We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop by Takuya Asakura, out from HarperCollins on February 3.
Welcome to The Cherry Blossom Bookshop, a haven for book lovers that only appears during the fleeting cherry blossom season. Nestled amidst the bloom of delicate petals, you’ll find a sanctuary for those burdened by regrets and past sorrows. Here, Sakura, the mysterious young owner, and her wise calico cat, Kobako, patiently await the arrival of souls in need of solace and healing.
Told over four seasons, each visitor to the bookshop holds a book that bridges their past and present, guiding them towards understanding and acceptance. Within the antique charm of the shop and the soothing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, Sakura and Kobako help their guests confront their lingering sadness through the power of stories, enabling them to move forward with renewed hope.
INTERLUDE
THE NEXT CUSTOMER
The coffee brewed, its billows of steam swaying to the triplet-infused rhythm in three-four time.
As though guided by the beat of the music, the girl spun around floatily with The Little Prince clutched in her hands and turned away from the cat sitting on the table.
‘Hey, Kobako—’
Now standing in front of the bookcase, the girl began to speak as she slid the book back into its original spot. She handled it with the utmost care, apparently determined to keep its corners unscathed.
‘You know, every time I read this book, I always wonder—did I tame you, or did you tame me?’
The cat, sitting in a loaf pose, didn’t bother to respond, not even offering a yawn.
‘Not that it matters.’
Having replaced the book, the girl pointed her index finger towards the spines of the books, again taking care not to touch them. But just as she was about to run her finger across, the cat gave a cry. This time, it was a long, protesting meow.
‘What?’
Putting one hand on her hip, the girl twisted around. Then, stepping closer to the table, she leaned forward, bringing her face near the cat. In response, the cat raised its nose.
‘Huh? You want me to move the table first?’
The cat gave a short, approving meow as if to say: Exactly.
‘Are you saying that we need to make space in the middle of the shop? That’s going to take some effort, you know.’
Letting out a half-sigh, the girl set to work on the task that the cat had assigned her. As she shuffled the chairs aside and moved the tables, the cherry blossom branches decorating the shop swayed in their vases.
Soon, an empty space the size of a small stage emerged in front of the kitchen counter. Petals were scattered across the now spacious floor.
‘Must be nice to be you,’ the girl grumbled as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘All you ever do is give out instructions.’
By now, the cat had tucked its head back into its body, forming a perfectly shaped loaf. Its eyes were firmly closed.
‘I guess I’m the one who’s been tamed.’
The girl made this remark, which was neither a complaint nor self-mockery, before finally going back to her book-picking ritual.
Her finger hovered just in front of the bookshelf where The Little Prince sat. She moved her finger across, gliding from top to bottom, transitioning from one shelf to the next. From time to time, a book would catch her attention, and she would pause momentarily, casting a hopeful glance at her companion. But Kobako the calico cat wasn’t so easily satisfied.
The ritual eventually progressed to the large-format books held between bookends on the four-seater table. Just when the girl’s fingertip was about to move past a certain book, the cat gave a sharp meow. Though the book was large in dimension, it wasn’t particularly thick.
The girl turned around to find the cat sitting up, its gleaming eyes wide open. A satisfied grin rose to the girl’s lips.
‘Right. Is this is going to be our next read, then? I like this one, too.’
Pulling the book off the shelf, the girl held it out with both her hands, then drew it towards her face. The cover read Ten Nights of Dreams. It was also marked with the words ‘Large Print’. Switching the book to one hand, the girl let out her usual ahem before opening it in a reverent manner.
‘“The sun will rise, and the sun will set. It will rise again, and it will set again. As the red sun moves from east to west, then slips away from west to east—will you have the patience to wait for me?”’
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The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop
All around the shop, the cherry-blossom branches dangled from the vases, their delicate limbs swaying softly as they listened to the girl’s voice. Every so often, the petals left the branches, one by one, spiralling through the air as they slowly descended to the floor. Out of nowhere, a flickering shadow filled the seat at the rear of the room. It was almost as though the shadow was indecisive about fully appearing. Nevertheless, it did seem to be enjoying the girl’s reading, as it alternated between expanding its body and narrowing it again, keeping time with the rhythm of her voice.
The calico cat kept its eyes shut. Boléro played on.
The air was still, and the gentle spring sunshine was quite pleasant indeed. The sensation of being transported without physical effort filled him with a strange nostalgia. As they moved along the stone-paved path, the cherry-blossoms in full bloom soon came into view. The pink of the flowers was much deeper than that of the somei-yoshino trees. ‘Look,’ he heard, and nodded in reply.
‘I’ve been assigned to a line that goes through a station where there’s a cluster of Yamazakura cherry trees. You can see them right across from the station building. The view is a real feast for the eyes when they’re in full bloom.’
‘Is that so? I’d love it if you’d take me some time, when you’re not working.’
‘Well, that’s a pretty big request.’
‘Oh, why not? Who knows how many more times we’d be able to see the cherry blossoms together?’
Shingo was quite certain that he had exchanged those words with Yuriko. Just as he was having this recollection, his daughter placed something on his lap. It was the book from earlier. She must have brought it along with her.
‘If you ever feel like it, please try giving it a read. I went through the trouble of bringing it to you, after all.’
As before, Shingo nodded without saying anything. Just then, that male worker from the canteen kitchen came out to the courtyard. Taking his hat off, he bowed to Shingo’s daughter.
‘We’ll be right back, Dad. We’re just going to go and say hello.’
Shingo watched as his daughter and granddaughter headed towards the man.
Then, he glanced up at the cherry blossoms once more before dropping his eyes to his knees. He scanned the words printed on the cover of the book again: Ten Nights of Dreams. For some reason, a sense of deep affection started to well up inside of him. Turning the pages, he followed the text with his eyes. The print was large indeed. He would be able to read it with ease, and this realisation put him in a great mood.
‘Let’s see,’ he found himself saying. Although his intention was to simply skim over the book, he found himself reading out loud.
‘“This is the dream I dreamt. As I sat by her bed with my arms folded, a woman lying on her back said in a quiet voice that she was about to die.”’
This is a rather ominous way to start a story, isn’t it? And maybe this writing is supposed to be beautiful, but it’s a bit formal and hard to get into. This is why I’ve never understood the appeal of novels. Yuriko seemed to be fond of them, though.
‘“Her long hair spread over her pillow and all around the soft contours of her—” ‘Huh? What does that say?’
He couldn’t work out the next word. There were annotations beside the kanji characters indicating their pronunciation, but they were too small for his eyes. Pulling his head away from the page, he finally managed to make out the letters.
‘“M-Melon”? Ah, that’s right— “… the soft contours of her melonseed face.”’
Exactly what kind of face is that? Based on what he had read, he somehow put together the scene in his mind, picturing the oval-faced woman lying down on her back with her head resting on a pillow. But before he knew it, that face had turned into that of his wife. Am I remembering something from my own past? he began to wonder, or is this something that this writing has awakened in me? If I am reminiscing, does that mean I stayed by Yuriko’s side as she passed away?
Yuriko. Yuriko’s words—that was what I’ve been trying to remember. I had made her a promise. One that I must never forget. Is that right? Why can’t I recall something so important?
Just after I proposed to her, Yuriko said something to me.
What was the promise that we—
Meow.
All of a sudden, Shingo felt like he heard something. When he looked up, he was instantly mesmerised by the view before him.
Right where the vibrant pink of the Kawazu cherry blossoms had once been, a single weeping cherry tree now stood. And it was no ordinary tree. Its flowers were coloured in every imaginable shade of red and white.
Behind the tree was a two-storey building. At the top of its green roof, he saw a bronze weathercock crowing silently to the heavens. He was sure that there was no such thing on the premises of the care home. Yet something told him that he was not witnessing it for the first time. In fact, he felt like he’d seen it just recently. And he remembered thinking the same thing at that time: that there was no way that this building existed here. But he didn’t have the slightest idea when or where that was.
Shingo was now on his feet. His entire body had moved so effortlessly, he didn’t even notice himself standing up. The numbness in the left side of his lower body, which had persisted since the first time he had a stroke, had completely gone away. As though he was being pulled by an invisible force, he walked to the entrance of the building and gently opened the door. Classical music played faintly from within, and the pleasant aroma of coffee crept out through the gap.
Tentatively, he first poked his head in, then slipped the rest of his body inside. A young lady in a burgundy pinafore dress stood directly opposite him. She held an open book to her face with one hand. Stretching her other arm out theatrically, she spoke in a dignified voice. It was as though she was an actor practising her lines.
‘“When I die, please bury me. Dig me a grave with a large pearl oyster shell. Take a fragment of a star that had fallen from the heavens and mark my grave with it. Then, wait for me beside my grave. I will come and see you again.”’
With that, the girl lifted her gaze. Gracefully closing the book with one hand, she beamed at Shingo.
‘Welcome, Mr Shingo Kikukawa. Please take a seat here.’
She gestured to a table that had a ‘Reserved’ sign on it. Examining his surroundings, Shingo noticed that there were cherry blossom branches arranged in vases all around the shop. Their flowers brightened up the atmosphere with their impressive variation of colours. But what really caught his attention were the shelves packed full with books. They easily outnumbered the vases. On the tables by the walls and along the counter, rows of books stood neatly between bookends. Shingo couldn’t figure out if this place was primarily a bookshop or a coffee shop.
Just then, Shingo realised that the large-print edition of Ten Nights of Dreams was still in his hand. His copy seemed to be identical to the girl’s. As his eyes darted back and forth between the two books in an attempt to confirm this, she watched him contentedly.
‘As you might have guessed, that book has opened up the passage. It’s not every day that we have such fortunate encounters, so, please, do take a seat.’
Adapted excerpt from The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop by Takuya Asakura, Translated from Japanese by Yuka Maeno, copyright 2025. Reprinted with permission by HarperCollins.
