Chapter Text
Nagori
The first time Jimin heard this word, he was in Japan to settle a deal with one of the import companies his CEO has good connection with.
The deal was practically sorted out, and Jimin was just supposed to be hosted. The Japanese CEO wanted him to understand more about Japan, to realise why their products were the best. In short, he wanted to make a show of his company, the dream he built it over and all the hard work that had laid behind it.
For Jimin, it was a pleasant occasion. He had always loved Japan, and he still remembers how his grandmother used to take him there whenever she could. She and her love for Japan, a love that Jimin found out came from a very brief encounter with a man she never stopped loving. The little piece of information, and the glint in the eyes his grandmother had while telling him their story, made Jimin grow even fonder of the place.
When he was in college, he had flown to Japan four or five times, taking the chance to feel the same as he used to when he was younger. He was still able to move around like he lived there, remembering every place he visited with his grandmother and the right train to pick or where to eat the best sushi.
So, this deal was for Jimin an occasion to make a familiar journey, seeing familiar places, blending in with his perfect japanese. Yet, he had never heard this word before.
The CEO’s sparkling eyes, as he explained to Jimin how the whole idea took root on the will to preserve one single feeling, got him wondering who this man lost. It must have been someone he had really loved if he built a whole dream around them. This brief thought and the meaning of the word, left a deep impression on him. So deep that, the night he learned it, the only thing he was able to do was walk around the city aimlessly, feeling lost for the very first time.
Japan has a deep understanding of nagori , a particular feeling that you can only experience with endings or damages. It's the feeling of longing you can have for a season that just ended, or that atmosphere that you feel in the air when you know that something you just experienced won't come back. It can also be used to address the damages or the aftermath of an event, or what is left, what survives when someone is gone. It can be used for separation or footprints.
It's one of those words with a broad meaning. The kind of meaning that you trace back in humankind history just by acknowledging how many connections it has with human feelings.
Jimin remembers how a shiver had run through his spine, making the back of his head tingle while the CEO was explaining his whole motto. He wanted to preserve moments, fruits, and vegetables that are usually gone too fast. He wanted people to be able to enjoy them as naturally as possible but without the wait.
The meaning of the word stuck with Jimin for a long time. It was prettily printed in bold silver letters on the file they gave him at the company. It was sewed in the lanyard with his ID. It was on the gadgets they got him; the pen, the notebook. Even the phone case.
The word followed him for a long time, steeping him with a deep feeling of longing he didn't know from what it was caused. It made him feel almost heavy, like when you are deep in water up to half of your legs, but you are still trying to run. Yet, he couldn't deny the strong appeal the poetry of the word had to him. He thought it was something he would have to experience once older, looking back at his life and feeling that kind of warm nostalgic feeling of something that was good. He thought he had time before confronting such a feeling; something so deeply wounding in some way that it follows you just by hearing its name. Honestly, he thought he would have never felt it. He hoped so. What Jimin never thought, though, was that he would relate to the word so soon (too soon) into his life.