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Orange-red bloomed at the end of his cigarette, the soft crackling of the tobacco cutting through the silence of the small office. The usual hum of the cheap fluorescent lights was no longer heard as every switch was turned off, allowing the dim moonlight of the full moon to glow through the open veranda doors.
Casting faded shadows on the floor behind him were cherry blossom petals, scattered from the heavy winds that had been taking over the coastal city since late winter. He watched them float by, breathing out a hazy cloud to push away any that came towards him.
But one had slipped by, twirling in the grey smoke instead and landing on his thigh. A glaring look did nothing to affect it, and after placing the cigarette back between his lips, he smoothed a thumb over pink dot, keeping it there and holding it to his leg.
“Samatoki.”
He could recall last year.
✿
“Look.”
The boy pointed to the cherry blossom petals dusted throughout the river, swirls of pink lacing the entire length of the waterway. He pushed his body against the guardrails of the bridge, arm outwards and eyes sparkling with child-like wonder.
Samatoki could only avert his gaze instead over to the hundreds of other people gathered around: some couples, many tourists, and hell, he could even spot the ones just enjoying themselves alone. He sucked on his unlit cigarette, nibbling on the spongy filter until it gave him some sort of satisfaction.
“You really are a kid.”
Saburo frowned. “And you’re an old man,” he retorted, ignoring the low growl he was given. He sighed and leaned forwards on the rails, head on his crossed arms, and continued watching the waters ahead of them. Ripples from the small tour boats cut through the stillness of it, stirring the petals into pinkish-white whirls.
“There’s nothing like this in Ikebukuro,” he mumbled more to himself than Samatoki. He remained quiet as if paused in thoughts, reaching an arm out to try and catch any petal that floated in front of him. But even in the heavy blizzard, they all slipped by, not grazing his palm an inch. Closing his empty hand and pulling his arm back in place, he spoke up softly.
”I’ve never really gone flower viewing before.” Samatoki turned his attention back and could see the boy tighten his grip on the sleeves of his coat, burying his face in deeper.
“It’s fun... having someone else here...,” his voice was muffled, a seemingly deliberate choice as the yakuza could see how bright red the boy’s ear glowed. “Ichinii‘s always busy, and Jiro’s always out with friends, so...,” the boy’s cheeks were more pink than the trees around them as he straightened up and turned to him with an awkward yet genuine smile, “I’m glad I could watch this with you.”
He let the scene soak in his mind, then let out a short huff. “Honestly,” he slowly reached out and placed a hand on Saburo’s head, and with a snap of his wrist, forced it towards the ground.
“Ngh!” Saburo winced in pain and surprise, neck aching from the sudden movement. “Samatoki!” He shouted out in annoyance, but the man was already walking away, flicking the top of his lighter up and down. “Hey...” He hurried to follow after him, staying close behind as they trekked past the crowd of people to a less populated area.
“If you like it that much, I’ll bring you back next year.” The gruff voice was low, yet it cut through the chatter surrounding them so easily.
“Is that a promise?” Saburo had some rightful doubt in his voice and Samatoki could feel the laser stare burn into his back.
There was a final click of his lighter as he pocketed it back in his jacket. “A promise involves two people.” He held a hand to his hair as another gust of wind swept up patches of fallen petals, broken tornadoes of pink encircling them. As he glanced up at the sky framed by clouds of cherry blossom clusters, he brought the bent cigarette up to his mouth, hiding the unsupressable smile blooming onto his lips.
“So you better make sure you keep up your end, brat.”
✿
He sighed, crushing his finished cigarette into the glass ashtray he had taken with him, and closed the glass door tightly as he waved away any remaining smoke.
Standing from the chair, he quietly headed for his room, the creaky door silent this time as if it were aware. Even in the dark, he could make out the balled-up mass laying in the middle of his bed. The sweet scent of cherry cold medicine was faint in the humid air, along with a savory undertone from the half-eaten rice porridge and a minty sourness from the vapor rub.
Knowing it would be a struggle to slip along side the lump, he didn’t bother, instead sliding the arm chair close by over and plopping into it. He watched the mound slowly sink up and down in time with the muted snores, a tuft of hair and sliver of forehead just barely peeking out from underneath.
“Idiot, give yourself some air to breath...”
Despite the rough, hushed whisper, he gently peeled back the flap of blanket covering the boy’s face, setting it just above his shoulder, and wiped off the strands of hair sticking to his sweaty cheek. His skin was still warm to the touch, meaning the fever hadn’t gone down since this morning.
Samatoki frowned. It probably meant it had little chance of going down tomorrow as well. But he sighed with resolve, scooting his seat closer to the bed as he dug something out of his pocket.
Inside the boy’s open palm, he placed the single cherry blossom petal that had managed its way in and closed his hand around Saburo’s, keeping it there as he smiled lightly.
“Don’t break your promise next year.”