Maybe that Buddha statue is a substitute for an altar.
All this time, Masamichi had been looking at the statue, thinking it was coarsely made, and presuming some amateur must have made it. But now that he’d heard that it was an expensive item that a famous Buddhist sculptor had carved, he suddenly appreciated it.
Unconcerned about Masamichi’s feelings, Shino said bluntly, “These croissants aren’t bad. Hurry up and eat them.”
“Oh, right!”
Masamichi quickly picked up a croissant and took a tiny bite out of its narrow edge.
It made a light, airy sound as he ate that was neither a crunch nor a crush. Like Shino, he was dropping flakes on his plate, and pieces of the bread scattered like a thin veil.
The outside of the croissant was crispy, crunchy, and fragrant, and it was light and fluffy on the inside—like he was eating a cloud. And the rich, buttery aroma was heavenly.
“Wow, this is fantastic! You have an eye for good stuff, Shino!”
“Naturally. Don’t underestimate your master, servant.”
Shino finished his croissant in the blink of an eye, took another out of the bag, and bit into it.
He was a wild eater, which didn’t match his beautiful features. But no matter how boldly he dug in, none of his elegance was lost, perhaps thanks to the training that Tokifuyu Tatsumi, the man who had been his master, instilled. Or maybe due to the previous Bougyoudou owners and their guidance.
As for Masamichi, he carefully took bites of his croissant a little at a time, as if it were the most precious thing in the world, looking like a squirrel or a hamster. He cocked his head and said, “Croissants are French, aren’t they? I wonder if French people eat croissants in the morning. Or do they eat French bread…baguettes?”
“I don’t know. This is Japan.”
Although he was well-versed in a wide range of fields, Shino was completely indifferent to matters outside his interests, which made Masamichi chuckle.
“…Shino, you sometimes sound like a stubborn old man. Oh, but you’re more than just an old man when we consider your age.”
“Did you say something?”
“Oh, no, nothing!”
“Besides, I doubt that the French would be happy to have their eating habits lumped together as a country. It’s the same as with the Japanese. What to eat for breakfast, and for that matter, the question as to whether an individual eats breakfast at all—such dietary habits will vary.”
“Yeah, you’ve got a point there. It usually does sound suspicious when someone generalizes about how people do things in a certain country.”
“At best, it’s often just a story about a particular area of a country where the individual has been. Humans do things so differently from each other that it’s staggering. That’s what makes them foolish yet interesting.”
With that said, Shino gobbled up a second croissant and drank his black coffee.
“Today, I’m going to sort through some of the vessels we received the other day.”
“Oh, yeah,” Masamichi said and nodded.
After Masamichi had repeatedly asked Shino to tell him of his plans, since it would be a hassle for him as a servant not to know where his master was and what he was doing, the specter finally began informing Masamichi of his general plans for the day.
“The three cardboard boxes we took in when that person said they were clearing things out to prepare for the end of their life. Can you handle it alone?” Masamichi asked.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Shino asked, glaring at him, annoyed.
“Pardon me. I have to get to my prep school for class, and I will be back in the evening. Do you want me to pick up anything on my way home?”
“Let me think.” Shino thought about it for about ten seconds. “The deep-fried tofu you bought, which I didn’t even ask you to get, was pretty good. Get more of that. It’s convenient that we only need to grill it and pour soy sauce and ginger over it.”
“Right! That deep-fried tofu was fantastic. I’ll get some if they have any left.”
Masamichi washed down the last bite of his croissant with black coffee.
Actually, he preferred his coffee with a little sugar and plenty of milk, but he was inclined to cut back a little, considering his lack of exercise and the calories in the croissant.
After gathering up the crumbs scattered in front of Shino and carrying his plate and mug to the kitchen, he tidied up, went back to his room, and then came back to the tea room with his shoulder bag.
“I’m off, then.”
“All right.”
Shino had the newspaper spread in front of him again, hiding his face.
“Thanks for the croissants. Bye!”
Still no reply from Shino, but that was the norm.
Not feeling particularly anxious, Masamichi smiled as he walked out of the store, passing by the vessels that had become familiar by then.
Shino was right. It was a pleasant morning.
Perhaps the temperature would rise rapidly during the day, but at the moment, thin clouds floated against the clear sky—typical of autumn—as if swept by a brush.
“Okay, then. I made up my mind to keep studying, so that’s what I’m going to do,” Masamichi muttered to himself, grateful to Shino for covering his tuition. He then slapped his cheeks with his hands to fire himself up and picked up his pace.
It was an ordinary day, no different from any other.
Only a few hours later, Masamichi would realize that a day like that would never be the norm for the servant of a specter…