Chapter 7
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In Tokyo, it often snowed until just past the first week of February. On this day, snow was seen fluttering in the air since afternoon.
A cold day like this called for oden ? stewed vegetables, eggs, meat, and fish cakes in clear broth. The decision was already made in Kento’s mind the moment the snowflakes began to drift in the air. Just as he always did after school, he went back to his dorm room to finish his homework, and headed out right afterwards to the supermarket to buy the day’s groceries.
When he arrived at Miyashita Clinic, he announced to Orihara in the consultation room that they were having oden tonight.
“That sounds delicious. I think that’s what I’ll make tonight, too,” said Nurse Nakagawa as she took the receipt from him and handed him the cash from Orihara’s wallet, which she was took care of.
Orihara looked out the window. “Mrs. Nakagawa, you can go home early before the snow starts to accumulate,” he called to her.
Nakagawa was putting her coat on and getting ready to go home when the phone at the reception desk rang.
“Doctor, it’s from a patient.”
The call was from an elderly lady called Okumura, saying she had a stomach ache but would take a while to get to the clinic because snow was falling. Orihara thought for a while before he answered.
“Ms. Okumura, I’ll head over there myself,” he said, and hung up the phone.
He then began to put away ampoules and medicine inside his house-call bag.
“Mrs. Nakagawa, would you be able to drop me off at Ms. Okumura’s place? I’ll take a taxi back.”
“Not a problem.”
“You can count on me to take care of the place while you’re gone,” Kento said proudly. “I’ll whip up some delicious oden while you’re out.”
Once the two of them left, dead silence fell around the house. It was as if the falling snow was blotting out all the sound around them. He felt like he was in a house nestled deep in the mountains, far away from civilization.
The room was filled with the gentle hissing of the oden simmering and its mouthwatering aroma. Kento was plucking the strings of his guitar absently.
The ringing of the telephone broke the silence in the living room. Kento approached the old-fashioned rotary phone.
“Wow, he still uses this?” Perhaps he didn’t have a choice, since it personally belonged to Orihara’s uncle, who was over seventy. Kento picked up the receiver.
“Yes, you’ve reached Orihara.”
There was a pause before a man’s deep voice answered over the line.
“Is Yuri there?” he asked.
“Um, Dr. Orihara is out making a house call right now.” He felt a stir of curiosity at the man calling Oriahra by his first name, but nevertheless handled the phone call professionally.
“Are you a patient? I think Dr. Orihara will be back soon, but if you would like for him to call back I can take a message.”
There was another moment of silence.
“No. I’ll call again another time,” said the voice, and the line went dead.
I wonder who it was. I didn’t get his name. Oh well, he said he’d call back later, anyway. Then, he realized how much time had passed and went to the kitchen to turn off the stove.
“Oh, no, I’ve let the broth boil down too much,” he muttered as he added hot water, replaced the lid, and went back to the living room. “He’s taking awfully long. Is he having trouble catching a taxi?”
Kento was getting hungry, but that was the least of his troubles. He found himself suddenly getting worried.
“Don’t tell me he’s been in an accident?“
The rotary telephone rang again, and Kento pounced on it.
“Hello, you’ve reached Orihara!”
“Oh, it’s you again.”
It was the same low male voice, and Kento knew it was the same person from before.
“I’m sorry. He’s not back yet.”
The man on the other end seemed at a loss. “You,” he began hesitantly, “what’s your name?”
“I’m Kento Yamashiro, Yuri’s best friend,” Kento said in the most mature voice he could muster. It might be a little different from the truth, but it was true for him, at least.
“I see… Yuri’s best friend….” The man continued, sounding somewhat hesitant. “That’s fine, but… is Yuri really not home?”
“Huh?” Kento realized that the man suspected Orihara of pretending to be out. “He really is away doing a house call,” he insisted. “It’s just that it’s snowing outside, and the roads are probably congested right now.”
“Snowing? Is it snowing in Tokyo, too?” a surprised voice responded.
“What do you mean, in Tokyo, too? Where are you calling from?”
“Kanazawa.”
Hadn’t Orihara said that his hometown was in Kanazawa? Kento felt a flag going up.
“Do you happen to be Yuri’s…?”
“I’m Yuri’s older brother,” the man introduced himself. “I want to ask you for a favour, since you say you’re Yuri’s best friend. Can I ask you to do this?”
He was so polite about it that Kento didn’t have a reason to refuse. He told the man to go ahead.
“When Yuri comes home, please ask him to answer my calls.”
Orihara was refusing to even speak to his own brother ? what was that about?
“Um… are you in a fight?” Kento couldn’t help but ask.
“No. Let me make this clear before you misunderstand: it’s not that Yuri and I are on bad terms. His guilt towards me is making him go out of his way.” His voice was quiet and filled with sadness. Kento didn’t know what to say back.
“I’ll call back later,” the man said. “Please convince him to answer the phone when I do.”
After hanging up the phone, Kento went back to the sofa and picked up the guitar. But instead of holding the pick, he simply ran his fingers along the strings, recounting the phone conversation over and over in his head.
The snow outside was wet and heavy as it fell in the hazy orbs of light from the lamps at the gates. Their forlorn drifting was almost like that of dead microorganisms sinking into the depths of the ocean where no light shone.
There was no other sound, save for the occasional heavy thump of snow falling from the branches, and the faint humming of the strings when his fingers touched them.
When it had just started snowing, he could hear the sirens of the ambulance far away, but even that had ceased. Kento sat alone in silence, waiting for Orihara to return.