Interlude:
What’s Your Favorite Food?
1
PART TWO: AKEMI, SEX WORKER OF THE DOVE DISTRICT
I’ve never once liked how it tastes.
THE CHARCOAL SOOTHINGLY crackled as the mochi on the earthenware grill began to expand.
“Okay, it’ll be just a little longer.” Motoharu attentively adjusted the mochi’s positions every now and then to make sure they didn’t burn. Using a hand fan, he sent a steady flow of air onto the grill, a serious look on his face.
“Oooh!” Jinta couldn’t help but exclaim. After all, isobe mochi was his favorite. He and Suzune were originally from a fairly well-off merchant home, so their father would make him isobe mochi from time to time. He wouldn’t make any for Suzune, though, so Jinta would always hide a few pieces to eat with her later.
They couldn’t eat isobe mochi as much after they ran away from home. Kadono was one of Japan’s few iron-manufacturing villages, but it wasn’t a wealthy place by any means. They wouldn’t go hungry, but not even the family of a shrine maiden guardian could afford much luxury. Still, that only made the rare occasions they could eat isobe mochi all the more enjoyable. Jinta would come right up to the grill and eagerly watch as Motoharu prepared the mochi.
“Jeez, Jinta.”
“Wh-what? I’m just watching.”
“Hee hee. Calm down a little first.”
His face turned red out of embarrassment as Shirayuki chided him.
Amused by the children’s exchange, Motoharu laughed. “She’s got you on a tight leash, huh?”
From Motoharu’s perspective, Shirayuki was the one who called the shots between the two, and Jinta had to admit that was the case. Nine times out of ten, she was the one to start some trouble, and he was only haplessly dragged along.
Jinta was starting to sulk a bit when he suddenly felt something tug on his arm. Surprised, he looked next to him and saw Suzune had joined him in waiting for the mochi.
“Jinta, look! It’s getting bigger!”
“It is, it is.” He roughly tousled his sweet sister’s hair, which made her smile. He smiled as well because she looked so happy. Shirayuki and Motoharu watched the siblings warmly.
“Do you want some mochi too, Suzu-chan?” Shirayuki asked.
“Yeah! Jinta and I used to eat mochi together a long time ago.” Suzune grabbed Shirayuki’s hand. She wanted to eat together with everyone. Though she didn’t say so directly, her actions made it clear.
“It’s done!”
A fragrance that whetted the appetite wafted through the air, and the three children cried out cheerfully. It seemed Shirayuki had been looking forward to eating too. They enjoyed a wonderful meal together.
This was a distant memory from days when he could still smile without a care in the world. He would probably remember the taste of the isobe mochi he ate then for the entirety of his life. That was why, if someone asked what his favorite food was, he would grin slightly and answer that it was isobe mochi.
✦ ✦ ✦
A peculiar smell filled Sakuraba Milk Hall. Akemi, one of the waitresses there, yawned. She hadn’t found a client yet that day. A few men were present and ogled the girls in the electric light-lit milk hall, but business was slow. She felt that was an ongoing trend; day by day there were fewer clients around…and fewer girls too.
“Hotaru-chan, a moment, please?”
“Coming.”
It was nothing surprising by this point, but Akemi raised an eyebrow out of irritation anyway. Making no effort to hide her displeasure, she leaned against the wall and stared coldly at Hotaru.
“Hotaru-san got picked again? Ugh. What do they see in a hag like her?” A nearby waitress of the same age as Akemi grumbled. Hotaru was twenty-four, making her the oldest woman here. She was already a hag to the other girls, who weren’t even twenty, and yet she was still somehow the most popular among the clients. The waitress’s complaints came from a place of jealousy.
Though not as many as Hotaru, Akemi got quite a few clients herself. She wasn’t jealous of her like the other waitresses around her were, but she wouldn’t step in and defend her either. She had different reasons to dislike Hotaru.
“I’m going to step out for a breath of fresh air.”
“What’s wrong, Akemi?”
“Just not feeling too great today.”
One could only blame themselves for their inability to get a client. Akemi disliked the other waitresses, who hid their ineptness behind jealousy, even more than she disliked Hotaru. Not wanting to be lumped together with them, she stepped outside the store. In a way, she was lucky not to be chosen. Sleeping with a man when her heart wasn’t in it was boring. She was done looking for a client that night.
Akemi came from a completely average middle-class family. They couldn’t afford every luxury under the sun, but there was always food on the table. She lacked little in life. Still, she became a sex worker anyway. It simply suited her nature.
She believed having to slave away for money was pathetic, but it was obviously better to have money than not. She was pretty enough for men to come to her on their own, and young too. So why shouldn’t she use her youth while she still could? She had no special skills or education, but she didn’t need any of that to sell herself. That was why she drifted to the Dove District.
In other words, she was not a true sex worker but what was called an après girl—one of many reckless young girls who came to this place not because of hardship but because it was in vogue to do so. That being the case, whether or not she worked at all sometimes depended on her mood that day, and she did not see eye to eye with the old-fashioned ladies of the night like Hotaru.
The idea of selling dreams was stupid to her. Men only cared about sleeping with a young, pretty thing and nothing else. Only withering hags needed to pretend they were in love. That was why Akemi hated it.
The whole idea of putting on a fake smile and pretending to be someone you weren’t reminded Akemi of a woman she loathed. She probably hated Hotaru so much because she reminded her of that woman. Hotaru wasn’t at any real fault. Akemi was just venting frustration. Hotaru only happened to remind her of her awful mother.
“Ugh. Why’d I have to remember her now?” The stroll did nothing to clear her gloom. If anything, the image of her mother’s face only grew clearer in her mind. She tended to think about her mother more often lately. Her hate for her was genuine, but for some reason, the expression her mother had made just wouldn’t leave her mind.
A heart-shaped neon sign dimly lit the street. The pink light, a poor fit with the night, made her feel so uneasy as she looked at it now.
She began to feel irritated by her own thoughts. Ever since she came to this place, she had been prone to these strange bouts of sentimentalism. Was she simply tired? She couldn’t sort through her thoughts, and her gloom remained.
She stepped off the street, went into a dim alley, and leaned against the wall of an old photo studio to take a breather. It was good to stop when one was tired, so she decided a short break was in order.
“What’re you doing here?” a voice suddenly said.
Akemi looked up and clicked her tongue. People used to believe there were days of good luck and bad. It looked like today was a bad one.
Standing in front of her was a tall man with an annoyingly sharp gaze and a stern look. It was the cocky young man who had had the nerve to rebuff her advances before.