“I think it’s because you’re such a kind young man. You can’t beat yourself up like that just because you didn’t notice. Next time will be different.”
“The next time wasn’t different for me,” Nomiya said in a pained voice. Mitsuri searched for the words to respond.
“First of all, I’m not kind,” Nomiya continued. “I’m selfish. In Takagi’s case, I didn’t think about anything but winning my tournament. When it was Urata’s turn, all I thought about was talking back to a cranky old man. Although I was certainly sorry later.”
“Look, none of us are saints. I can be self-centered myself. And this time in particular, it’s really not your fault. What if you had noticed and suggested that Urata go to the hospital? He probably wouldn’t have listened to you anyway. So you can’t fret about it like that.”
Nomiya just shook his head and kept crying as if he couldn’t even hear Mitsuri’s words. She sighed to herself. How could she make him understand?
“You should try it like this. It’s really delicious!” Tsugi interrupted.
While they were talking, Tsugi had polished off his peperoncino and placed the katsudon in front of Nomiya. Then, on top of it, he deposited a generous portion of kimchi. The golden-brown of the cutlet was perfectly balanced by the yellow egg yolk and green scallions, and with the bright red pickles as a garnish. Nomiya couldn’t help but say, “Wow. What are you doing? I can’t eat something like that!”
“You can. It’s delicious!”
Tsugi held out a pair of chopsticks to Nomiya. “Take them.” When Nomiya seemed reluctant to take them, Tsugi paused for just a moment, then pressed them into his hands, saying, “Now, eat. Or it will get cold.”
Tsugi’s tone sharpened, and Nomiya accepted the chopsticks as if compelled. Then, gingerly, he lifted a piece of cutlet, covered with kimchi and egg, onions and sauce, but his face darkened.
“Hold on,” Tsugi quickly intervened. “I’m forgetting something important. Wait a minute…here you go.”
After rummaging through the bags, he pulled out a small packet of mayonnaise. He opened it and squeezed it back and forth over the kimchi-covered cutlets. Nomiya said, “Wow…” again, but then in an abject voice, continued. “I meant to say, I don’t deserve to eat anything like this.”
As Nomiya looked at the bowl of food with furrowed brows, his expression changed slightly. Curious, Mitsuri watched Nomiya, who was gazing intently at the katsudon. “That’s it,” she murmured. Was it the delicate latticework of mayonnaise lacing the top that whetted his appetite? She had to admit it looked delicious.
Nomiya silently conveyed the fully dressed morsel of pork to his mouth. He chewed, and then took another, larger bite. He was gathering momentum steadily.
“Good, isn’t it?” asked Tsugi, and Nomiya nodded vigorously.
Once he started eating, it was like a switch had been flipped. Nomiya bolted down the katsudon with even more vigor than usual. In an instant, more than half of it had vanished. But in the middle of all that, suddenly, his chopsticks stilled, and again, the tears began to flow.
“I…I’m stuffing myself when I should be concerned. It just seems…” Once again, Nomiya faltered.
“Move your chopsticks,” Tsugi responded curtly. “It’s natural to feel that good things are good,” he said with some exasperation between bites of the sandwich, into which he had inserted the leftover sausages. “Say your parents die. You’re still going to get hungry. If you can’t taste what’s good, something really is wrong with you. What I mean is, to eat without enjoying yourself is to disrespect the food.”
Making short work of his sandwich, Tsugi then placed a peperoncino pasta in front of Nomiya, saying, “Here, this is your share,” and adding forcefully, “Now, don’t think. Eat!” Under heavy pressure, Nomiya lifted his chopsticks again. “The more we suffer, the more we should eat. If you don’t get enough nutrition, it distorts your thinking.”
Nomiya finished the katsudon and reached for the pasta. Tsugi plunked down a sausage on top. Nomiya, who had been eating in silence for a while, mumbled something. Mitsuri pricked up her ears, trying to hear what he was saying.
“…it’s good.”
Tsugi nodded. “Isn’t it? Now, pay some attention to your food.”
Nomiya continued to eat without speaking. Mitsuri felt that something like life was slowly returning to his face. Then she took a surreptitious glance at Tsugi. What an extraordinary person.
“When I told you to eat, I had no idea how much! How many servings was that?” Mitsuri giggled, then she looked over at the side door to the store. There stood Shiba. He looked a little tired, which was not surprising, since he had been detained since noon.
“Sorry I’m late. Mr. Urata’s daughter likes to talk. So we talked, for quite a while, and time kept passing.” Shiba seated himself next to Mitsuri, and Nomiya broke off from his meal again, but Shiba urged him on. “Eat, eat!” He waited for Nomiya to finish, a gentle smile playing across his face, then spoke.
“Listen to this. Mr. Urata says he looked forward to it.”
“Huh?” Nomiya looked up.
“Mr. Urata said he looked forward to visiting the store every day. He told his daughter on the phone! ‘The staff are always cheerful, and they smile at me even when I’m in a bad mood,’ he said. He got to know people in similar situations to his, and it made him want to get out of the house more often.
“Also, he has a grandson who’s a high school junior.” Shiba chuckled to remember it. “The kid came to the hospital, too. He was on his school rugby team, a total muscle man. He said his grandfather was always talking about how much he resembled Nomiya.”
“Me?”
“He told his grandson that there was a kid working at the store who had a much better physique than him, but for some reason he had given up on the team and was just frittering his time away. Apparently he was really worried about it.”
“Come to think of it,” Nomiya said quietly, “when I first started here, he asked me if I did any clubs. I told him I used to be on a wrestling team, but now I’ve quit, and he scolded me. He said it was a waste, not making use of my gifts. Then after that, whenever he saw me, he’d say my muscles were a waste, and that I had better things to do than working for pay.
“I thought he was saying all that just to be mean,” Nomiya said, downcast.
“I guess he really had high hopes for you! He had a gruff way of showing it, so you didn’t get it. It wasn’t easy to understand. It was hard for me, too.” Shiba spoke gently. “It’s hard to know what’s inside a person. If you judge people only by their words and faces, you miss the really important things. But then, what should we do instead? I think it’s best to let people’s actions speak for themselves. Mr. Urata actually enjoyed coming to our convenience store! That’s the real story, isn’t it? Every day, he was the first one in. So when it seemed like he just kept ragging on Nomiya, that must have been Urata’s way of cheering him on.”
Nomiya’s expression twisted oddly.
“Now, here’s my idea. Mr. Urata is alive and well, and when he recovers a little more he’ll be able to have a conversation. Why don’t you visit him for a little talk?” Shiba smiled. “What do you think?”
He put his hand on Nomiya’s, which were clasped together on the table. “You can have regrets in life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do something about them. It’s okay.”
Nomiya closed his eyes as if he was thinking just a little, then pieced together a few words in response: “I do want to go. I want to go see Mr. Urata. I want to speak to him properly, and I want to apologize.”
Shiba smiled.
“Why don’t we go together next time? I’m sure Mr. Urata would like that.”
For the first time that day, something like a smile flitted across Nomiya’s face. Mitsuri heaved a sigh of relief to see him brighten up, even just a little.
“So it’s settled? In that case, have a dorayaki!” Tsugi held out one of the sponge cakes to Nomiya. Nomiya smiled in thanks and then shook off Shiba’s hand, which was still clasping his.
“This kind of thing is a clear case of sexual harassment.”
“Ack!” Shiba let out a helpless croak. Watching the scene, Tsugi burst into laughter, and Nomiya turned to him, continuing, “Mr. Whatever Guy, looks like you ate my share of the pudding. I love pudding—I want some more, please!”
Now it was Tsugi’s turn to howl.