The moment he opened the door, Masamichi smelled the fragrant aroma of onions frying in butter.
“Hi, Shino. I’m home,” he said again as he went up to the tea room.
Standing with his back to him, Shino didn’t turn around or welcome him.
Masamichi wasn’t bothered by that, because the specter never did, and he approached the specter with a smile on his face.
Shino always said that specters didn’t have a habit of greeting others.
Masamichi, however, had been taught by his parents and grandparents since childhood that “no greeting or thank-you would ever go amiss,” so he didn’t feel comfortable if he didn’t greet people properly.
Fortunately for him, Shino didn’t tell him to stop doing it, so he greeted him, albeit one-sidedly, on a daily basis.
“I bought mushrooms. I’ve gotten shiitake, shimeji, and enoki mushrooms before, but it was my first time buying these common white mushrooms. Oh, and carrots. Was that all you needed?” Masamichi said while pulling the items out of his reusable shopping bag and placing them on the counter.
Shino indicated his approval with the faintest movement of his eyes.
Then he gestured with his chin, which meant that Masamichi was to hurry up and take his things to his room.
Someone who didn’t know Shino might wonder why he was so grumpy, and perhaps they’d worry that he and Masamichi were fighting, but Masamichi was used to this behavior.
Whether it was the nature of a specter or if it was just the way Shino was, his words and actions were very economical.
He saw no need to be nice, act good-tempered, or waste another person’s time with redundant small talk.
Wherever he was and whomever he was with, Shino was true to himself at all times.
That was why Masamichi had been genuinely surprised when he first saw Shino speaking politely and using honorifics with customers.
It was only natural for a business operator, but Shino was so brutally honest that Masamichi hadn’t expected it from him.
Shino’s current attitude might be extremely brusque to the casual observer, but to him, he was being neutral and not acting particularly grumpy.
“I’ll be right back,” Masamichi said. Knowing Shino wouldn’t respond, he ran up the steep stairs that led from the tea room to the second floor.
Masamichi had been allocated the room that Yoriko—the wife of the store’s previous owner, Daizou—had used.
He liked the room very much. With her beloved furniture still there, it had a mysterious warmth to it, and it often reminded him of his own grandmother. They’d replaced the bed because the mattress springs sagged and might hurt his back, but he continued to use everything else as is.
After taking off his clothes and carefully spreading them on the bed, Masamichi changed into sweats, washed his hands in the bathroom, and returned to the kitchen.
Still focused on his frying pan, Shino said, “Wipe those mushrooms you bought.”
Masamichi pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, planning to help make dinner, but then he stopped and looked mildly surprised.
“Wipe them? Not wash them?”
“Yoriko said washing mushrooms ruins the flavor. She told me to wipe them with a wet paper towel.”
“Oh, is that a skill she taught you? Okay, got it!”
Chuckling, Masamichi wet a paper towel as instructed, wrung it, and began carefully wiping off each mushroom.
The mushrooms that he’d bought at the store he now regularly shopped at were white, with faint speckles of dirt and straw, so cleaning them wasn’t difficult.
“So Yoriko cleaned mushrooms carefully like this, huh? Or was it your job to help her like I’m doing?”
Shino shrugged without answering. It meant “Yeah.”
By the time Masamichi had moved to Bougyoudou, Daizou and Yoriko were no longer alive. There was only one photograph of them in the tea room for him to reference, but from what Shino sometimes said, he could tell they were good people.
Shino had learned many of Yoriko’s home recipes by helping her in her later years when she couldn’t move well enough to perform household chores to her satisfaction. Now Shino prepared those dishes for Masamichi.
Masamichi used those daily meals as a way to think about the lives of Daizou, Yoriko, and Shino in the past.
“Yoriko must have thought of you as a son. I bet she was happy to cook with you,” Masamichi said.
Shino cut the cleaned mushrooms into four pieces, tossed them into a pan, and replied, “She didn’t have anyone else to do the chores. That’s all.”
“I don’t think so. It’s fun to be in the kitchen together. At least, it is for me. I’m sure Yoriko enjoyed it, too.”
“I don’t care how humans feel. All I did was pay her back for what she did for me.”
Shino continued to work briskly, and Masamichi chuckled inwardly.
But Shino remembers everything Yoriko taught him, from the recipe to the methods. I can tell he worked hard trying to help her.
If Masamichi pointed that out, Shino’s mood would immediately sour. After nine months of living together, Masamichi had a pretty good idea of what triggered his mood switches, and he changed the subject without pushing further.
“By the way, what are you making today?”
“Chicken sandwiches, as Yoriko would have said.”
Masamichi widened his eyes.
“Chicken sandwiches? Sandwiches? For dinner?”
“Do you disapprove?”
A hint of grumpiness laced Shino’s voice. Panicked, Masamichi waved his hands, still holding a paper towel.
“Oh, no, not at all! But I was just a bit surprised since we’ve never had sandwiches for dinner before. Is that what you’re in the mood for?”
“I wanted to use the leftover bread we have. That’s all. That’s enough—stop cleaning the mushrooms. Wrap the leftovers in a paper towel and put them in the fridge.”
“Okay. Gee, I had no idea you could preserve mushrooms like that. Specters know a lot of things.”
“Not specters. I know a lot of things.”
“Right. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Secretly amused by his master’s self-assertion, which struck him as cute, Masamichi did as he was told. After putting the mushrooms away in the refrigerator, he looked at the specter.
Shino combined the onions and mushrooms in the pan with shredded chicken pieces he had apparently sautéed earlier, then sprinkled everything with salt, pepper, and flour.
“Milk and cheese.”
“Yes, sir!”
After receiving those brief instructions, Masamichi pulled out a carton of milk and a cylindrical container of cheese powder from the refrigerator and returned to stand next to Shino.