Hanami
Hanagoromo, maroon silk, pink cherry blossom pattern, one unit of. Folding fan, matching, one unit of. Obi, same pattern, colors reversed, one unit of. Getas, cherry blossom decoration on maroon hanao, one pair of. Barrette, cherry blossom, one unit of. Eye shadow, pink, a subtle touch of. Nail polish, maroon, one bottle of. Lipstick, red, one unit of. Smack of the lips. Now all I have to do is show off to Naruto, then we can attend the cherry blossom viewing. The sakurazensen only lasts for so long. Shame, really.
I present myself in all my glory, holding the fan like that cover of Memoirs of a Geisha, winking.
You've really outdone yourself, Sakura-chan. With that getup, we don't even need to go. We have all the hanaakari right here.—Oh, stop, I playfully scold. You're going whether you like it or not, so stop flattering. Miffed because he has to wear orange kimono and black hakama as opposed to usual orange and black jumpsuit.
If that's the way you're gonna be, fine. I'll just have to enjoy all the shusen by myself. A knowing and resigned smirk. You win.
I take his hand, us cantering once outside through a tunnel of red red evening sky then a tunnel of cherry trees with their hanafubuki, until we come to a place I reserved just for us. And what a sacred spot! Past the entrance of a Shinto shrine marked by the most elaborate torii reinforced with gold that could rival any Inari shrine. Under the largest and most elaborately gnarled cherry tree wrapped with a shimenawa and with blossoms and petals so pink they practically glow like the lanterns hung for what is now yozakura. True hanaakari. And to top it all off, there's a view of the most recent village we vagabonded, a view just like Tokyo, Japan's answer to Paris.
Under the tree, I spread the blanket and we sit down, items materializing from my two picnic baskets. Limited edition ramen with fishcakes shaped like cherry blossoms. Sakuramochi. Hanami dango. Sakuradzuke. Pickled cherry blossoms. A kettle of boiling water for the ramen and to boil the sakuradzuke into that delicious drink sakurayu. And last but not least, a bottle of sake sold to become hanamizake. Pretty hefty price, but I got a discount on everything.
—Damn, girl. With that pink mop, ya really look the part. They shoulda named ya Cherry Blossom.
—Funny you should say that, because my name is Cherry Blossom.
—No shit?
—No shit.
A raising of sakazuki as the moon with its mochi-pounding rabbit rises above this sacred shrine. A toast, Naruto says. To the pink beauties above me…and one right in front of me. Corny, I know, but coming from someone as crassly unromantic as my Naruto-baka, I'll take it. Kampai. A clink of plastic. Man, just think, Sakura-chan! You're named after a flower that symbolizes an entire nation. That's more than I can say for me, named after a fucking ramen topping.
But I'm thinking of other things, like the death motif surrounding my namesake. How the cherry blossom symbolized samurai because of their short lifespan. Nothing pink can stay. Spectacles of glory one day, scattered to the winds and passed over for momijigari the next. THANK YOU, COME AGAIN NEXT YEAR. And that short story by Kajii Motojirō, the one beginning with Sakura no ki no shita ni wa shitai ga umatte iru! Dead bodies are buried under the cherry trees! Whose grave are we treading upon? And here I am sitting on a blue blanket, with no intention of dying for nothing or nobody.
Tan hand in front of my face waving, scattering my thoughts to the wind like the hanafubuki. You okay, Sakura-chan? You were really spacing out there.
I turn and face the kitsune-gao of my baka, which I gather in both hands to drink in like the now-spilled hanamizake. It's nothing, I whisper when we part lips. I think the sakurayu must be ready now. For the rest of the evening, we enjoy the food and drink in silence, an occasional nuzzle here and kiss there. But not once do we look at or mention my namesake again, reminding me of that saying hana yori dango. Dumplings rather than flowers. Missing the point of Hanami. But right now, I'm all for missing the point. Carpe diem, not mono no aware. What does that say about me? You decide.
Glossary
Hanagoromo: fancy kimono worn for cherry blossom viewing
Geta: traditional Japanese thong sandal usually with two stands at the bottom and hanao (thong) to hold foot in place.
Sakurazensen: Japanese. Literally, "cherry blossom front," the blossom forecast made by the weather bureau shortly before Hanami.
Hanaakari: Japanese. "The brilliance of cherry blossoms which illuminate the evening."
Hakama: article of clothing sometimes worn over kimonos.
Shusen: Japanese. "Food and (alcoholic) drink."
Hanafubuki: Japanese. "Falling cherry blossoms."
Torii: gateway to a Shinto shrine
Shimenawa: Japanese. "Enclosing rope." Sacred ropes with shide (paper streamers) used to ward off evil spirits. Often found in Shinto shrines.
Yozakura: Japanese. Literally "night Sakura." Hanami at night.
Sakuramochi: rice cake with bean paste wrapped in a cherry leaf
Sakurayu: drink made of boiled water poured over sakuradzuke.
Hanamizake: sake drunk while viewing cherry blossoms
Sakazuki: sake cup
Momijigari: Japanese. "Autumn leaf viewing."
Mono no aware: Japanese. Literally "the pathos of things." Also translated as "empathy towards things." First coined by Edo period cultural scholar Motoori Morinaga in his literary criticism of The Tales of Genji, it has since become central to cultural tradition, an example being the cherry blossom motif.
