Canon's Diary

Saturday. The sky is partly cloudy, but patches of blue peek through. After waking up, I had breakfast and washed my hair, then rode my motorbike to the tennis court for practice. As I approached the cherry blossom-lined road along the Onda River, I found the trees in full bloom, bustling with onlookers.I could faintly hear their voices, even through my helmet.

Though the riverbed is deep, the water level is low. Branches stretch out over the moat, hanging toward the water’s surface, and pale pink blossoms sway in the pleasant breeze as if overflowing.
Cherry trees line both sides of the paved road, their branches reaching across like an archway.
Petals fluttered down through the gaps in my bike’s fairing and settled gently on the asphalt.
The soft sputtering of my four-stroke V4 engine somehow felt out of place in such a serene setting.

I passed through the avenue and reached the court, where I completed a three-hour practice session.
Despite the recent break, my body moved surprisingly well. The sun occasionally blinded me mid-play, but I could relax—eating from my lunchbox on the bench and playing with ease.

Seasons have turned once again. As I face the major turning point of a transfer to Osaka, my mind is restlessly swirling with thoughts. And yet, seasons move at the same steady pace for everyone, without favor. I was reminded of Hiroyuki Itsuki’s A Drop in the Great River. The idea that the human heart is part of nature somehow lifted my spirits when I first read it.

Raindrops fall upon mountain peaks. They gather into small streams, becoming babbling brooks that rush through valleys. Each transparent drop caresses rocks, sometimes bursting, sometimes shattering, until they join into a mighty current that stitches its way across the land. While glistening in sunlight, some drops are dashed against stone, while others drift quietly along the riverbed. Eventually, all water is embraced by the vast ocean, from which it rises to the sky, forms clouds, and returns as new rain to the mountains’ cradle.
A human life, too, is like a single drop in that great river. In the immense flow of the world, we may be but one droplet—yet each droplet has its own shine, its own role to play. No matter how fleeting, every drop breathes life as part of this world.

“On May 4th, we have a practice match with another club, but we’re still short on players. Would you be able to join us?”
They had invited me before, but I had put off answering since I wasn’t sure whether I’d be in Tokyo over Golden Week. I’ll be moving out of my Tokyo apartment on April 25th, and moving into my Osaka place on the 26th. A bed I ordered in Tokyo is scheduled to arrive in Osaka on the 28th, so I need to stay there until then.But from the 29th onward, I’ll likely be back in Tokyo for other errands.
“I think I can probably make it,” I replied as I was leaving.

After returning home, I took a shower. I asked my father if he’d like to see the cherry blossoms again since they were even more beautiful than last week, but he replied that he’d seen enough. Maybe the short walk last week tired him out. Back in my room, I considered starting to pack, but I didn’t know where to begin, and I sat there thinking for a while. The large furniture and appliances need to be moved near the entrance by the day before the move. The dishes are already packed. Clothes and tennis gear are still in use, so it’s better not to pack them yet. The laptop, too—I’ll need that a while longer. I’ve found a decent gas stove and curtains on Amazon. Maybe I’ll just have them shipped straight to the Osaka apartment.

For now, I think I’ll simply savor the lingering presence of spring.