Even after all these years, I can still remember the scent of spring and the excitement in my chest. That single day in my youth continues to live quietly inside me.
A Spring Day in My Second Year of High School
It was April 26, many years ago.
I was a second-year high school student.
The cherry blossoms had fallen, and I was slowly adjusting to a new class.
I still remember the scent of my slightly sweaty uniform after club activities, and the breeze through the window that hinted at early summer.
I was an ordinary teenage girl—not particularly outgoing or special, but I enjoyed each day in my own quiet way.
One day after club practice, I stopped by a bookstore—and that’s where I saw him.
A poster.
A slightly downcast gaze, holding a guitar.
That profile captured my heart instantly.
Back then, there was no such word as “oshi-katsu.” But at that moment, I knew I had found someone I wanted to support.
I had found my “oshi.”
My First Concert Experience
Not long after, I found out that this artist would be holding a concert in my hometown.
I saved up my allowance, summoned my courage, and bought a ticket.
The concert date was April 26.
The atmosphere, the thrill in my chest, and the moment he appeared on stage— it all felt like a dream.
I was completely enveloped in sound.
When the music began, I remember almost crying.
It was a simple but overwhelming realization: “He’s real.”
Even after returning home that night, the sound remained in my ears, and I couldn’t sleep.
The path to school the next morning sparkled as if I was walking through a different world.
I think that day added a new drawer to my emotional memory— one that still opens gently from time to time.
Where I Am Now
Many years have passed since that day.
I don’t know what became of him.
He doesn’t appear on TV or in magazines anymore.
Perhaps he’s stepped away from the world of music.
As for me, I now live with my laid-back husband, a son who’s already working, and a daughter in university.
Life is busy, and I don’t often think back on that time.
But every year, as April 26 approaches, something quietly stirs within me— as if my body remembers before my mind does.
A Memory That Time Can’t Erase
Memories are strange like that.
Even after decades, the feelings, the sounds, and the air from that moment can come rushing back in an instant.
When I recall that day, I return to my younger self.
The skirt I wore to feel a little prettier, my trembling hands, the loud music, and the overwhelming feeling of “I love this” bursting from within me.
I’ve grown up now.
It’s harder to dive headfirst into something I love.
But the feeling from that night still lives inside me.
Maybe growing up means slowly forgetting those pure emotions.
But when I recall them, they feel like a warm light that still supports the person I’ve become.
And Then, Spring Comes Again
Every time April 26 comes around, I soften just a little.
Not only because of the season, but because the quiet treasure I tucked away begins to glow again.
To the girl I was back then—thank you.
And to the artist who gave me that night—thank you too.
Though I no longer say his name aloud, and though I may never see him again, the sound of that night still remains within me.
