“Do you have any antiques hidden away at home? We buy and appraise.”
If you walk down the bustling shopping arcade of Kyoto’s Teramachi-Sanjo district, you’ll find a small antique store nestled within the rows of buildings. The sign outside displays a single word, seemingly the store’s name: Kura, meaning “storehouse.”
My first impression of this place was, huh, antique stores are usually called ‘Such and Such Gallery,’ or ‘House of Antiques,’ or ‘Vintage Treasures,’ or something. A one-word name like ‘Kura’ is pretty minimalistic. And inside, it seemed more like an old-fashioned cafe than an antique store. The architecture was a blend of Japanese and Western concepts, reminiscent of the Meiji and Taisho eras. There was a small cafe area next to the entrance, and the items for sale were lined up further inside. I also saw an elderly man and woman having coffee and chatting away merrily. Really, if it weren’t for the sign, I would’ve assumed it was a cafe.
As I was stealthily peeking inside the store, I realized that passersby were giving me curious glances.
After a pause, I hurried to straighten my posture and look unassuming. People might find it weird that a high school girl would be loitering in front of an antique store. They might think, “That girl wants to go in, but she can’t.” And, well...they’d be right. Indeed, at that moment, I am a pitiful high school girl who wants to enter this antique store, but instead is awkwardly standing outside. I mean, if it were a more casual shop or a European-style general store, then it might be fine; but I couldn’t just waltz into a “real” antique store like this.
“We buy and appraise.”
Those were the words that originally caught my eye. I’d considered going inside many times already, but in the end, I always continued past.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Kyoto is Japan’s number one tourist destination. Visitors flock here from all around the world at all times of year. But, for us high school students who live here, there isn’t really anything to do. Sure, the shrines and temples are fascinating, but you wouldn’t hang out at those with your friends. If you want to have fun, your options amount to karaoke, malls, the movie theater in Sanjo, and wandering around the rest of the shopping street.
By the way, the Sanjo shopping district has a pretty cute mascot called the Sanjo Birdie. I like it a lot, to the point where I’ll be like, “Oh, this store has a Sanjo Birdie poster on the door! Ahhh, it’s so cute!” Anyway, whenever I came to Sanjo, I’d glance at Kura out of the corner of my eye and pass right on by.
Well, I can’t exactly loiter around outside forever. I tightly gripped the handle of my paper bag. Here I go!
Right as I’d made up my mind, a middle-aged man wearing a suit slipped past me and opened the door with a clatter. “You in, Holmes?” he asked as he entered the store.
Holmes? I was skeptical, but nonetheless I found myself following the man inside. The first thing I saw upon entering was an antique sofa—the kind you might expect to find in an old-fashioned Western house. There was a middle-aged woman enjoying her coffee. A small chandelier dangling from the rather low ceiling. A hefty pendulum clock hanging on the wall. And an assortment of antiques and miscellany lining the many shelves that took up the back of the store.
The store looked rather small from the doorway, but it seemed to extend quite far inside. Next to the reception area with the sofa was a counter, where a young man—most certainly a university student—was sitting. The student-looking man smiled at us and said, “Welcome.” He was pale skinned with a slender build, slightly long bangs, and a fairly...no, very attractive face. Handsome, even. Was he a part-time worker here?
“Hey, Holmes, could you take a look at this for me?” The man in the suit took a seat and placed a wrapped object on the counter.
“Ueda, could you please stop calling me ‘Holmes’ already?”
“It suits you.”
The handsome young man referred to as “Holmes” shrugged his shoulders at “Ueda’s” brazenness, put on a pair of white gloves, and carefully unwrapped the cloth around the object. Inside was an extravagant-looking rectangular wooden box, and opening that box revealed a thick roll of gold mounting. It seemed to be some sort of hanging scroll, and it radiated an expensive aura.
“A gold brocade mounting...” Holmes murmured his surprise and looked back up at the man. “It’s very dressy.”
“Right? I thought so too.”
I tilted my head at their conversation. Dressy?
At the same time, the woman who was drinking her coffee stood up and said, “Oh my, a dress?” She leaned over to look. “Ah, you said ‘dressy,’ but it’s a scroll, not a dress. Looks exquisite, though.”
Holmes smiled at the outspoken woman and replied, “By ‘dressy,’ I did mean ‘overly exquisite,’ Mieko.”
They seemed acquainted with each other, so the customers were probably regulars here.
“Is there a problem with being overly exquisite?”
“Yes. Just like how a liar smoothly strings his words together, counterfeits usually have overly exquisite mounting and packaging. We call those ‘too dressy’ or ‘inconsistent.’”
I nodded as I listened in on his calm explanation.
“Ahh, I see. It’s like a bluff. Would you say that’s a fake, then?” Mieko asked, looking down at the scroll.
Holmes shook his head and said, “That’s what I’ll be determining now. It’s important to not let preconceptions cloud your judgment.” He gently picked up the scroll and unraveled it, revealing a painting of Mount Fuji mounted on the gold brocade. In the foreground was a cherry blossom tree, beyond which towered the solemn mountain. Peeking over at the scroll, I felt as though it was drawing me in. Wow. I felt overwhelmed by the Mount Fuji it so imposingly depicted.
“Oh, this is something all right,” Holmes uttered, seemingly impressed.
“It’s great, yeah?” Ueda’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in.
“Taikan Yokoyama’s Fuji and Sakura. A lovely work of art.”
“Uh huh. It’s in good condition too, so it’s gotta be up there, right?”
“My, if it’s Taikan Yokoyama, it must be expensive,” Mieko chimed in.
“A real Taikan piece is in the millions,” said Ueda. “Maybe this one could even be ten?!”
“Ten million?! Congratulations, Ueda!”
“I’m rich!”
Holmes frowned, looking somewhat apologetically towards the excited pair.
“Indeed, it’s a beautiful piece, and it’s in great condition...but unfortunately, this is a reproduction.”
Ueda froze in place and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“Really? Wouldn’t a Taikan reproduction have the word ‘reproduction’ stamped on it somewhere? I don’t see it anywhere, so it’s gotta be real!”
Holmes replied curtly, “No, this is most certainly a reproduction.”
Ueda’s shoulders suddenly slumped. I didn’t really know what they meant by “reproduction,” but at any rate, the scroll seemed to be a fake. Oh well. Just like Ueda, I found myself disappointed. It was such an intense painting, after all.
I must be pretty sad if I can be moved by a fake hanging scroll. Then again, it must’ve been a huge shock for the man who brought it in thinking it was real. I’m sure he can’t accept that appraisal, especially from such a young shopkeeper, I thought. He won’t say it out loud, but he must be thinking to himself, “He’s probably still inexperienced, right?”
Ueda recovered from the shock surprisingly quickly, and said, “Oh well. I was just thinking I maybe struck gold. Well, if you say it’s fake, it’s fake.” He sighed and rested his chin in his hands.
Huh, he backed down pretty quickly. It felt anticlimactic. Still, he must trust that young shopkeeper quite a bit if he accepted his appraisal so readily. Even though the guy just looks like an attractive university student to me.