After removing the bamboo leaf, she slid the smooth bun into her mouth; it was moist and subtly sweet. As she relished the elegant taste, she rolled up the bamboo leaf and said, “This smells so wonderful, too…”
“It’s bamboo from deep in Kurama. Apparently, you can’t get leaves that look as pretty and smell as good as these anywhere else.”
There didn’t seem to be anyone in the house; it was silent except for the occasional passing car heading toward Matsuo.
“This restaurant didn’t even have a sign outside.”
“Yeah, they don’t accept unfamiliar customers. You need a regular to introduce you before you can eat here. And there’s just two tables. They apparently use only what they’ve got inside the house. You can even spend the night, too. They fill the bath in the afternoon. It’s an ancient bath, probably haunted.”
“What kind of people come here?”
“Folks like us, plus the occasional celebrity, apparently. Kyoto’s a big town, though. There are tons of places like this.”
“You sure know a lot.”
“About Kyoto?”
“About the women you bring here.”
“You’re the only one, Iwako. I’ve told you that countless times.”
“And I wanted to hear you say it again, so I’ll keep on bringing it up.”
“You’re so cute,” Oba teased before checking his watch. “You must be hungry, right?”
“I am, but I’m all right waiting if the food’s going to be that good.”
“I know I need to relax while we’re here, but it’s just a habit of mine. Can’t help but constantly check my watch when things are this slow.”
Oba was a relatively laid-back, calm man, but even he would get antsy every so often. The service here really was moving in slow motion.
“Are you okay for time?” Iwako asked, worried.
“Yeah, I’m fine today. No hurry at all. I’m sure you were really busy today, though.”
Iwako had been working half days on Saturdays lately, so if they were going to meet in Kyoto, it had to be on a Saturday. Oba didn’t go out at night or on Sundays.
“I already had plans with someone earlier, so this worked out perfectly,” said Iwako.
Last night, Iwako’s older sister called her about a potential husband she wanted to set Iwako up with. She told her sister she had no intention of getting married.
“Come on, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” her sister chided. “At least listen to what I have to say before you shut me down. Be grateful when people try to show you a little kindness.” Then she asked, “Can I at least show you a picture of him?”
“Sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to change my mind.”
“I’ll get us a seat at a café near your work tomorrow, so meet me after you’re done for the day.”
Her sister didn’t even wait for a reply, so Iwako had no choice but to meet up with her. She tried to decline without upsetting her sister.
“He’s a regular at my hubby’s factory. Lost his wife last year. He lives with his mother and two daughters now, but both daughters are about to get married, so I figured you might as well marry the guy. It sure beats getting old alone. Plus, he’s rich.”
“I don’t need money, and I’m not worried about growing old alone, either. Besides, I plan on putting myself in a home whenever I get too old to move anyway.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very self-centered. There’s no way I’d to be able to move in with someone and make compromises. Sorry, Sis.”
“So, it’s a no, huh? Shame. I really thought he’d make a good match for you. He’s fifty-three. His blood pressure’s a little high, but he’s in good health for the most part.”
“I can’t even cook or anything like that. I just wouldn’t make a good wife,” Iwako had claimed, putting an end to the conversation.
Iwako actually liked to cook, and she wasn’t against doing chores around the house from time to time, but she wasn’t interested in doing any of that for anyone else. She never even entertained the idea of bringing Oba back to her apartment. In fact, the thought of cooking dinner for him and making him miso soup in the morning never crossed her mind. She wasn’t going to pretend to be someone’s wife or engage in any marital traditions.
Iwako’s sister tried to emphasize how she should worry about her future, but Iwako had received some inheritance money when their father passed away. She’d been investing that money wisely, so her savings hadn’t diminished in the slightest. One of the men in accounting at her job loved talking about stocks and making money, and he always shared what he knew with her, so Iwako learned how to invest properly. She took out a loan for an apartment in Osaka’s Higashi Ward, which she was renting out. She was out almost all day, so she wasn’t planning on ever living there herself. It was an investment to her. She never mentioned it to her siblings, though. They used to say, “You’ve saved up a small fortune. I can smell it,” but when they saw how frugally she lived, they figured she must be barely getting by on her father’s inheritance. Even her brother, who was working at a store that sold construction materials, stopped asking her to lend him money.
Truth be told, Iwako had made a killing during the huge surge in stock prices earlier that year and had doubled her financial standing. But she didn’t tell anyone that, of course. She wasn’t planning on opening a shop or doing any sort of business on her own, either. She was fine with keeping her fortune a secret and being “that clerk” for as long as Yamatake Fabrics stayed in business. Not even Oba knew about this talent of hers, although her confidence probably helped create a part of her charm.
Just like how Iwako didn’t tell Oba about her finances, she also didn’t tell him that she was constantly working on her body in every way she could. She didn’t have any real dental problems but nonetheless went to the dentist often to get her teeth cleaned and whitened. She took meticulous care of herself by frequenting saunas and massage parlors. There was nothing she could do to prevent aging, but she could dress nicely and appropriately to make it less obvious. She also had five drinks a night because she heard that sake moisturized the skin and made it glow.
However, there was something that made her skin glow more than any sake, and that something was men. A lifelong bachelorette, Iwako no longer dreamed of getting married. And with that dream gone, she felt positively liberated. Not that she would admit as much in public.
The food had finally arrived: spikenard and broiled butterfish preserved in miso, along with assorted sweet shrimp, icefish, and rock tripe as well. Then came the final dish.
“Careful, it’s hot…,” the woman warned as she placed the sea bream with turnips on the table. They were served in beautiful, heavy bowls covered in rising steam.
“This will definitely warm us up,” Oba commented in delight. “Here.”
He handed Iwako a cup. It was Kiyomizu ware, very thin and almost see-through. Then he poured her a light-gold-colored liquor, and she poured him a cup as well.
I wonder how many more times we’ll do something like this, Iwako thought as she took a sip. I could die right now and not regret a thing.
Before Kuno, Iwako had dated younger men but didn’t feel a connection with any of them, just like she hadn’t with Kuno, either. They were so young and shameless, and although Iwako liked their intensity, young men simply did nothing for her. After they did the deed, all that followed was silence as they put their clothes back on. It made her begin to wonder: What goes on in that empty head of his?