The changes in this town over the past five years were obvious. New buildings had risen on once-empty lots, and there had been a noticeable increase in American presence. It seemed busier than Yokohama, perhaps because Yokohama had already been a large city, leaving little room for further development.

One thing that hadn't changed was the town's cold temperatures, even as summer approached. The thin layer of ice on the asphalt remained, a sight both familiar and haunting. But with the sun fully up, it hadn't lasted long.

Shop owners around the bus stop had already been bustling with activity. Some had started with Taiso exercises, while others had greeted neighbors and exchanged news. Middle-aged men, clad in jackets and rubber sandals, unlocked the barred doors of grocery stores, accompanied by their wives who was sweeping. It was a routine he remembered very well from five years ago when his own shop still stood. Every day, he cleaned the sidewalk and wiped the glass while Keina prepared lunch for Takeru to take to school.

The woman who owned the flower shop across from the bus stop smiled and waved at him. He took it as her way of saying "welcome back." He wondered, had his relatives in Misawa still remembered him?

He had hoped they hadn't forgotten. How could they forget Hirose Tora, the "tiger" center, the pride of this city's hockey scene?

But that had been in the past. There had been no one to carry on his legacy now. All the hard work he put into hockey felt like a distant memory, something he had once dreamed of but now seemed unreal.

Perhaps what lingers in people's minds is the tragic incident in the rink parking lot.

He took a sip of the coffee he'd bought from the twenty-four-hour supermarket. It had gone cold. Earlier, he'd only eaten a handful of onigiri, and now hunger gnawed at him once more. But he shrugged it off; he could find something more substantial later. Is Yoshioka's ramen shop at the T-junction near Matsuzono Kindergarten still open? The ramen is delicious and he knew it was always available this early in the morning, but he'd heard rumors that the owner might rent out his land to McDonald's.

The woman who owned the flower shop brought out large jars filled with daisies, chrysanthemums, and lavender, then displayed them in front of the window. The colors were vibrant, and everything was blooming perfectly, making the front terrace of the kiosk look lively. It was spring, after all, and more flowers were blooming.

Suddenly he remembered he had to buy flowers. It was best to visit the grave first, then look for food. What flowers would be suitable? Usually, it was chrysanthemums, but today he wanted something different. He wanted to make Hikari's grave look beautiful, just like her when she was alive. Hikari resembled his wife, Keina. From a young age, it was clear Hikari would grow up to be a charming woman like her mother. As for his youngest child, people often told him that Takeru looked like him when he was younger. But on their inside, his two children were very different. Hikari inherited his traits; she was passionate and strong-willed, whereas Takeru was gentle and reserved like Keina.

Had Keina ever stopped by Hikari's grave in the past five years?

Before leaving the town five years ago, he'd left money with Kubota-san, who lived across from them, and asked him to help clean Hikari's grave. He hoped the neighbor would follow through. If not, the tomb would surely be in disarray after being neglected for so long.

He'd better buy two bouquets. One for Hikari, another for Ryoji-kun. He'd never been to the kid's grave. As far as he knew, his ashes were buried in the same cemetery as Hikari's.

He stood up and stretched his arms high above his head while standing on his tiptoes. Ah, that was better. His joints were starting to stiffen with age, especially after spending the last few years mostly sitting behind the steering wheel of a taxi.

A newcomer approached the bus stop, and he found myself momentarily stunned, quickly resuming his seat. It was a young man, dressed in dark attire that seemed more suited for a funeral. Clutched in his slender hand was the strap of a heavy-looking backpack. Their eyes met briefly, and he glanced away.

"Morning," the stranger greeted.

"Good morning," he replied, feeling a shift in his thoughts away from food, flowers, and grave matters.

The young man checked the bus schedule before settling down, still holding onto his backpack.

"Young man..." he ventured to address him. "Are you waiting for the bus?"

He nodded, briefly scanning me before retrieving his cellphone.

"Where are you headed?"

"Tokyo."

"That's quite a journey. Have you had breakfast?"

The young man paused his thumb scrolling on the cellphone screen. "I had."

"What did you eat?"

"Onigiri. Bought it at the supermarket."

"Try to eat healthier food. You're very thin. Take care of yourself. Don't get sick, okay?"

Though young man's gaze remained fixed on his phone, his finger ceased its movement. "Thank you. You must also take care of your health, Uncle."

Uncle?

Ah, he understood. That nickname was more fitting for him now.

The young man replied, as he pocketed his cellphone and gazed up at the sky. "Are you waiting for the bus too?"

"No. I just arrived this morning from Yokohama."

"Yokohama? That's quite a distance."

"Yes. I'm looking for someone. My only child. My son..." He steadied my voice, determined to remain strong. "I wronged him, and he ran away from our house five years ago. It was a fatal mistake – I no longer deserve to be his father. I've searched for him everywhere, but haven't succeeded. My son is unique. Instead of celebrating his uniqueness, I tried to mold him into someone like me. Now I regret my mistake and want to make amends with my son. I met a woman in Yokohama who advised me to return to Misawa. She believed that somehow my son was in this city at this time."

The young man fell silent, his jaw clenched with tension. They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of their conversation settling heavily upon him.

"What happened to your wife?" the young man finally spoke.

"Her name is Keina. She's in Akita, with her parents. I was often rude to her too. Keina cut off contact with me, saying I could only turn to her after finding my runaway son."

The bus we had been waiting for finally appeared in the distance. The young man grabbed his backpack and rose to his feet.

"Are you taking this bus?" he asked.

The young man nodded.

"How about waiting for the next one? I'll treat you to ramen."

"Sorry, Uncle. I can't stay any longer. I have to go back to Tokyo immediately," said the young man, his gaze fixed on the approaching bus. "I also made a mistake. I left the person who loved me there. I realized too late that I really loved him too."

Him.

This young man referred to the person he loved as "him", and he said it with great conviction, without fear or embarrassment.

Tora nodded.

"Then don't waste any more time..." he patted the young man's back to encourage him. "Before you go, can I ask you a favor?"

The young man nodded, and for the first time, he looked at him directly in the eyes.

"When you arrive in Tokyo, I'm sure you will meet my son. His name is Takeru. Please tell him that I love him very much, and that I am very sorry."

The bus stopped in front of the bus stop. The door opened, and several passengers got off, but the young man didn't move. He just stood still, looking at him.

"You can tell him himself when your son returns to Misawa later, Uncle."

"Do you know when will my son  back?"

The young man took a deep breath and approached the bus door with steady steps. "After he confesses his feelings to the man he loves."

"Sure," Tora nodded, tears welling up in his eyes and blurring his already nearsighted vision. "Please bring the boyfriend too, okay? I want to meet him. I'm sure he's an excellent guy."

The young man looked at him one last time. "In the meantime, what will do, Uncle?"

"I'll wait for them here, in this town," said Tora. "My wife too. This time, I'm sure Keina will come home."