A few days later, Urata, who was always first in line for the bento lunches, didn’t show up. The other members had all picked up their lunches and finished eating, and still there was no sign of him, so Mitsuri called the phone number they had on file. There was no response. She told Shiba, who thought he should go over to Urata’s apartment to check on the situation. Urata’s place was about a ten-minute walk from the store.
“He probably just overslept, or had a medical appointment, or something like that,” he said.
Similar incidents had happened before, and each time it turned out to be a simple miscommunication. Mitsuri assumed this one would be no different. “See you soon,” she said lightly, but about fifteen minutes later, she heard an ambulance siren in the distance, and her legs went weak.
“Oh no, I hope…”
Instantly her head was full of unpleasant possibilities. She exchanged glances with Nomiya, who had just come in to work. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” muttered Shōhei, who was buying a bottle of Banana Latte, his drink of choice. Mitsuri put a hand to her chest, heart racing. She had always known in her head that something like this might happen someday, but it was still upsetting.
The ambulance probably had nothing to do with Urata, she told herself, but it seemed like it had been forever, and Shiba hadn’t returned. Her anxiety increased.
“I’ll just go check on them,” said Shōhei, who had been keeping an eye on the dine-in space. Mitsuri bowed her head, saying, “Sorry for the trouble.” Shōhei pedaled off on his cargo bike, and when he returned a scant ten minutes later, a single look on his face told Mitsuri that her fears had become reality.
“It seems he collapsed at home. Mitsuhiko said he would go with him.”
“Oh. Is it…?”
“Mitsuhiko will probably let us know more soon. Let’s wait to hear from him.”
It was about two hours more before Shiba checked in. “He’s okay,” he said, in a voice both exhausted and relieved. “The prognosis is still unclear, but he survived.”
Apparently Urata had suffered a stroke and collapsed. If he had been taken to the hospital just a little later, he might not have survived.
“I’ve just contacted his daughter in Yamaguchi Prefecture,” Shiba said. “I’ll stay here until she arrives.”
“I understand,” Mitsuri replied. “It must be hard for you, too. Hang in there.”
Mitsuri had taken the call in the staff room. When she returned to the front of the store, there were a number of people standing by the checkout counter. She panicked, thinking she had left customers waiting, but it was Shōhei and the members of the Ladies’ Association. They had surrounded Nomiya and were grilling him.
“What could have happened to old Urata?”
“I finally got him to talk the other day, but he didn’t say anything about being ill.”
“The body wears out when you get older, you know. You have to be careful!”
Mitsuri waded into the chattering ring of people. “I’m told Mr. Urata will be okay,” she said. “It’s a good thing the manager discovered him so quickly.”
The faces around her brightened.
“Oh my, yes indeed!”
“You get a lot of unpleasant news at this age, but at least it wasn’t the worst news, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s just like that dear man, isn’t it? Always looking out for his customers.”
In no time the subject had moved on to singing Shiba’s praises, and after everyone had enjoyed the conversation for a while, they went home.
✦ ✦ ✦
Eventually the evening staff arrived for their shift. After Mitsuri had completed the changeover, she stepped into the staff room and found Nomiya still there, although his shift had ended before hers. He was sitting in somewhat of a daze, staring at his phone on the table in front of him.
“What’s wrong, Nomiya?”
He looked up slowly at the sound of Mitsuri’s voice, his face twisted in pain.
“Hey, are you feeling sick?” she asked in surprise, but he shook his head. She asked him again what was wrong, and with a weak voice he responded: “Mr. Urata.”
“I get it. It all happened so quickly, it was a shock. But we’re lucky it ended well, right?” And our lunch service worked pretty well, too, didn’t it? Mitsuri almost added, but thought better of it. Nomiya looked up at Mitsuri through tearful eyes. He bit his bottom lip as if trying to restrain the tears, but they kept coming.
“Hey there. Hey. What is it?”
Mitsuri wasn’t sure why Nomiya was crying. She took a seat opposite him and waited for him to calm down.
At last, he opened his mouth. “I…I always ignore people’s signs.”
“Signs?” Mitsuri parroted, tilting her head in confusion. Still in distress, Nomiya gazed down at his own tears on the table in front of him.
“In high school, there was this guy I’d always practice with. Takagi. At some point I realized that he was in bad shape. He wasn’t moving right and seemed worn out, and, well, also he told me himself he had been feeling weird lately. But I didn’t think about it much, figured he was fatigued, or needed sleep. If I had just told him then to go to the hospital, his illness might not have gotten so bad…”
Nomiya gulped, as if trying to swallow his tears.
“I—I told him…I told him that when we got to college we’d keep wrestling together, but now he can’t do anything like that anymore. I feel so bad about that.”
Mitsuri looked at Nomiya. So that’s what happened. That’s why he gave up wrestling.
“I…that’s bouncing around in my head and I can’t get it out. I wanted to make sure that if something like this ever happened again I wouldn’t regret it the same way as last time, but…”
His hands clenched on the table. His fists, large and rugged as two boulders, were trembling.
“The other day when I brought Mr. Urata his lunch, he said, ‘My head hurts.’ ”
“His head?”
“You remember there was a day when Mr. Urata’s mood was worse than usual? That day, I asked if something was bothering him. He yelled at me and said his head hurt and he couldn’t help it, could he, and if I kept talking to him like a loudmouth, it would only hurt more, so would I please just shut up. So finally I got ticked off and stopped talking. Then he told me to leave because I was ruining his lunch, so I did…
“Here,” Nomiya said, and held out his phone. It seemed he had been looking up information about strokes. One of the warning signs was a headache, it said.
“I did the exact same thing again. I spent so much time in my head about it, thinking no way ever again will I let this happen. I was sure that was enough, but I was a total failure. Just because I got a little mad…”
“Hey, well, you know Mr. Urata is always in a bad mood. If I’d been in your shoes, I think I would have done my best to ignore him, too.”
Mitsuri thought back to that day. Certainly Mr. Urata had been in a foul mood from the moment he entered the store. But she, too, had paid it no mind, thinking it was just the usual state of affairs. If Nomiya was at fault, then she was equally so. But Nomiya stood up so forcefully, his chair knocked backward on the floor with a loud bang.
“That’s not the point!” he shouted. “It’s got nothing to do with what someone else would do! To tear myself apart about this for so long, and then when the crucial moment comes, to make the same mistake again? I can’t forgive myself, and there’s nothing I can do about it!”
Mitsuri could do nothing but goggle at his fierce display. When he noticed her look, Nomiya’s face contorted again.
“I can’t help shouting, do you understand? I’m furious at myself. Really, I’m the worst. I am.” With that, Nomiya fled the room. Mitsuri hurriedly chased after him, but when she exited the store he was nowhere in sight.
She went back into the store and turned to Hirose, who was now working the checkout counter. “Hey, do you know which way Nomiya went?”
He shook his head. “What’s up with him? He blew out of here on his moped like his life depended on it.”
Oh, that’s dangerous, she thought. Hirose’s concerned tone only heightened Mitsuri’s anxiety. Nomiya was tormenting himself. She couldn’t leave things like this.
What to do? What to do?
She wanted to contact Shiba, but he was probably still at the hospital. So what could she do…? She thought frantically, and then the white piece of paper popped into her mind.
“The business card!” she exclaimed reflexively, rummaging in her handbag. Snatching it out, she dialed the number on the card. A few rings, and then she heard a low voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” she said. “This is Mitsuri, the clerk at Tenderness.” Her heart beat just a little faster. “Um, remember I was asking you about what sort of problems you handled? Well, I’ve got one here. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”
There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line. “What do you need?”