Takaki and Akari share their first kiss beneath a cherry tree
5 Centimeters per SecondTakaki and Akari share their first kiss beneath a lone cherry tree during their reunion in Iwafune, a moment that makes their closeness feel both complete and impossible to keep. Snow takes the place of blossoms above them: the scene offers a brief sense of shared wholeness, then turns that intimacy toward the knowledge that their lives will continue apart.
The Tree and the Snowbound Setting
Akari leads Takaki to the tree she had written about in an earlier letter. A walk of roughly ten minutes from the station brings them out to broad farmland, with no houses or artificial lights nearby. Snowlight is enough to make the landscape faintly visible, and the tree stands alone beside a path between rice paddies, thick-trunked and tall. In the darkness, snow falls silently through its interlaced branches.
The setting joins a particular place to a private history already carried between the two children. The tree is not an accidental backdrop: Akari’s letter had named it before Takaki saw it, so arriving there turns words exchanged at a distance into a shared physical encounter. Its winter branches also transform the familiar image of a cherry tree in bloom. Akari remarks, “Look, it’s almost like snow,” and Takaki feels that he has seen her before beneath a flowering cherry tree, watching him with a smile.
The First Kiss
Under the tree, Takaki and Akari kiss for the first time. The narration presents the kiss as happening naturally, without a declaration or a planned gesture. For Takaki, the instant seems to disclose where eternity, hearts, and souls might reside. He thinks that the two of them have managed to share everything of the thirteen years they have lived, as though their closeness had gathered their young lives into a single moment.
That sense of unity immediately meets a harder recognition. Takaki does not know where to take Akari’s warmth or soul, or what he should do with the preciousness of her presence; he knows, too, that they cannot stay together forever, with vast stretches of time and life ahead of them. Unease grips him, but gradually recedes until the kiss itself remains. In retrospect, he remembers its softness and warmth as unlike anything he had known, and describes it as the most delightful, pure, and intense kiss of his life.
What Follows the Encounter
Afterward, the two spend the night in a small shed beside a field. Farm tools fill the wooden shed; they take an old blanket from a shelf, remove their wet coats and shoes, and wrap themselves in it. Akari wears her sailor suit beneath her coat, while Takaki is still in his school uniform. They whisper together for a long time, their shoulders sometimes touching and Akari’s hair brushing his cheek or neck. Their closeness is conveyed through small bodily details: the warmth he can barely bear, the stir of breath against hair, and the occasional moonlight entering through the thin glass window as clouds clear. They fall asleep while still talking.
The night extends the kiss’s intimacy without resolving the uncertainty Takaki has felt. The children are no longer lonely while they are together, and that shared comfort fills him with joy; yet the scene offers no promise that the closeness will last. Its warmth and its limit occupy the same night.
Memory, Distance, and Belonging
The kiss belongs to a childhood shaped by moves between places. Before third grade, Takaki had moved with his parents from Nagano to Tokyo. The unfamiliar buildings seen from the train had filled him with anxiety, but at thirteen he reflects that he has survived the change and credits Akari with having saved him. He hopes he has done the same for her. Against that earlier fear of being uprooted, their meeting beneath the tree gives their bond a specific place and a shared memory.
The later histories of Tokyo and Iwafune sharpen, rather than settle, the encounter’s tension between attachment and separation. As an adult, Takaki returns to Tokyo for university and stands among unpacked boxes, telling himself that he is there by choice and that everywhere is much the same. Akari, meanwhile, remembers arriving at Iwafune Station as a homesick child who thought she should not be living there; years later, the town has become her hometown, and leaving it is difficult. The first kiss cannot secure a permanent home for either of them, but it remains a moment when their separate experiences of movement briefly converge in one place.


