One stress-filled exploration at Nagoya Station and a boring train ride later, we finally arrived at Oe Station. It was nestled in a rather silent part of the city. Although, that might be the wrong adjective to use here. The other side was filled with factories, industries, and warehouses. Just a minor part of the port of Nagoya. Minor in the sense of its contribution, certainly not in its size. It’s huge. Dozens of grey buildings dotted the coastline.

However, the other side was markedly different. The direct nearby area of the station was filled with slightly bustling suburban shops. Or at least a surprising amount of people were doing their shopping. You could then see the imposing social housing of Hoshocho, just down the road. It was like pillars blocking the transient light. You know what? It actually reminded me of video game cartridges placed together, the ones you see in your attic.

Those ‘ash blocks’ that Minoru-san called them? That’s what he called home. I must say, that description isn’t inaccurate. It's a bit busy for 4:14 PM, but then again… what is the normal foot traffic at around this time. Petals from the wilting trees were peacefully landing on Sayako’s face. It was more like a silent crash. If I was Lord Byron, I’d have written a million stanzas over that moment. The patchy skies still dominate the landscape.

“Honzo, is that where Minoru-san lives?” Sayako said, pointing towards the danchi buildings that walled the shops.

“From what the app is saying… I think that is.” I responded to Sayako in a tact similar to a guardian.

Wait. Shouldn’t she be the guardian? I thought that’s what ‘looking over me’ was all about?

“I see Honzo. Let’s go then!”

In her typical cheery manner, she walked towards it, ignoring the fact that we had to cross the rather busy boulevard. It should be an infringement of human rights that these roads are so wide and heavily used. For safety’s sake, I would’ve rather walked over the bridge to go to the other side, where the shops were, but I guess not.

Suddenly, a light drizzle began to fall from the white skies. It was at this moment in our short walk, that the patches of sun were enveloped by the clouds. Never a fully sunny day in this city, isn’t it? It was a slight shower, so we just upped the pace a bit. Sayako began to complain about the weather. Luckily for her, she had a small umbrella in her blazer pockets. I didn’t want to share, but she did ask if I wanted to. As to be expected, I said no.

“Suit yourself, Honzo.”

I did mention to her that I had an umbrella. It was a similar size to the one she was using. However, I didn’t get it out of my bag. For one, I’m lazy. Secondly, and most importantly, it’s my sister’s umbrella. It’s pink with several cutesy icons and flowers embroidered on it. I only use it when it’s raining hard. Sadly, I value protecting my fragile insecurity over actual practical protection against the rain. Honestly, right now? The rain is insignificant.

Past the intersection, we were fully within the maze of the danchi. Why do we call social housing complexes, like this, danchi? Hold on, let me just check my phone quickly. Ah, it says here that danchi is an abbreviation… There is no legal regulation or definition of ‘danchi’ as a term. Is danchi actually a negative term?

Come to think of it… Nagoya doesn’t actually have the term ‘danchi’ in any of the housing near us. All of them end in a suffix of -so. But actually, Hoshocho’s name ends in danchi. Strange. Housing in this country is really weird. Or at least in this corner of Japan.

The downpour, which was already nothing more but a mere few droplets, decided to stop. As we were covering ground, I noticed by the corner of my eye a Cambodian flag by the window. The address that Sensei gave us seemed to correspond with this observation. Me and Sayako were going up to buildings and seeing which number they were.

One could say there were some signs that there were, perhaps, a few social issues in the area. There was graffiti on Block 3 that stated ‘Fuck Motoshio’ and ‘Fuck Greens’. All in English, except for Motoshio, which conserved its kanji. Peculiar. You could tell it was freshly sprayed since you could still sense the sweet smell. I kind of like the aroma. Although, I don’t think Sayako liked it either.

“What does that word mean?” Sayako pointed towards the expletive.

Lucky for her, I do watch a bit of foreign media. ‘Fuck’ is like negative… I think?

“It’s similar to saying ‘I hate X’, I think. So they’re saying ‘I hate Greens’ and ‘I hate Motoshio’.” I explained, to the best of my knowledge.

A bewildered Sayako said “Is that so? I wonder why whoever painted that hates that.”

“I’m not sure either, Sayako. I don’t even know what ‘Greens’ mean, I think that’s a colour, obviously, but for who?”

“We might have to get out of here quickly, Honzo.”

Then I noticed a small area near a playground. It appeared to have several flowers and candlelights around it. A teddy bear was tied to the railings.

“Saya-chan, do you want to see that?” I pointed towards, what appeared to be, a makeshift memorial down the road.

“If you want to, I guess.” She didn’t seem like she wanted to go, but I guess this was the price to pay when you want to follow me.

As I paid my respects, I noticed there was a card. The very first thing that struck me was his age. A 14-year-old. He died recently, around late March when I read the card. I don’t know who he was, but it really was a shame at that age. You could only help but feel sad about it. The weather wasn’t certainly helping the mood. Next, there was a heart-shaped letter in the centre.

‘Koto-chan, I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but know that Mommy and Daddy will love you forever, and ever. From the first day you were in my arms, I always knew that you were special. From the day you took your first steps, to your first day in school, so many memories that I will treasure. I never regretted anything raising you, but the only thing I wish I said was to tell you to stay at home. It really deeply hurts never seeing you smile or dance again. Your two little sisters still don’t understand. Whatever happens, I will never forget you as long as I live. Love, Mom, Dad and your two sisters.’

Similar heartfelt writings hugged the heart. Many of them were laminated, meaning that they wanted it to last as long as possible. Photos were also tied to the fence. I’m surprised that the housing association didn’t remove it. I assume it would spark some tension. After some thought, I gave my small prayers, as a well-meaning gesture. Sayako did the same earlier. I don’t think she fully read the letter. Her eyes looked like any tears could drop anymore.

Death is death. I know, regardless of the life lived, you just die. I might be a bit too apparent and it is a bit cold-hearted to think that by a child’s memorial, but I don’t think I’m wrong? I know the sentiment or the feelings are wrong, and don’t get me wrong, I myself am on the verge of crying, but it’s just… how to cope in a ridiculous world. A real shame. Solemn feelings versus cold logic. Neither really wins, in the end.

This reminded me a lot of when we had to bury my cousins and their mother. I'll be honest, I don’t want to think about it.

“Honzo, are you okay?” Sayako notices a few tears drop.

“I’m not crying Sayako. Let’s go find Minoru-san’s home, okay.” I angrily responded but in a still somewhat calm state.

“I didn’t say you were, but sorry, Honzo. Let’s go then.”

I really am sorry, Sayako. I’m not really brave enough to apologize. I’m sure she knows. She is aware of what happened to my family because I had to explain it once to her since I’m known as the ‘moody 1st year’ of Aisaihashi. Not really an accurate term and it died by the end of the first year once people realized it was wrong.

The both of us walked back to where we noticed the Cambodian flag. We entered Block 4. I think that’s what it's called. It was where Minoru-san’s address was located. The entrance was a rather small one, and its staircase tight at two persons' width.

Both of us reached the third floor.