The cherry blossoms that once covered the trees in gorgeous spring air have, over the past few days, begun to transform into a vibrant carpet covering the ground. The cherry blossom season is coming to an end, and the sunlight seems to be getting stronger.

Since her husband Haruo passed away recently from a heart condition he had suffered from for many years, Shizu has spent many days staring blankly out the window. Worried about Shizu, her son Yoshihiro and his wife Mami, who live nearby, have started coming over to check on her frequently.

When the cherry blossoms in town had completely turned to leaves, the traditional 49th-day memorial service for Haruo was held. As busy days passed, Shizu spent her days listlessly, unsure how to face the cold wind that mercilessly blew through the gaping hole in her heart.

Even so, she never failed to water the potted plants in the garden, which her husband had treasured during his lifetime. To Shizu, the flowers and trees that her husband had cared for were proof of his life and mementos that he had left behind. After giving the potted plants in the garden plenty of water, she muttered to herself, “Dear, everyone is doing well today,” and then Shizu looked up at the cloudless blue sky and took a deep breath. The blue of the sky stings her eyes.

After finishing her morning routine of watering, the potted plants and heading inside the house to prepare breakfast, Shizu’s eye suddenly caught a little table clock. The clock was peeking out from inside a paper bag containing items that had been brought back from Haruo’s hospital room after he had passed away. After the bag was brought home, it had been quietly placed in a corner of the room, between pieces of furniture, as if hiding something she didn’t want to remember. Shizu had known that she would have to sort through the contents eventually but had not yet been able to get started.

They have had a long relationship with this table clock. It’s a small, unremarkable clock, measuring just 4 inches square, that her husband had received as some sort of a prize some time ago. It’s gold-plated and shaped like a bell. Atop the bell are two bird-shaped sculptures, lined up side by side, facing each other and gazing at each other, perched on the bell. When Shizu and Haruo first saw the birds on the clock, both commented that they resembled Pico and Poosuke, a pair of parakeets that had died one after the other the previous year. Since then, the couple began to talk to the two birds on the bell rather than to the clock itself. Their conversations would begin with reminiscing about Pico and Poosuke, and sometimes they would burst out laughing. The clock, which brought back fond memories of happy times for the couple, had become like a part of their family.

However, something unfortunate happened. This memorable clock suddenly stopped working around the time Haruo passed away. Because it was a battery-operated clock, until now, whenever the hands of the clock started to slow down, she would assume it was time to replace the battery and replaced it with a new one. After replacing the battery, it would start keeping accurate time again, so she was relieved. However, last winter, just around the time Haruo was hospitalized, the movement of the clock’s hands began to deteriorate significantly, and no matter how many times the batteries were relaced, the effect no longer lasted. Now, since Haruo passed away, the hands of the clock have completely stopped moving. As Shizu gazed sadly at the clock peeking out of the paper bag, wondering if it had really broken, a strange incident that had happened while Haruo was in hospital came back to her mind.

This was when Haruo was still hospitalized. Haruo’s hospital room was on the third floor of the South Ward, in a four-person room, by the window, and the large window offered a great view of the outside. Next to his bed, there was a shelf with double doors underneath the drawers, inside which he could store his personal belongings, and above it there was space for a television, remote control, glasses, etc. The hospital building faces a major road where buses pass by, but the grounds also have a large garden surrounded by lush greenery, which provided a relaxing space for patients and visitors alike.

From the window of Haruo’s hospital room, he could see the hospital entrance that led to the bus route. Every morning, at 11:00 a.m. when visiting hours began, Haruo would sit by the window on his bed and look out the window, waiting for Shizu to arrive. Then, when visiting hours ended and it was time for her to return home, he would stand by the window in his hospital room again and watch Shizu walk away as she headed for the bus stop. When Shizu would arrive near the bus stop and turn around to wave back at him, it was his daily routine to wave back in return.

One day, Haruo asked to have a clock brought from home. He wanted to know when the doctor’s rounds were and when it was time for meals. So Shizu decided to put this clock on a shelf in Haruo’s hospital room. The small size of this clock was perfect for the limited space in the hospital. Haruo was pleased, saying, “It feels like Pico and Poosuke are together, so I don’t feel lonely.”

However, strange things began to happen. The clock had kept accurate time without any problems when it was kept at home, but after it was placed in the hospital room, it began to lose time little by little. Shizu thought, “Maybe it’s time to change the battery…” and bought a new one to replace, but after a while the clock began to lose time again. Wanting to keep the clock in Haruo’s hospital room, Shizu took it to a familiar watch store run by one of Haruo’s golfing buddies and asked for it to be repaired. This old-fashioned watch store, with its display case packed with watches, is located in a corner of the local shopping district. In order to contribute to the sales of his friend’s shop, the couple had decided to always buy their watches from this shop. Shizu explained the situation to the familiar shop owner, asked him to repair the clock, and hurried home.

A few days after requesting the repair, Shizu received a message on her answering machine from the watch store saying the repairs were complete. The next morning, Shizu planned to first retrieve the clock and then head straight to the hospital where Haruo was staying.

The rain from the night before had mixed with snow, and the wind on her cheeks felt especially cold. Shizu ran into the just opened watch store to escape the cold. The shop owner was surprised by the early morning visitor who had burst in before he had even finished cleaning the shop, and immediately stopped what he was doing and turned toward the entrance.

“Welcome!”
When the shop owner realized it was Shizu who had entered the shop, he greeted her with a brilliant smile.
“Ah, good morning, ma’am. You’re up so early this morning.”
“What were the results of your husband’s recent examination?”
“Oh, that’s right, you are here for the clock, aren’t you?”
“I checked it out throughly, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong.”
“For now, I just polished up the parts and replaced the battery.”
“There’s no charge for you.”
“Are you going to visit him in the hospital now? Please tell your husband, ‘Take care of himself. Let’s play golf again when he’s released.’”

With this, he sent Shizu off, rambling on, before returning to cleaning the shop. Relieved to hear that the clock was intact, Shizu put it in the bag she’d brought with her. Hoping to see her husband’s happy face, she quickly walked down the familiar path to the hospital, rubbing her numb hands in the cold weather.

Shizu had a reason for wanting to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Her husband, Haruo, had heart problems and underwent surgery about 10 years ago. He was fine for a while after the surgery, but overexertion afterwards caused his condition to worsen, and eventually fluid began to build up in his lungs. Since then, he had relied on a portable oxygen tank for his daily life. But one night, just after 1 a.m., Haruo’s breathing suddenly became heavy and heaving, and he began to struggle more than ever before. Shizu immediately called her son, Yoshihiro, and drove Haruo to the hospital where he was treated.

Once at the hospital, Haruo was examined immediately and admitted. The doctor in charge took out the chest X-ray that Haruo had taken when he was taken to the hospital, as well as the results of various tests, and told Shizu and Yoshihiro, who were also present, that Haruo’s heart was becoming significantly weaker and that anything fatal could happen at any time. Shizu knew that her husband’s condition was not improving but hearing that prognosis from the doctor face to face was still a great shock.

From then on, Shizu began to spend every last visiting hour at the hospital by Haruo’s side. She was always smiling in front of him, and on nice days she would dress him warmly, put him in a wheelchair, and take him out of the hospital room for a change of pace. As they walked together through the hospital garden surrounded by trees, they would reminisce about old times and laugh happily together.
Seeing Haruo’s smile,
           (I wish time would stop just like this…)
Shizu cried out in her heart over and over again….
She could hear birds chirping carried on the wind through the trees, as if gently responding to Shizu’s silent cry from her heart.

After dinner in the hospital room, visiting hours ended and Shizu went home with Haruo’s laundry and other things. After he watched Shizu left as usual, Haruo picked up the remote control to watch the TV next to his bed. Next to the remote were the clock of Pico and Poosuke that Shizu had brought back from the watch store, saying that there was “nothing wrong with them.” Haruo gently said “good night” to the two birds and fell asleep while watching TV.

The next morning, as usual, Shizu was in Haruo’s hospital room two minutes after visiting hours began. Upon entering the room, she greeted the other patients in the same room and then made her way to the window where Haruo’s bed was. She slightly opened the curtain separating the beds and peered inside, but Haruo was not in bed. According to the patient in the bed next to him, a nurse had taken Haruo for an examination. While her husband was away, Shizu decided to tidy up the hospital room, and began cleaning up his locker, the shelf where he kept his underwear and towels, and the refrigerator that he shared with his roommates. She wiped down the shelf where the television was, and when she picked up the small items on top of it and the clock of Pico and Poosuke to wipe them, she noticed that the hands of the clock were slow again. 

“That’s strange… I just had it checked by the watchmaker the other day, yet it’s already slow again…” Shizu stopped wiping the clock and manually turned the screw on the back, adjusting the hands to the correct time. Piko and Poosuke, side by side and gazing at each other on their perch, looked just like themselves, and as she gazed at the two of them, she cried out in her heart as if praying:
          (Please…)
          (Our time together…, just stop like this.)
Shizu’s heartbreaking cry, as if tearing at her soul, echoed and was absorbed into the air.

A few days later, she received an early morning phone call from the hospital. Haruo’s condition had suddenly worsened, and they asked the family to come to the hospital immediately. The moment Shizu had feared the most had arrived. Haruo never woke up from his coma and passed away peacefully at 7:57 a.m. on March 5th. The days that followed were unbearably long and empty for Shizu. Every time she recalled Haruo’s final moments, which were still burned into her memory, she felt a weakness in her body and a tightness in her chest.

“Chirp-chirp”
“Tweet-tweet”

Drifted by the morning breeze carrying the scent of early summer, the birdsong can be heard through the gaps in the trees. The gentle sound of birds’ chirp soothes the soul. After finish watering the potted plants in their garden, Shizu returned to the house with the empty watering can in hand. As she walked in, her gaze happened to fall upon the clock that holds memories for her, and she found herself lost in thoughts of days gone by.

She was recalling the strange events that had happened to the clock. The clock had been running accurately when it was at home. But when it was taken to Haruo’s hospital room, the hands began to lose time little by little, and it finally stopped working around the same time as her husband passed away.

“I may have to say goodbye to this clock already…”
She hesitated but felt it might be better to move forward without dwelling on the past. Shizu brought a soft cloth and wiped the clock as if polishing every inch of it, as if reluctant to part with it.

“Thank you for everything,” she said.
Then she looked at the clock one last time and suddenly noticed something.
The clock of Pico and Poosuke had stopped at 7:56 a.m.
7:56 a.m.….
Haruo had died at 7:57 a.m…
The clock of Pico and Poosuke had stopped one minute earlier….

Could something like this really happen…?
What a coincidence…
At 7:56 a.m….
My husband was still breathing…
His body was still warm, and he was definitely alive.

Even if it was just one minute, I would love to go back to that moment.
I would love to go back and see my husband alive.

Could such a coincidence really exist…?
But if this isn’t a coincidence, then what is it…?

Shizu didn’t want to leave it, and half-believing, decided to try the clock again. That night, she replaced the battery with a new one, reset the clock’s hands to the correct time, and placed it on top of the storage closet next to the television before going to bed before 10 o’clock at night.

The next morning, Shizu woke up around 6 o’clock as usual. She couldn’t help but worry about the clock. She looked at the clock dial timidly and saw that it was running accurately without any delays. She felt a sense of relief that there was nothing wrong with her precious clock, but at the same time, she wondered…

Then, why did the hands stop at 7:56 a.m…?
Was it just a coincidence…?

A feeling of unease remained in Shizu’s mind. She couldn’t help but worry, so from around 7:50 a.m. she sat down in front of the storage closet where the clock was placed, and stared intently at the clock. The clock continued to tick as if nothing had happened, as if the fact that it had stopped working up until then was an illusion.

7:55 a.m. 
1 minute to go.

Shizu didn’t take her eyes off the clock for even a second. Then, mysteriously, the hands of the clock, which had been moving smoothly up until then, stopped dead at 7:56 a.m. and never moved again. Seeing this, Shizu’s eyes grew hot and tears began to flow uncontrollably.

No way…
Is that so…
Is that really so…

While it was in Haruo’s hospital room, the clock resisted the flow of time, even though the batteries had been replaced countless times, as if to prevent the light of Haruo’s life from going out. Then, as Haruo’s final moments approached, the clock stopped time on its own, as if in a spirit of utmost defiance.

Thank you…
Thank you so much…

But it’s okay.
It’s all right now…

Saying this, Shizu clutched the clock to her chest and cried out loud. Large tears fell one by one onto her hands as she held the clock. With tear-soaked hands, Shizu adjusted the clock’s hands to be precise.

From that day on, the clock’s hands never ran slow again.

“Chirp-chirp”
“Tweet-tweet”

A soft wind gently passed through the house.
From the nearby thicket of trees, birdsong drifted on the wind.

           (Thank you for remembering us and loving us.)
                                        … So it sounded to me.