Mr. Fujiyama, an elderly man with long, puffed grey hair and reading glasses, dresses in tan pants and a vest. His deafness leads to a booming voice that often lends unintended intensity to his interactions. Plagued by forgetfulness, he obsessively seeks "YAMAZAKURA," a vinyl record crafted by his late wife Sakura, a singer who died young during childbirth. The title merges mountain cherry blossoms with her distinctive buck teeth—a feature shared with another character—weaving metaphor into memory.

He visits a senior activity center in a mall, where two teenagers join his search to reconnect him with Sakura’s fading voice and their shared past. The quest appears hopeless until they discover the record repurposed into a clock at the center, overlooked due to his own lapses. Their collaboration forges intergenerational bonds, his longing mirroring the teens’ journeys toward self-acceptance. At a festival, his urging sparks a pivotal romantic confession, intertwining past and present.

Gentle yet haunted, his loudness and determination initially veil profound grief. Resolution comes when the record plays, letting him honor Sakura’s legacy. His history as a record shop owner devoted to her music, and his earlier work at the mall’s defunct record-pressing factory, anchors his bond to the artifact and its origins.