen in rent.
But Jyushimatsu makes do.
“I gotta admit, he’s got a good set of arms on him. Never seen a man lift crates like that. ”
“He’s still sloppy at milking though, needs a bit more discipline, but makes sense for a city boy like him. He’ll get better once he works more at it.”
“Mm. Wasn’t sure about a guy with a face like that at first, especially with our girl, but he’s alright.”
Just outside of the living room, Homura breathes a sigh of relief.
“How the hell does he do that trick with the milk though?”
The two of them write a joint letter, one half from Jyushimatsu saying where he is, that he’s fine, he works on a farm now, and that the countryside is beautiful. The other half from Homura is to introduce herself and say hello.
She hopes they can forgive her.
The local children adore Jyushimatsu. He can have about five of them hang from his arms (six if they’re really small) and then spin them around so fast they vomit. They all try copying the milk trick but no one can do it without choking. Despite his dismal batting average, they still argue over which team can have him every weekend baseball game.
The local adults are more suspicious, more careful, more critical. They whisper about why he came all the way up here from Tokyo, why Homura’s family had no idea who this man was until she brought him along, why she returned all the way up here from Tokyo.
He doesn’t seem to mind though, so she tries not to.
It’s still hard to sleep some nights.
“You don’t know how to use a rice cooker?”
“Ah.” Jyushimatsu’s face turns pink and he doesn’t meet her eyes. “No.”
Homura blinks. She smiles. “That’s okay. I’ll show you.”
He nearly vibrates with glee. “Thank you, Home run-chan!”
It feels nice that he isn’t so perfect in every way.
Her family has questions she can't won't answer.
They notice how she skimps on details of Tokyo, how she stays in bed some days, how she still wears long sleeves in the summer.
Jyushimatsu tells stories though: Of their games in park, of the boat rides, of how she saved him at the beach. (Each one has its own embellishments, but the last one feels especially wrong.)
He tells other stories too: Of his family, of the Akatsuka Ward locals, of baseball.
Even when she’s not in them, it fills in the details. They don’t
really
answer her family’s questions, but they paint a picture that
feels
like they have been. They nod along, chuckle, and pat Homura on the back.
Sometimes when she listens to his stories, a pit forms in her stomach. Homura can’t tell if it’s guilt or envy, but it’s a small price to pay for letting some things be left alone.
They get several letters back, each varying in length.
What??? You have a girlfriend on a farm now?!! You should send us free meat and milk.
I’m enraptured with ecstasy to hear of our younger brother moving onward in life, overcoming every obstacle in order to be reunited with his true love. While we are deeply saddened at your leaving, a true man must follow his destiny, wherever it may lie. Congratulations!!!! And as for you, dear Homura-san, I’m so honored that you would grace us with your presence, albeit indirectly. We welcome your vivacious entrance into our family with open hearts.
How could you leave and disappear like that? We all thought you went missing? Or died? I called the police and almost got arrested myself! Also, you left all your stuff behind!
Hope you’re doing well.
Jyushimatsu-niisan, you should get an email account, it would be much faster than this. Also, hi Homura-chan!
Jyushimatsu, this was quite a surprise, but we’re all very proud of you for finally striking it out alone (sort of) and we're just glad that you’re doing okay. And Homura, you seem like a lovely young woman. Thank you for taking care of our son. We’ll have to take a trip up there ourselves sometime. Also, please feel free to stop by our house anytime.
Unfortunately, it seems to be a rite of passage for every milker to get kicked by a cow at some point.
“Looks like he didn’t get any bones broken, the lucky guy,” the doctor says. “Still should probably stick in bed for the rest of today, but he doesn’t have to stay here if he doesn’t want to.”
Everyone deflates with relief.
So after picking up some cream from the pharmacy, they drive him back home.
She puts extra care in the stew she makes for Jyushimatsu, throwing in extra potatoes and the fattier bits of beef. When she brings a bowl for him, the heavy aroma filling the shed, he has the biggest smile on his face.
Every once in a while, Homura wakes up and tries to remember what she wanted to do in Tokyo. What her dreams were.
She mainly remembers that she wanted to leave, start a new life elsewhere.
And that she failed even that.
They have picnics sometimes, before fall sets in, when they’re both free enough. They bring onigiri and salad and sliced fruit and chips and tea, and sit out on a grassy hill to watch the clouds.
“Date” leaves an odd taste on her tongue but she supposes that’s what these are now. It’d be strange otherwise, to bring a boy home with her and not be dating.
But they feel no different from before. Only the scenery and walk home have changed.
Still, Homura feels calmer now. Is this what love is?
“When are you gonna marry that boy?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me he doesn’t want you, not after followin' you all the way up here.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then why not? ”
“…I don’t know.”
They’re on one of their picnics when she says, “Jyushimatsu.”
“Mm?” He has food in his mouth.
“Do you…do you want to get married?”
He swallows quickly and turns to Homura. His expression remains the same, a slight smile with wide, bright eyes.
“I didn’t think that far ahead, honestly.”
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice is soft but her hands are clasped together, rigid.
“Hm.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “I’d never been with someone like this, so I think I gave up on this sort of thing a while ago. I probably still had a bit of hope for a wedding in my fantasies when I met you, but not much,” he laughs.
Jyushimatsu reaches out to her hands and gently pries open the clammy, makeshift lock. He rests his hands inside hers.
“What about you?”
“I—” Homura looks down at their hands. “It’s hard.”
“What is?”
“Seeing myself like that.”
“Like what?”
It takes her a moment. “Marriage is a big step to take. You’re supposed to promise to be together forever.” She looks up at him. “I don’t know…if I can ask that much of you. I’m already so lucky.” Her hands feel hollow as she lets them fall away from his.
“But do you want it?”
“I think so? Maybe?” she answers quietly. “I’m just…not sure about myself anymore.”
The wind brushes through the trees and she takes in the sound of them shaking.
“We can always wait and see what we want,” Jyushimatsu suggests. “I’m happy with you right now, Homura.”
She leans into him as he wraps his arms around her.
“Me too.”
They make new stories together. Ones that she can tell and ones that he can tell and ones that they can tell together.
They go to the beach and the ocean doesn’t fill her with dread anymore.
They fix up the shed, make it more livable.
They come down to Tokyo and she sees what cloth he's cut from. His family comes up to the farm and makes a big ruckus. (They then vow to only travel to Tokyo for family visits.)
Some nights are still harder than others, some nights she's eaten up by doubt, but on the days when she can touch her fingers to his palm, when she can lay her head down on his lap, when he makes her laugh and laugh and laugh,
she breathes easy.