2
THERE WAS A UNIQUE SMELL to abandoned buildings, one that’s different from the smell of dust. Stillness permeated their empty halls, and the air always had a slight chill to it. Sakuraba Milk Hall was no different now. Or perhaps it had always been like this—devoid of life. Still, the warmth of the liquor Jinya had drunk remained with him.
He opened the door and heard its rusty hinges creak. Heavy clouds blotted the sky, looking ready to pour rain down at any moment.
“Heading back already?” Hotaru was right outside, waiting for him.
Their initial encounter had been a coincidence. He happened to see a man entranced by a dead woman and stepped in to help. That was all it was supposed to be. But he’d since slept with her, learned more about her inner thoughts, and formed a strange bond that was neither one of love nor of friendship. He didn’t know how he would describe his feelings for her, but he undoubtedly liked her, and she seemed to like him too. They both maintained a distance from one another, letting what they had remain ambiguous.
“Is that…?” Her gaze was on his sword bag. On that night they shared on the balcony, he had told her about his sword and how he had received it from his village chief. She understood he was leaving soon. “I see. You’re going, then?”
“Yeah. Thanks for all the care you’ve shown me. I came by to say my goodbyes.”
She showed no sadness and gracefully smiled. “I should be the one thanking you for all you’ve done. My first love wound up ending on a good note thanks to you.”
Her gratitude was sincere and direct. Her mask as a sex worker was nowhere to be seen. She spoke as an ordinary woman, her smile as pristine as a starry winter sky.
“Are you leaving right away?” she asked.
“No, I have one more thing to take care of first. I’m planning on leaving tomorrow morning.”
She looked down and thought for a few moments. When she lifted her face, she looked straight into his eyes and pulled something out of her pocket. “Take this.”
She handed him a small glass bottle—her star sand. The one thing she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind, a fragment of an old love. Jinya knew just how much it meant to her.
She said, “I’m not giving you this to keep, of course. Make sure you return it to me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. I can’t leave this place, but I’d at least like to see you off.”
She felt indebted to him, as well as to the Dove District that had granted her one more impossible encounter. She desired to see Jinya off as he left this place, then fade away together with the Dove District as her lingering regrets disappeared.
“You take your job seriously, huh?”
“What can I say? I’m a professional.”
As a lady of the night, it was her job to grant dreams, then disappear when morning arrived.
“You’re a true lady of the night.”
“Indeed. In the end, I couldn’t let myself just be an ordinary woman.”
He thought her way of being was a beautiful thing, not because her existence was so transient but because she had the heart to bloom as long as she could, even knowing her petals would soon scatter.
He grinned wryly and held out his sword to her.
“Um…?”
“In exchange for the star sand.”
The sword was Yarai, a sacred relic that would not rust away even if a thousand years went by. It was worshipped as a symbol of the Goddess of Fire itself in the iron-producing village of Kadono.
“I mentioned it before, but this sword was bequeathed to me by my village chief. It’s been my partner through many difficult times, and I think of it as part of me. It’s my only possession that can match your sincerity.”
“I couldn’t possibly take such a precious thing,” she said.
“It’s fine. It’ll just be until tomorrow, right?”
To create a promise to meet one last time, she’d given him her star sand—a piece of her very heart. It was only fair if he did something equal in return.
Gingerly, she took the sword and brought it close to her heart like a mother would do with her baby. “All right. I’ll hold onto it until tomorrow for you.”
“Thanks. Don’t lose it, all right?” he joked. She answered him with a serious nod.
The two of them didn’t even know each other’s names, but they were able to entrust their most precious possessions without a second thought. The strangeness of their bond put them in a good humor.
“Would you like to make a pinky promise for good measure?” she asked.
“How tasteful.”
She giggled. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of cutting off any pinkies.”
While it was now a children’s way of swearing, pinky promises began as a practice done by courtesans in the pleasure districts of old. A vow sealed with a kiss carried little weight when it came from a woman who slept with men for money. That was why courtesans would show the sincerity of their vows of everlasting love by cutting off a pinky and giving it to the man they loved.
Hotaru brought up pinky promises knowing their history full well. She wouldn’t actually cut off her pinky, but she wanted to show she was just as determined to keep this promise of theirs. Understanding that, Jinya nodded and wrapped his pinky around her own.
In a singsong voice, she said, “Piiinky promise, whoever lies must swallow a thousand needles, pinky promised.”
It was a childish ritual, but he thought it suited them just fine. He felt a bit bashful as their pinkies separated. Hotaru’s gaze met his, and she broke into a ticklish smile which made him smile in turn.
Their bond would be no more than a brief spring dream, but he would try not to feel sad when it ended and instead be happy it happened at all. For some time, the two looked up at the sky together.
After he parted with Hotaru, it began to rain. He took shelter under the eaves of a brothel for a while, but the rain didn’t let up at all, so he chose to brave the elements and run back. He was quite drenched by the time he returned to the apartment.
Aoba saw how soaked he was and grew flustered. She was back to being an ordinary, innocent girl—different from the way she had been that same morning.
“Yikes, you’re sopping wet! Come on in already; I’ll get some towels.” She pulled him into the apartment by hand.
He took off his shirt and sat down to rest. Aoba returned with towels, came up behind Jinya, and began drying his hair.
“I can do it myself,” he complained.
“Nah, I got it.” She didn’t even pause, never having intended to listen to his complaints. She wasn’t rough with the towel, though, carefully rubbing the moisture off his hair. After she finished drying his head, she used a new towel to dry his back. Being pampered like this was surprisingly comfortable. It was a bit of a new experience for him, since he was usually the one doing the caretaking.
He was mid-thought when she suddenly spoke up. “Hey, Jin-san? You don’t have to turn around, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
He could feel her hands tremble as she dried his back. He didn’t know whether it was out of nervousness or fear, and he wondered just what kind of face she was making—perhaps she was fighting back tears?
“Sure. Go ahead.” He did not know her past, which meant he couldn’t be certain in his deductions. But he did notice the feelings she directed toward him occasionally. He had chosen to stay with her anyway.
“Thanks…” She sighed with relief. She was close enough for him to feel her hot breath against his skin.
He felt indebted to her for all the care she’d shown him, so he chose to hear her out. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to move forward otherwise. That was why he’d made a point to stay one more day. He’d decided to leave the following morning not for his sake, but for her—to give her one final deadline to mentally prepare herself.
“I’ve…been wavering this whole time over what to do,” she said. “But I think I need to go back home just once.”
She was finally baring her heart to him. Her drying came to a pause as her hands left his back. He felt the atmosphere grow tense, and he knew he wasn’t just imagining it.
“You said you ran away from home because you didn’t want to inherit your family trade, right?” Jinya asked.
“Yeah. I still don’t know what I’ll do about that, but I want to at least pay a proper visit. Just once.”
Her family had engaged in a certain trade since olden times. Not wanting to continue that trade, she impulsively ran away from home. Her grandfather passed away while she was gone, and now she was too ashamed to return.
“I’ve been running away from a lot of things. My family trade, for starters, but I can’t even commit to being a real sex worker. But more than anything, I’ve been running away from my grandfather.”
She betrayed her grandfather’s expectations by running away and denied him a peaceful death, a fact that weighed heavily on her.