Her mother, wearing a black apron and dishing out curry. This was a recollection from March 20th, five years prior.
At the table were little Ringo and Tabuki Keiju, who, though he looked quite grown up, was still a boy at the time. Ringo, age eleven, donned her black velvet dress, just as her mother told her to. Looking back now, she didn’t think it was a material suited to mourning clothes, but that was the only black garment Ringo owned at the time.
“No need to hold back, you can eat as much as you like,” her mother said with a smile.
“Of course, thank you very much,” Tabuki replied in a soft voice, though his posture did not at all relax.
“So, you’re in university now then, Keiju-kun. My how the time flies. Is your mother still doing well?”
“She is, thank you.” As the refined, well-mannered Tabuki finished speaking, he politely brought a bite of curry to his mouth.
“Your curry is always so delicious.”
The smile on his face was a kind that Ringo had never seen before now. It seemed to have a ludicrous sparkle. Seeing him in his black suit, which his wry smile suggested he was unaccustomed to wearing, Ringo thought him a mature, handsome young man.
“Why, thank you. To be honest, we have a secret family recipe. Isn’t that right, Ringo?”
Ringo continued watching Tabuki, her mouth slightly agape, barely hearing her mother’s words. She was caught up in trying to determine just what feeling had overtaken her, but she hadn’t the faintest idea.
Even now, she still remembered that it had taken Tabuki looking her way to finally reclaim her senses. He was superb. Thus, curry was something to be eaten with the one you cherished.
✦ ✦ ✦
The smell of well-stewed curry wafted from the kitchen into the living room.
“All done!” she said proudly, shutting off the flame, scooping a little bit up in the ladle to taste it.
“Mm, perfect.”
She ducked into her room to retrieve her diary from her bed, and then flopped heavily down on the sofa, stifling a laugh.
“Step one is complete. No need for me to worry. Everything is proceeding according to fate,” she said to herself, flipping through the diary. She could not hold back the smile that bubbled up naturally from her heart.
Up next was the main event of Curry Day.
Oginome Ringo wrapped the whole pot of curry up in a furoshiki, then packed all her things into a small tote bag, which she slung over her shoulder. Our empty bellies rumbled at the smell, and my stomach let out a loud growl at least once while she stood in the kitchen. “Control your guts, would ya?” Kanba absurdly demanded, his face frightful.
The penguins kept peeking into the kitchen and drooling, but I had to wonder if they could even eat curry.
We managed to follow her back to the train without being spotted. We boarded at East Kouenji in pursuit, and then disembarked at Ogikubo.
Oginome Ringo cradled the pot carefully in her arms as she passed through the shopping district.
“What a weirdo,” said Kanba, almost entirely to himself.
“That aside, where does she intend to take the curry she made?” We were beginning to grow accustomed to following Oginome Ringo from a fixed distance. She seemed to spend most of her time lost inside her head, or focused on whatever task she was currently set on.
She had spent the entire time on the train looping back and forth between grinning and hanging her head and tensing up her face. She seemed to be in a happy mood. Even now, watching her from behind, we could tell that she was in high spirits.
“It might not be just any old curry,” Kanba muttered, a seriously twisted smile on his face. “Maybe there’s some secret code in the combination of the spices. We can’t rule out the possibility that maybe that curry itself is the Penguindrum.”
“I guess not,” I said doubtfully. No matter how you looked at it, it really was just a normal curry, in a normal pot.
Oginome Ringo walked steadily on, proceeding into a familiar residential district.
“Hey, Aniki. Isn’t this the same road as yesterday?”
“Yeah. That chick’s headin’ to Tabuki’s place.”
Would that really be making her behave so erratically? That energetically? Did she intend for Tabuki to eat that curry?
I then recalled the words I had seen marked on the calendar: Curry Day. Was it really a day so joyful it was worth singing about? Was eating curry with Tabuki what she meant by Curry Day?
Tabuki sat across the table from Ringo.
“Um, so, today is Curry Day, and I was thinking we could eat this together,” said Ringo, opening the pot lid. A gentle steam and the pleasant smell of spices wafted out. “Still, maybe I should have cut the carrots a little bit smaller, so if you like I’ll try to serve it so that you don’t get any! I don’t mind at all if you eat around all the carrots. In fact, I even think that’s cute!”
As Ringo spoke, she spooned the curry over glossy, shining, freshly made rice. Tabuki was moved by her care.
“Ah, I thought it would still be warm,” Ringo fretted, “but maybe I should’ve reheated it once. I can microwave it if you like.”
Tabuki halted Ringo with a smile as she spoke.
“Looks plenty warm to me,” he said. “Plus, you’ve gone to so much trouble. I want to eat it as it is.”
The messy length of Tabuki’s hair. His eyes, behind his glasses, took Ringo in deeply. She suddenly could not speak another word. And then, Tabuki smiled back.
It was simple, but it was a Curry Day for just the two of them, with a homey, practically candlelit warmth. Before the two plates of curry, the pair said their graces.
“Mm, this is delicious. You’re a great cook, Ringo-chan. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful wife someday,” Tabuki said, grinning again as he took another bite.
“No way, it’s just curry!” came the fervent reply.
Tabuki happily ate, and then ate some more. Seeing this gave Ringo courage, and she opened her mouth bashfully.
“Oh, that reminds me, I’ll make us some bento for the birdwatching trip!”
Tabuki’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
“Really? I can’t wait. Are you sure, though? You have cram school, won’t that be difficult?”
“No, not at all! I, well, I’ll do anything if it’s for you. I can make a little bento anytime you like.”
As Ringo spoke softly, eyes downturned and her face growing red, a wide palm reached out to her, gently stroking her hair. Ringo’s gaze drifted further and further downward in shyness.
“Tabuki-san,” she called to him, in a voice both joyful and troubled.
“Ringo-chan,” he said sweetly.
For the first time, Ringo truly understood what it meant to feel as though your heart was ready to leap right out of your throat.