The Dove District was located in East Mukojima of Sumida Ward, Tokyo. To get there, people used to ride the tram from Kanda-Sudacho, cross through Asakusa, and disembark at Mukojima-Susakimachi, from which it was only a short five-minute walk to the flourishing “special restaurant district,” a common euphemism for red-light districts. Many of those who visited the Dove District probably looked out and admired the prospering city of Tokyo as they swayed with the tram’s movements.
But once the Prostitution Prevention Law was fully implemented, the red-light districts were closed for good. Leading up to Showa 47, all the trams except for the Arakawa Line were phased out as well. Never again could the sight of what had been there be savored the same way.
That wasn’t to say the Dove District became ruins or anything of that sort. The normal businesses on the main streets were still around, and the brothels on the side streets had been repurposed into residences and shops. The Dove District Shopping District Association—formerly the Terajima Business Association, founded in Showa 3—had decided to keep the feel of the old Dove District but change it into a neighborhood shopping district.
“This place has changed,” Jinya said thoughtfully. “…Much less than I expected.”
If the Dove District he had seen was a dream, then this place could be no more than the hollowed-out ruins of that dream, or so Jinya had thought. But he arrived to find it a rather lively spot. There was the regular hustle and bustle one would expect from downtown, and the tiled buildings reminiscent of red-light districts were still around. Wild cats dashed through, ignoring the chatter of ladies stopping to gab on their way home from shopping. There were no gaudy pink neon signs, but the place had a unique vitality to it, one different from the old Dove District.
He couldn’t help but feel sad about the differences, but the faint traces of what once had been here set him at ease. The Red-light District of the Après to which men used to make pilgrimages might have been gone, but the Dove District unmistakably remained—just in a different form. And what a great thing that was.
“Now then…” Jinya took out the map of East Mukojima that Yoshihiko had prepared for him. Though he’d lived here for a time, much had changed since then. He was right to bring a map so he wouldn’t get lost.
He began to walk with the map in one hand, but soon he smelled something delicious. He found the source after quickly scanning of the area—a butcher shop with a sign that said “Makita’s Meats.” The smell was of some fried food, and a woman in her forties was in the middle of displaying her freshly fried croquettes.
“Croquettes, huh…” The Dove District and croquettes. Seeing the two things together brought a wry smile to his face.
It would be noon soon, so he figured he might as well eat something while he was here. Perhaps the familiar face that rose to mind was what spurred him to do so, or maybe the croquettes simply seemed that delicious. Before he knew it, he found himself walking over to the butcher shop.
“I’ll have a croquette.”
“Sure thing! That’ll be fifty yen!” An energetic, cheerful voice responded to his order. She was a broad-shouldered woman in her forties. Age must have made her put on weight, but judging from her facial features, she’d probably been quite the beauty back in her heyday.
Jinya took the croquette she handed him and paid her fifty yen. He liked his croquettes slathered in sauce; they paired extra well with rice that way. That was something Jingo had taught him. Jinya had no rice at the moment, though, and so he took a bite of the croquette as it was. The coating was thin, and the potato was fluffy. A lighter amount of minced meat was used, and he could taste the sweetness of well-fried onion. The texture was excellent. It was a simple but delicious croquette.
“What do you think? Our croquettes are pretty damn good, right?”
“They are. It has a well-honed, nostalgic flavor.”
“Ah ha ha ha! Even a young kid like you thinks so, huh?” The woman opened her mouth wide and laughed.
Jinya mused to himself that “nostalgic” was, indeed, a strange word for a young man of his apparent age as he took another bite. The woman stared as he ate. Wondering what was wrong, he looked back and saw her cock her head.
“Say, have you bought from us here before?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“Right, that’s what I thought. Huh. Weird, I just feel like I’ve seen you before. Something about croquettes… Oh well. It’s probably nothing.” The woman muttered to herself for a bit before abandoning the thought and putting on a cheerful smile.
His spirits lifted, and he suddenly got the urge to ask something. “Do you mind if I ask a question too?”
“Go for it,” she said.
His question was one he had wanted to ask for a long time. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Well, that’d be the croquettes my husband makes, no doubt!” she replied without missing a beat.
Grinning, Jinya bought another croquette in lieu of thanks. After a quick goodbye, he left the butcher shop behind and speedily dug into the croquette as he walked.
“Delicious.”
The second croquette tasted even better than the first. Its flavor must have reached all the way to his heart.
Relying on the map, Jinya snaked his way through the shopping district and many of its alleys. Eventually he was greeted with a nostalgic sight.
It had seen better days, but it was mostly the same—a two-story café-style building with tiled walls and a balcony. Even the two rather striking diagonal brass door handles were just as he remembered them. The only big difference was that the signboard now said “Sakuraba-sou.” The place had been Sakuraba Milk Hall back when it was a brothel, but it seemed to have been refurbished into an apartment. A shame, but that was time for you.