“Ijichi,” Gojo said, “since we’re drinking together, let’s talk about this week’s issue of Jump!”
“I h-haven’t read it.”
“Seriously? There are actually people who don’t read Jump? What did you read growing up? Or were you the intellectual who read ancient poetry in the Kokin Wakashū?”
“Is there an option besides Jump and Kokin Wakashū?”
“I’m appalled. Then shall we talk about baseball? Politics?”
“Huh? No, I avoid topics that provoke disagreement.”
“Me? I’m a big fan of Mitsunari Ishida,” Gojo said. “But I can’t say he did much after Hideyoshi died.”
“Politics from the Sengoku Period? That was unexpected.”
“Ijichi, our precious present rests atop the deeds of our forebears.”
“Yes, I know, but …”
Gojo’s fine sentiment sounded as thin as a spring roll wrapper coming as it did from the very person trying to destroy the old system of the jujutsu world, but Ijichi didn’t have the courage to say so.
“Y-you admire Mitsunari Ishida, do you?” Ijichi asked.
“Well, according to the stories, he always served lukewarm tea,” Gojo said.
“I’ve never heard anyone describe a Sengoku commander like a household servant before.”
“Then let’s decide who would be the strongest general, regardless of the time period. I propose Satoru Gojo.”
“I too think he would win.”
“Yes, but Sugawara no Michizane could be a problem.”
“Stop throwing around big names.”
The banter was nothing new, but it was flying faster than normal. Ijichi cast a glance at Ieiri to indicate he was having trouble keeping up, but she was preoccupied.
“The tuna’s here!” she said. “That means it’s sake time! Waiter, what brand have you got?”
“We have Hakkaisan.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have!”
Ieiri was ready to start knocking it back. She was the one who had chosen this restaurant, but it was still surprising to see how comfortable she was here. The way she called out to the server suggested she was a regular.
“What’s wrong, Ijichi?” she said. “Have you had enough to drink?”
“Uh … yes, I have.”
“Oh. Well, when the nimono gets here, don’t hold back. The chef here has serious skills!”
“Eh? Flattery won’t get you free food!” the chef called back. To the server, he said, “Prepare the usual for Shoko!”
“Comin’ up, General!” the server replied.
Ijichi was taken aback when the chef called Ieiri by her first name. He wouldn’t mind being able to do that himself.
“The server is new, but she’s really zippy,” Ieiri said. “She has four sisters-in-law, so she’s holding down multiple jobs to send ’em to college. It’s like something out of a manga.”
“You asked her about all this?” Ijichi asked.
“Well, I’ve been coming here for a long time.”
“Oh, I see …”
Now it made sense. Ieiri was no mere regular—she came here so often that she knew all about the servers’ lives. That explained why the chef addressed her by her first name. Ijichi could accept that.
Before long, the server brought a delicious-looking shiokara, then poured sake into a glass until it overflowed into a wooden masu sake box, which in turn overflowed into a dish below it.
“That’s a lot of sake!” Ijichi exclaimed.
“Usually you catch sake overflowing the glass with a masu sake box, but this restaurant pours so much it also overflows the box. It’s a secret specialty called a double waterfall.”
“So it’s about two servings?”
“More bang for your buck, right?”
Ijichi was shocked that Ieiri could drink this much so easily, but he refrained from saying anything. “And … what’s that dish that looks like shiokara?”
“Shuto,” she said.
“Shuto?”
“It’s shiokara made from skipjack tuna entrails. Anyway, whenever I flatter the chef, this materializes, and I’ve come to look forward to it. You can have some if you want.”
“Oh … thank you.”
“But beer isn’t enough to follow it.”
“Oh? Then, um …”
“A good side dish requires the right drink. Order sake and use your leftover beer as a chaser. As for me, I demand an assortment of cheese!”
“Um, all right. Sake … lukewarm.”
As Ieiri was touching her lips to the rim of the glass where sake was about to overflow, Ijichi’s sake arrived. Of course, none of this was going to be free. When the cheese arrived, Ieiri assembled the dishes before her with a triumphant air and explained her method.
“You put the shuto on the cheese, then follow it with sake. Try it.”
Ijichi hunched, timidly following Ieiri’s recommendation. “Oh, this is good. It’s like drinking anchovies!”
“Told ya!” Ieiri exclaimed. “Look, Gojo! Ijichi’s on my side!”
“Hunh?! I don’t get all that nonsense about shiokara on cheese at all! Cheese is like a resident of the Country of Sweets that got abducted from Scone, its betrothed, and whisked away to the Country of Drunkards. Does that sound about right, Ijichi?”
“Huh? Uh … no. What?”
“Pfaw!” Ieiri scoffed. “It’s your loss, teetotaler, because it totally rocks! Right, Ijichi?”
“When did Shoko get like this, Ijichi?” Gojo asked.
As Ieiri was gobbling tuna and gulping sake, Gojo was adding vanilla ice cream to his melon soda. Ijichi, caught between a woman who could drink like a fish and a child-like man with a massive sweet tooth, sipped his sake. He was afraid all this food and drink would confuse his stomach, but the sake tasted good and the food was even better, so he didn’t feel that bad about it.
“The food and drink here really are good,” he said.
“I always recommend this joint,” Ieiri replied. “A lot of regulars bring their kids, so the restaurant also serves soft drinks and desserts. That means Gojo can come!”
“Are you treating me like a child?” Gojo asked.
“Well, you are like a big child,” Ieiri replied.
As the two traded barbs, Ijichi dipped his chopsticks into the offal stew. Ieiri was right: it was delicious. The chef had cooked the meat to perfection. The pleasant miso-based seasoning had a strong taste of ginger. It was a perfect accompaniment for sake. Chopped shiso was served as an accent to the tuna, which also went excellently with sake, and the salty-sweet abalone also tempted his chopsticks. The chef’s skill was undeniable.
Ijichi felt good for the first time in a long while. As time passed in a leisurely fashion, he got drunk in a leisurely fashion. The more he drank, the heavier he felt.
“Ijichi, it’s been a while since you came out drinking,” Ieiri said.
“Hm?” Ijichi thought back. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. It has been a while. Maybe that’s why the alcohol is so quick to affect me.”
Gojo interrupted, slamming his mug on the table. “You’re just tired!”
“But I didn’t really accomplish any work worth noting today,” Ijichi replied.
“Your exhaustion has been building up,” Gojo insisted.
Ieiri said, “People say alcohol is the best medicine, and there’s something to that! If you drink enough to feel good, you relax, and then your exhaustion hits. Ijichi, when was the last time you had any downtime?”
“Hmm …” Ijichi hadn’t had any time off since the Goodwill Event. Which only made sense—it had been an unusual set of circumstances resulting in multiple deaths. He hadn’t had the luxury of taking time off. He still couldn’t believe he’d managed to find some free time today.