I looked at the stack of papers bound with rasa string in my hands. My eyes scanned through the words, even though I already knew them by heart. I'd spent countless hours looking through it again and again, rereading,editing. Messy scribbles and arrows were scattered all over the papers, words covered every inch of them. At the top of the first page, it read "Whisper of the Heart". My masterpiece. It was finally finished.
I climbed uphill as drops of rain began to fall from the dark grey sky. "Oh no!" I gasped, and quickly opened my umbrella. I hugged the papers closer to my body, trying to protect it from the rain as much as I could. Finally, I arrived in front of the publishing house. I took a deep breath, and then pushed open the glass door while announcing "Sorry to intrude!"
The publishing house was just as messy as my apartment. Papers and books strewn everywhere, stacked up higgledy piggeldy. In one corner dirty ceramic mugs and saucers had been piled in a teetering tower in a sink. There was a large, rather battered looking wooden desk in the centre of the room, where an old white bearded man sat, wolfing down a bento box. When he saw me, he looked up but did not stop eating.
"Yesh? How may I help chu?" he inquired with his mouth full.
Although I was slightly angered at the man's manners (or lack thereof) I decided that I ought to be polite to him. After all, it's not a good idea to make an enemy of one's potential publisher, I thought. So, as courteously as I could, I said "Good afternoon. I am here to see the publisher—he has agreed to take a look at my work."
"Shertainly. Pleash wait a bit," the man replied. He lifted up his bento box, shoved the last remains into his mouth and got up. "Right this way!" he said, wiping his mouth on his grubby sleeve.
He led me to a small door with a rusty plaque hanging on it. I could just make out the words "publisher". "Here it is," the old man beamed and pounded his great big fist on the door.
"Come in!" another, younger sounding man's voice could be heard from the other side.
"Thank you," I said softly, and bowed to the old man, noticing a grain of rice stuck to his bushy white beard. Then, gathering my courage, I twisted the rusty brass doorknob…
Half an hour later I left the publishing house with mixed feelings. True, the publisher had read through my story from beginning to end, but what he said hadn't shown any interest. He had simply told me "I'll consider it."
At least it's stopped raining, I comforted myself. I looked up to see a piece of clear robin-egg blue sky. The bruised clouds had rolled away, allowing a shaft of bright afternoon sunlight to come down from the heavens. The warmth of the sun's rays gave me renewed vigor, and a smile spread across my face. I knew that even if I failed, I wouldn't be too upset, because I knew I had tried my best.
"I wonder if there'll be a rainbow?" I pondered out loud.
"Maybe," a voice said from behind me.
I spun around immediately. That voice! I recognized it…
And there he stood. Seiji.
A sudden breeze ruffled my hair as I stared at him in shock, and he smiled at me with that smile I'd seen so many times in my dreams since he'd left for Italy.
"You idiot! You didn't tell me…" then words left me and I started to choke up. I could feel tears well up in my eyes, misting my vision. I saw him spread out his arms wide, and instinctively I ran towards him.
"Seiji!" was the only thing I could croak as I crashed into his chest. I felt his arms wrap around me in a warm embrace. Tears of joy were tumbling down my cheeks and my whole body was shuddering with great big sobs. I felt like such a fool to cry like a baby in front of him, but at the same time I couldn't care less. He was back, and that was all that mattered.
He bent down and tenderly planted a soft, feather-like kiss on my forehead.
"I'm home," he whispered gently.