Arriving in my new university city felt like stepping onto a different planet. The air smelled different, the streets looked unfamiliar, and the constant, low hum of my hometown's familiarity was replaced by a vast, echoing silence. My small dorm room felt impersonal and empty, a stark contrast to the cozy, memory-filled space I had just left behind.
Unpacking was a solitary task. As I put away my clothes, my books, the small vintage compass Sakura and I shared, the reality of being truly alone in this new place hit me. No Kenji to make a joke, no Aiko for quiet company, and most significantly, no Sakura just a short walk or train ride away.
I set up my desk, arranged my books, and placed the compass on the shelf where I would see it every day. It was a physical reminder of my promise, a small anchor in this sea of unfamiliarity.
My phone felt both like my only lifeline and a heavy weight in my pocket. I checked it constantly, looking for a message from Sakura. I knew she was likely just as busy, just as overwhelmed, but the silence felt louder than usual.
Her first message arrived later that evening.
Sakura: Hey, made it safely! 😊 Dorm is... small! But the campus is incredible! Exhausted! How was your trip? Made it okay? Me: Hey! Yeah, safe here too. Dorm is... also small! 😂 Unpacked most things. How was your first day? Sounds amazing! Sakura: It was! So much to see! So many people! My roommate seems nice! She's from Kyoto! Me: That's cool! Good that you have a nice roommate! Mine seems okay too. Quiet. Sakura: 😊 Good! At least someone quiet for you! 😉 Todai is... intense already! Orientation sessions were packed! And everyone is so smart! Feeling a bit... out of my depth already! 😅
Her admission of feeling "out of her depth" was a quiet echo of our earlier conversations about the pressure at Todai. Even the school idol felt intimidated in her new environment.
Me: Hey, you're amazing, Sakura. You belong there just as much as anyone else. Don't let anyone make you doubt that. Sakura: Thank you, Hiroshi-kun. ❤️ Needed to hear that. You always know what to say. Sakura: How about you? First impressions of your university city? Find your department building okay? 😂
We continued texting for a while, sharing first impressions, small details about our new lives. It wasn't the same as talking face-to-face, or even video calling, but it was connection. A thread woven across the miles.
Walking around the university campus the next day, attending orientation events, meeting other new students – it was a whirlwind of new faces and information. Everyone was trying to find their place, make new connections.
I met some people, exchanged numbers, made plans to grab coffee. They seemed friendly, interesting. But even as I interacted with them, a part of my mind was elsewhere, wondering what Sakura was doing, how she was navigating her own new world, miles away.
The silence between messages felt different now. It wasn't just the usual pauses in conversation; it was the silence of distance, the quiet knowledge that her life was happening somewhere else, filled with experiences I wasn't immediately a part of.
The new city was full of potential, full of new experiences waiting to happen. But it also held a new kind of silence, a quiet reminder of the distance separating me from the person who had become the most important part of my world. The long-distance relationship had begun, and the first challenge wasn't overcoming conflict, but simply getting used to the silence across the miles and finding ways to fill it with conscious connection.