Reunion in Tokyo || A Long-Awaited Road Trip, Falling in Love with the Reflection of Myself in Your Eyes

📍 Tokyo · 👁 1 reads · ❤️ 103 likes

Story by: Corner Universe no Hoshiko

He and I met in junior high school and had a good relationship until we deleted each other's contact info in college for some reason, only occasionally interacting in the class group. After graduating from college, I got a job offer from a company in Tokyo and ended up staying here. During that time, we never contacted each other privately, and five years passed in the blink of an eye.

My first impression of Tokyo was a maze of subway lines, colorful neon billboards on the streets, a magical city hiding unknown excitement and thrill.

But now... the busy, routine life of a big city feels like an invisible, tight net.

The habitual overtime, the gradually固化社交 circle—everything makes fatigue accumulate without me noticing.

Tokyo changes every day, and I am no longer the newcomer I once was.

I seem to have caught a bit of the so-called "Tokyo vibe," yet I feel like I'll never truly belong here.

He arrived in Tokyo on a Friday evening flight. After years without seeing each other, he looked more mature around the eyes and brows.

To break the awkwardness, I quickly pulled out some local specialties I bought at the station and told him to have them as a late-night snack at the hotel.

"In Japan, there's a custom of preparing gifts when meeting someone," I explained for no particular reason.

"That's a good habit." Well, I guess I didn't need to explain much to this idiot.

Considering his travel fatigue, I arranged for us to have ramen nearby for dinner.

Ramen is a must-try food when coming to Japan.

Japanese ramen is all about the broth; the more traditional flavors include pork bone, soy sauce, and miso.

You don't have to visit the trendy shops; any small, random shop will serve decent ramen.

Sitting side by side at the narrow counter seats, I tried to make conversation by talking about a book I had read that detailed the history of ramen.

Apparently, ramen was first introduced to Japan by Chinese chefs in the Yokohama area. Back then, it was considered the cheapest food for the common people because it was convenient, filling, and affordable. As the economy grew, ramen gradually became a cultural symbol of Japan, known worldwide.

"Japan's ability to constantly innovate and unify a single thing until it becomes a symbol is really impressive," he said, then added, "Like Honda cars—I can't wait to visit the Honda Museum."

"I knew you'd bring up Honda. Still the same after all these years," I teased.

I first showed two photos of the silly kid grinning like an idiot after picking up the Vezel...

The distance between us gradually shortened with laughter. For some reason, the city we were in, Tokyo, seemed a little gentler too.

Before parting, he took out a beautifully wrapped gift box and said, "This is for you. It's not about politeness or custom—I just wanted to buy it for you."

I opened the box and found an electronic drawing tablet, along with a handwritten card.

"You drew my first Honda car, right? I said back then I'd support your drawing. Now I finally have the means to buy you something practical. Keep it up."

The handwriting was crooked, and next to it was a car with the word "Honda" on it, along with a note saying "This is a car" because his drawing was so bad.

The night was deep. Looking at the moon hanging outside the window, I inexplicably laughed. I couldn't tell him that since becoming a working adult, I hadn't picked up a paintbrush in a long time.

He still remembered the dream I had long abandoned.

On a whim, I picked up my phone and sent a message:

"I got my leave approved. Starting tomorrow, I'll show you around Japan~"

Actually, I had already taken the time off, but the city life, full of hidden traps, made me subconsciously plan a Plan B.

Suddenly, I realized that he had just asked me what I liked. Five years ago, he was a guy who just talked about Honda cars and seemed too self-centered in my eyes.

Over these years, in a completely different city, he must have encountered—or be going through—people or things that made him change.

Someone who was once so close, the evening study sessions we endured together in junior high, now felt so distant.

Walking side by side into Senso-ji Temple, I felt an inexplicable loneliness rise in my heart.

Like other temples and shrines in Japan, you need to wash your hands and purify your heart before drawing a fortune slip. I asked him if he wanted to draw one. He glanced at me and said, "What does it say on the slip?"

"Things like career, travel, love fortunes."

"There's love? Then I'll pass."

"Oh, so you already have someone in mind, and things are going smoothly, nothing to divine?" I love a good gossip.

"Half and half."

He's learned to be mysterious now. His game has leveled up after all these years. I didn't press further and took out a map to explain the next stop, but he suddenly said, "Let's go to the Koganehashi Bridge baseball field to see the Sky Tree."

"Huh? You know that place??" I got into the passenger seat, full of suspicion.

It was the rainy season, and the sky outside was gray and gloomy. I sneaked a glance at him, focused on driving. Besides a faint nervousness, I felt a sense of unreality. He turned his head to look at me, and I quickly averted my eyes. He said, "Want to play some music? Try the Bluetooth."

Almost without thinking, I played the theme song of "Tokyo Love Story," "A Sudden Love."

The streetscape receded, and the music felt like some kind of magic, gradually relaxing the air.

To most people, this was just an ordinary, mundane riverbank in Japan. The dark green grass slope stretched out, and occasionally people jogging or biking would pass by.

When I first started working in Tokyo, I used to ride my bike here to sketch. Apart from the Sky Tower rising high above the low houses in the distance, it was also because of the Arakawa River, which separated the tower from the baseball field.

"Arakawa Under the Bridge" is one of my favorite anime. Just as he had always dreamed of traveling to Japan because he loved Honda cars, Japanese anime was my initial motivation for wanting to learn Japanese and live in Japan. I wanted to record everything I saw in this country and create works that could touch people's hearts.

Childhood dreams were pure because I didn't know how big the world was, but they seemed fragile when faced with reality.

"You once posted a painting in the group chat," he suddenly said. "It had the Sky Tree and this river called Arakawa. I wanted to come and see if your painting looked like the real thing."

So that's why he wanted to come here.

I almost blurted out how much "Arakawa Under the Bridge" had influenced me and how I was feeling right then, but I was afraid of the questions that might follow.

Are you still drawing? Weren't you going to keep creating?

Staring at the Sky Tree, the tallest tower-type building in the world, I just made small talk: "I almost forgot about that... You could have just had me send you a picture. Why go out of your way to come here?"

"Is that electronic drawing tablet working well?" he asked instead of answering.

Neither of us answered each other's questions. The app randomly played a Japanese song called "Ghost Tokyo."

"The reflection in the glass window was not the self I dreamed of//目に映るガラス窓にいたのは、夢見た自分じゃなくて

今にも泣きだしてしまいそうな……哀しい人"

"I really like your paintings. The lines are soft, the colors bright, and they feel so warm," he suddenly said.

Hearing this, I looked toward the driver's seat. He smiled back at me.

"Ghost Tokyo" continued to play in the car, and the speakers were still singing the line:

"Even so, I still want to move forward because you're here//それでも先へなんて思えるのは、君がいるから"

He kept talking: "In junior high, you wanted to come to Japan, and I liked Honda. Now you've been living in Tokyo for years, and I'm about to buy my first Honda. We should have a drink tonight to celebrate our dreams coming true."

Can "dreams" be such simple things?

I couldn't ask, but I just looked at the sincere curve of his lips and couldn't help smiling too.

The red-and-white Tokyo Tower is, of course, the most iconic landmark to check off in Tokyo. This self-supporting iron tower, the third tallest in the world, lights up after sunset, and its colors change with the four seasons.

It's also a filming location for many Japanese dramas, where countless classic love stories have played out.

I had been to Tokyo Tower twice before.

The first time was with my Japanese colleague Shimizu, and the second time was also with my Japanese colleague Shimizu.

But the first time, after reaching the top and walking back to the subway station, Shimizu confessed his feelings, and we became lovers. The second time I went to Tokyo Tower, I had to muster up the courage to face the fact that we were about to break up.

Two people coming from different pasts simply couldn't keep moving toward the same future. The reason for the breakup was ordinary, and even though Tokyo Tower was the backdrop, it was just an insignificant episode in life—nothing that would stop me from coming to Tokyo Tower again.

"東京タワー" he read aloud.

"Oh, not a bad pronunciation."

"Actually, I studied Japanese for a while," he said with a raised eyebrow. "I even thought about coming to Japan to work in the future, since this is the homeland of Honda cars."

Oh no, I thought to myself. If I just go along with a word about Honda, this topic will never stop. Sure enough—

"I got the lottery for a license plate. I can finally get my first Honda. It's the Vezel I always talked about. It looks good, the interior is well-designed, and it's perfect for road trips."

The road was lined with greenery, and as Tokyo Tower gradually grew larger in view, he kept talking about Honda cars, his tone as light and firm as when he was young, but his words were richer and more well-founded.

This is what it's like to love something, isn't it? And that love has lasted so many years, still fulfilling in reality. I used to think he was too self-centered, but now I find it so pure and... cute?

They say that when you find someone cute, you must have fallen for them.

I walked ahead toward Tokyo Tower, constantly recalling the details of my time with Shimizu, trying to uproot the seed that had suddenly sprouted in my heart.

It was a rainy season, and the surroundings looked like a photo with lowered saturation—gentle and harmonious.

Walking to the temple at the foot of Tokyo Tower, I remembered that when I came here before, I thought it was a great spot for a photo. But the first time I was too nervous to remember, and the second time, after breaking up, Shimizu was already walking away. I never got that photo.

I turned around and found him holding up a camera. The shutter clicked, and I couldn't help laughing.

An imagined scene from somewhere, realized years later by someone else—is this a kind of serendipity after taking a detour?

But seeing all his changes, he must have someone else he likes.

Driving to Odaiba, I played a Chinese playlist—Jay Chou, Jin Haixin, JJ Lin... The car's sound system was excellent. We sang all the way and were still reluctant to stop when we arrived.

"Tomorrow we'll take the expressway. You can sing well," he said with a big smile.

In the past, Odaiba was a place where artillery batteries were set up for defense. In today's peaceful times, this artificial island has become Tokyo's newest entertainment hub. As a popular tourist spot, Odaiba has convenient free buses, a giant Gundam, and various specialty stores.

But the purpose of our trip wasn't Odaiba itself, but the nearby Tokyo Bay.

Car enthusiasts will surely know the beltway around Tokyo Bay—it's a popular spot for people to take photos with their cars.

Along the way, I was stopped by a poster, reminded of an exhibition for the anime "Natsume's Book of Friends" that I had visited before.

He said, "You've always liked these things, haven't changed at all over the years."

"I do like them, but when it comes to drawing them myself..."

"Draw if you want, rest if you don't. Why put so much pressure on yourself?"

That anime has many lines I love, but the one that sticks with me the most is: "As long as there is someone you want to see, you are no longer alone."

On the way to Tokyo Bay, I couldn't help sharing it with him. He listened, then looked down with a shy, restrained smile.

"What? That's kind of cheesy," I teased.

"How do you say that in Japanese? Send it to me later, okay? I think it's really well said."

I took out my phone, half-doubting, and typed in the chat:

会いたい人がいれば、もうきっと一人じゃない。

He glanced at the phone screen and kept holding back a smile. I was completely confused.

When we arrived at Tokyo Bay, night was falling. The evening breeze had scattered some of the dark clouds, and the pale blue-gray sky reflected the faint lights of the Rainbow Bridge spanning across Tokyo Bay. It was the night scenery of Tokyo that I hadn't taken the time to appreciate in a long time.

The sea breeze kept blowing over my excited heart. The taillights cast a hazy deep red on his silhouette.

"Why do I have a sense of déjà vu, a feeling that I've already been here with you, even though I know this is definitely the first time," I blurted out without thinking.

"Because this was a promise made in junior high. Even though you deleted me after college, I never forgot this promise."

"Oh~" I nodded and looked into the distance. In my mind, I grumbled, "It was because your girlfriend at the time was suspicious of our relationship that I deleted you in a fit of anger."

"Then why didn't you add me back?"

"I came to see you directly, didn't I?"

"After five years?"

I regretted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth. But thankfully, he didn't seem to mind. I said "thankfully," but I also felt a little disappointed.

For dinner, I took him to Isoya Suisan near the hotel. He refused to drink, saying he had a long drive tomorrow. So I drank alone—carbonated red wine, plum wine, cocktails, one after another.

This is a 24-hour izakaya, cheap and delicious. I really like their tuna sashimi with scallions, which has fried garlic chips and is served with fruit vinegar—perfect with alcohol. The grilled crab miso is also a five-star recommendation. It's not as one-dimensional as some places; this one seems to have special ingredients added, making the flavor richer.

After a few drinks, I opened up.

It's not unusual to struggle alone in Tokyo. These days, most young people from small towns leave their hometowns to try their luck in first-tier cities, domestically or abroad. In that sense, maybe there's no essential difference. But the fact that I stopped drawing has always been a knot in my heart. It's not that I'm too busy, but rather that no one else seemed to care whether I was still drawing. Letting it fizzle out didn't seem so bad.

"Work is busy, life is tiring. If you feel stressed, go out and relax. Don't rush to draw conclusions about many things," he said, and then added, "I've always liked your paintings, starting from the first Honda car in junior high."

When I got home, I set up the electronic drawing tablet he gave me and began to sketch, stroke by stroke. The song "Ghost Tokyo" played in the background.

"Daijoubu, itsuka daijoubu ni naru"

The blurry images from my memory gradually became clear on the screen.

Away from the city, the scenery outside the window turned green. Rain began to fall, drops hitting the clear glass, adding a touch of moisture to the green on the other side. Everything became more vivid. He occasionally sang along with the songs from the speakers: "If I hadn't met you, where would I be..."

"By the way, there's a rain-drawing Kannon temple along the way. It's a famous spot for hydrangeas. I've always wanted to go but never had the chance to drive there..."

"Let's go! Set the navigation."

He answered without hesitation. I quickly said, "Let's go to the Honda Museum first. What if it's too late in the afternoon—"

"It's fine. I can go back to China a few days later. If not, I can come again next time. It's just a plane ticket."

"Time passes quickly, I only care about you." I sang along too.

"Japanese mountain roads are really narrow. It's a bit nerve-wracking on the turns. When you go on road trips, you need a reliable driver—like me," he said with a smile. "The Vezel handles really well. Even with all these turns, it doesn't wobble much. And it's powerful with no jerking, just smooth, continuous output."

Hearing him say that, I almost couldn't sing anymore. I turned to look at his serious face and finally burst out laughing.

I never thought a car-loving boy could be so cute. Thinking about the two drawings I started yesterday, some feelings, once sprouted, can't be suppressed.

I think I kind of like him.

It's different from the feeling I had for my Japanese colleague Shimizu after I came to Japan. This is a kind of affection that started paving its way since junior high. Though I was slow to realize it, it feels familiar and reassuringly safe.

In the mountains of Ibaraki Prefecture, the Amehiki Kannon Temple is covered with cherry blossoms in spring and hydrangeas in the rainy season.

After parking, the rain grew heavier. I opened a transparent umbrella and walked among the flowers.

Just like how the destination of a trip doesn't depend on whether it's trendy but on whether you like it, a sunny day isn't the only good weather. When viewing hydrangeas, a drizzling rain is the best match.

The stone steps were firm but narrow, layered and stretching deep into the flower bushes. The rain gradually lightened along the way. In the middle of the path, we met a little white cat. I cautiously approached it, and it wasn't afraid. It affectionately stretched out its little head and rubbed against my hand.

The temple grounds were wider than I imagined. The summer wind brought rain, lightly brushing my face, cool. Under the eaves, a peacock walked by, leisurely and content.

This is the peace and comfort you can only feel away from the big city. I think I fell in love with road trips at that moment.

"The staff deliberately cut these hydrangeas and placed them in the pond, seems to encourage growth."

"Its flower language includes 'hope,' 'blissful reunion,' and 'capriciousness'—quite inconsistent."

"The rice balls and yogurt we bought this morning are still in the car. Let's eat them here. Speaking of which, the back seats can fold flat, increasing storage space, perfect for a picnic in the car."

We chatted casually, occasionally stopping to watch the people ahead. There were mothers holding children's hands, and elderly couples enjoying the flowers together. He and I blended into this crowd, looking like the most ordinary pair of friends. It felt like just a regular day off, where we could meet anywhere in Tokyo even after tomorrow.

But he's going back tomorrow.

On the way to the Honda Museum, I fell asleep without realizing it. When I woke up, the car was already parked in the museum's parking lot. Soft piano music I couldn't name was playing through the speakers. He was sitting in the driver's seat, flipping through a booklet.

"What does this mean?" He spread the booklet in front of me when he saw I was awake.

"Let me see," I said, taking the booklet, then added, "Sorry, you're the one driving, and I fell asleep."

He shook his head and smiled, "You must work hard usually. When we first met a couple of days ago, you looked pretty tired. Isn't it good to get some extra sleep?"

This kind of interaction made me feel like the unconnected years weren't five at all. It felt like yesterday when I watched him play basketball on the playground.

The Honda Museum is located next to a green, dense twin-circuit track. The building has three floors, housing Honda's past production cars, modified cars, and race cars. As we walked, I translated the contents of the brochure for him.

"'Dreams related to creation.' Before establishing Honda, Soichiro Honda, who worked in the automotive repair business in Hamamatsu, said, 'I want to create something with my own hands.' So he tried to make piston rings, but no matter how many times he tried, he failed. Reflecting on his own lack of ability, Honda entered Hamamatsu Industrial High School (now the Faculty of Engineering at Shizuoka University) at the age of 30 to study the basics of materials... Until finally, step by step, he realized his dream. Pursue your dreams, do your best to persist and improve. To this day, this is the fundamental belief that Honda upholds on the path of creation.'"

He listened very attentively, stopping occasionally to look at the car models in front of him, a light shining in his eyes. He said that the reason he likes the Honda brand is because he's moved by its belief in pursuing dreams and its spirit of putting that into action.

The Honda Museum was larger than I imagined. The displays in the exhibition hall looked kind of the same to me, until I heard his detailed explanations next to me. I learned that each model has its unique history and story.

"Ah! This is it!" He suddenly said excitedly. "The Accord debuted in 1976. Over 45 years, it has amassed 22 million owners worldwide. You could say the Accord has become a symbol of the Honda spirit."

Watching the bright sparkle in his eyes, I racked my brain to keep up with the topic: "Oh~ I see. Then why did you choose the Vezel?"

So love me, love my dog is true.

He looked at me and smiled gently, "You've experienced it today too, right? The Vezel performs very well in all aspects. It's great for road trips. Look at the magic seats in the back; they're very flexible. Later, you can try the back seats—spacious, and you won't feel cramped even after sitting for a long time. And every color looks great in photos. Later you can check the SLR—it's perfect for travel photography. The Vezel is one of Honda's global strategic models. Since its launch in Japan in 2013, it has won over 4.5 million owners in 130 countries. Next time you go back home, you can drive my car and go on trips together."

Watching the bright sparkle in his eyes, I racked my brain to keep up with the topic: "Oh~ I see. Then why did you choose the Vezel?"

So love me, love my dog is true.

On the way back to Tokyo, he played a song we both loved in junior high.

"I've always thought you were brave, working hard to go to a place you like and live there. Everyone gets tired sometimes. Travel, take a break, and when you've rested enough, move forward again~ The people who understand you will always be waiting for you," he said.

Perhaps the tight, huge net of the big city made me forget my former aspirations. Or maybe the orderly life, in its too-realistic form, made me forget the courage I once had.

Whatever the reason, this road trip with him helped me find some clue.

A clue that, though I can't see it clearly now, I am certain of.

I think I now know how to live in this city from now on.

"Next time, I'll come to your city to travel," I messaged him.

"Sure, the Vezel is ready. Next road trip, what inspiration will the teacher have, and what kind of painting will she create? I'm looking forward to it."

If you too have lost your way at some point in life, go see the people who have always liked you.

Through their eyes, you will surely find the version of yourself that once held dreams and shone brightly.

And the journey of self-discovery, the stories full of surprises, is still to be continued.

Travel diary table of contents

1. Senso-ji Temple - The Us Who Are No Longer Young

2. Skytree - Approaching the Arakawa in Your Eyes

3. Tokyo Tower - A Love Not Worth Remembering

4. Odaiba – With Someone You Want to See, You Are No Longer Alone

5. Amehiki Kannon Temple – If Time Could Stand Still Here

6. Honda Museum – Shining in Each Other's Eyes

7. This Journey Continues

Travel Info