After thoroughly enjoying Kyoto Seishu Netsuke Art Museum, Yilin visited Mibu-dera Temple across the street and had a look around. Before she knew it, it was evening, and she had to hurry over to Teramachi-Sanjo.
She arrived at Kura around 5:50 p.m. Upon opening the door, she found Aoi standing behind the counter while Kiyotaka stood in front. Judging by the briefcase in Kiyotaka’s hand, he’d just arrived too.
The two of them looked at Yilin and blinked.
“Oh, good evening, Yilin,” said Aoi.
“Is today not your day off?” Kiyotaka asked.
“I’m curious about yesterday’s customer,” Yilin admitted shyly.
Aoi and Kiyotaka smiled.
“I see,” said Kiyotaka. “I should prepare for his arrival too.” He took off his jacket, revealing his usual vest. His sleeve garters were also already in place.
He’s handsome in a suit, but this look is still the best for him, Yilin secretly thought.
“He should be here soon, so I’ll make coffee,” Kiyotaka said, entering the kitchenette and washing his hands.
“Thank you,” said Aoi. She placed the box containing the netsuke on the counter.
Yilin excitedly went up to Aoi and whispered, “There’s also the question of whether he really was Matsunosuke.”
“True.” Aoi giggled. “I don’t doubt it, though.”
“Me neither, actually,” Yilin said with a mischievous grin. “I’m mostly curious as to why his grandfather chose to leave him that netsuke.”
Aoi blinked.
“Are you not, Aoi?” Yilin asked.
“Well...I think I have an idea.”
“Huh?”
The door chime rang, and the man from yesterday stepped into the store. He was wearing a dark-gray kimono today.
“Welcome,” Yilin and Aoi said in unison.
When the man saw the two women standing behind the counter, his eyes widened. “Wait, are you Kiyotaka Yagashira’s fiancée?” he asked Aoi.
Aoi blushed, perhaps embarrassed by the descriptor he’d used. “Um, yes. I’m Aoi Mashiro. It’s been a while, Matsunosuke.”
So he is the kabuki actor.
“Who’s the other young lady, then?” Matsunosuke asked, glancing at Yilin.
“She’s our new part-timer, a student from China named Yilin Jing,” Aoi replied.
Matsunosuke’s eyes widened further. “Oh, she’s from abroad? Her Japanese is very fluent.”
“Thank you,” Yilin said with a bow.
“I see...” Matsunosuke muttered. “And here I thought I remembered incorrectly.”
“Good evening, Matsunosuke,” said Kiyotaka, returning from the kitchenette with a tray. “Please have a seat.” He set the coffee on the counter, his movements just as graceful as the kabuki actor’s.
The cup and saucer were Arita ware, featuring the traditional pine, bamboo, and plum blossom design along with a Chinese phoenix.
“What a gorgeous cup,” Yilin murmured softly.
Matsunosuke has a plain face, very short hair, and a simple kimono. Wouldn’t such an ornate cup clash with his unassuming aura?
Finding Kiyotaka’s choice surprising, she glanced at Matsunosuke to gauge his reaction. The man looked at the showy cup and smiled in delight as he drank his coffee.
Huh, Yilin thought, giving a small nod. It seemed that Matsunosuke was unexpectedly fond of flashy things. Suddenly, she recalled Takamiya’s words: “We crave what we don’t have.” Perhaps it was precisely people like Matsunosuke who craved extravagance.
He’d probably been excited when he found out his grandfather had left him something, only for it to be a tiny antique netsuke. It was easy to imagine how disappointed he must have felt, especially considering that he’d also said, “Grandfather was a man of few words, but there was always meaning behind his actions.”
After a couple of sips of coffee, Matsunosuke looked at Kiyotaka and asked, “So is the netsuke valuable?”
“Yes, it’s a fine piece.” Kiyotaka repeated his explanation from the day before: The netsuke was an authentic work by the first-generation Masanao Suzuki, it was in great condition, and Kura would be happy to buy it from him.
“I see...” Matsunosuke scratched his head, a conflicted look on his face. “My grandfather was a connoisseur who collected all kinds of things. But after learning that he was ill, he said he was going to prepare for his death and began parting ways with his collection.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“These netsuke were the only things he left to us instead of selling. I wonder what it means.”
“Well...” Kiyotaka looked down at the wooden mouse. “This is purely my own speculation, but would you like to hear my thoughts?”
“Of course.” Matsunosuke nodded with a serious expression.
“Your grandfather relinquished everything except for these netsuke. In other words, these were the only things he couldn’t part with. I suspect he saw kabuki reflected in them.”
“Kabuki?”
“Yes. Kabuki and netsuke have something in common: They were widely loved in the Edo period by samurai and commoners alike. They’re still cherished today, of course, but they aren’t part of everyday culture like they were back then. Also, netsuke were a means of competing in chicness—a refined sense of style that is also mandatory in kabuki.”
“So he was telling us to become chic kabuki actors?” Matsunosuke sounded skeptical.
Instead of answering his question with a yes or no, Kiyotaka merely smiled. “I am told that your father received a Daikoku netsuke, Kisuke received a frog, and you received this mouse. Is that correct?”
“Um, yes.”
“Daikoku—that is, Daikokuten—is the god of economic fortune and matchmaking.”
Oh, so that’s what Daikoku is, Yilin thought, finally understanding the word she’d heard yesterday. The god was known in China as well.
“Did you know that the word ‘daikoku-bashira’—central pillar—originated from Daikokuten?” Kiyotaka continued. “I imagine your grandfather left your father a Daikoku netsuke with the hope that he would become an important pillar of the Ichikata family.”
Matsunosuke listened in silence.
“Next, the frog for Kisuke. Since ancient times, frogs have been said to bring good luck. It was probably a prayer for Kisuke to gain more fans, both in kabuki and the world of entertainment in general, along with the hope that he’ll never give up, just like Ono no Michikaze as depicted in the Hanafuda card ‘Willow and Frog.’”