Episode One Hundred and Nineteen
Aki-san had mentioned it was a bit of a walk from the station.
We alighted at the station two stops away and headed towards the new place, relying on Google Maps. Along the way, we spotted a bakery.
The air was filled with the light, toasty scent of wheat and butter baking. Shelves lined with an array of bread. Ibara, arms folded, stopped in her tracks.
“Fancy some?”
“Yeah. Probably. We’ll likely come here often.”
“Shall we grab lunch?”
Our lunch plans were undecided.
There were family restaurants and chain gyudon joints near the station, which weren’t bad, but the scent of freshly baked bread was irresistible.
We pushed open the stylish door and picked up trays and tongs.
“Shigure-san, look! Look! A jet-black loaf.”
Pulled by the sleeve, I saw a black banh mi on the tray. An explanation was written beneath the price tag. A banh mi made with squid ink-kneaded bread, filled with prawns, lettuce, and onion.
“Fancy it?”
“Hmm… I’ll pass this time.”
In the end, I bought a salmon and olive panini and a round loaf with walnuts and figs. Plus a carton of coffee milk, and a vegetable juice.
We split a freshly baked crescent-shaped croissant in half and ate it while walking.
Butter, generously kneaded into the flaky, fluffy pastry, seeped out, creating a deliciously satisfying, juicy flavour.
“This croissant is spot on…”
“Is there such a thing as a bad freshly baked croissant?”
“Probably not.”
How many times would we buy bread from that shop from now on?
Streets we couldn’t navigate without smartphone directions, novel shops and menus – they’d surely become part of our daily routine, buried beneath a lukewarm, ordinary existence.
Beyond the waterside park, round the corner, lay the new home I’d seen countless times in photos.
A compact two-storey, two-bedroom house, a 2LDK. No garden, no parking space. I was a driver on paper only anyway, with no plans to buy a car.
This is our new home. Mine and Ibara’s.
“Right, I’m going in…”
“Shigure-san, I’m getting all flustered now.”
“I know.”
My heart pounding, I opened the front door.
A mudroom about half a tatami mat in size and a shoe cupboard. With only the natural light streaming in through the skylight, it was inevitably dim. I pressed the switch beside the entrance by reflex, then realised the electricity wasn’t connected.
“Excuse me.”
“Shigure-san. I’m home.”
“Er—no, that’s a bit premature…”
Until half a year ago, an elderly couple had lived in this house.
Due to health issues, they’d moved to the town where their son and his wife lived. Since then, Aki-san had occasionally looked after the place.
Thanks to that, the interior was spotless.
The living-dining area was more than spacious enough. The kitchen was open-plan, and the sink had been replaced courtesy of the owner (that is, Aki-san).
I felt the debt I was accumulating by borrowing more and more was growing enormously. If they ever demanded repayment, emptying my bank account wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
I climbed the spiral staircase. The second floor was divided into two rooms. The ‘2’ in the 2LDK layout. One was slightly larger. It must have been the couple’s bedroom.
“How shall we divide the rooms?”
“The bigger one could be the bedroom, and that one could be Shigure-san’s workroom, right?”
“Eh? But then, Ibara wouldn’t have a room to herself.”
I’d intended to work in the living room.
“It’s fine. I’m not really one for being alone anyway.”
Is that alright?
Hmm, well, it’ll do for now.
Both the (temporary) bedroom and (temporary) study had windows opening onto the balcony. Opening the crescent lock and stepping outside, a cool breeze blew.
“The balcony’s quite spacious, isn’t it?”
A rooftop balcony with more depth than it appeared from the outside.
The patches of square and round stains scattered across the wooden decking must be where something was grown in pots. Flowers, perhaps? Vegetables? Or maybe herbs.
Suddenly, something flashed through my mind.
Ibara’s family home. The beautiful herb garden that Nobara-san and Natori-san had cultivated and maintained.
I thought, someday, I’ll grow chamomile here.
Yes, someday.
Someday, when the gentle, calm days piled up, and the resentment and things she couldn’t swallow towards her parents gradually faded, completely weathered away.
A small, round table remained permanently set out on the balcony. A parting gift from the previous occupant, perhaps?
We decided to make grateful use of it. Taking bread from the eco-bag, we ate leaning against the railing – rather ill-mannered, perhaps. It felt somehow like being a student again.
“Shigure-san. How’s that salmon panini?”
“It’s delicious. It’s got cream cheese and fresh pepper inside. Want a bite?”
“Yes, please.”
The generously filled panini threatened to collapse if torn carelessly. When I offered the half-eaten end to her mouth, surprisingly, Ibara blushed.
She gave an ambiguous smile, “Ehehe,” and took a bite.
“How is it?”
“Delicious.”
So deliberately cute.
“Give me a bite of yours too.”
“Sure.”
The walnut and fig bread was delicious too. It had just the right amount of chewiness, and the flavour of the wheat spread with each bite.
Her fringe swaying in the rustling breeze, Ibara said.
“You know, I’d love to put a hammock here. We could nap together.”
“Would we fit?”
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
Leaning against the balcony railing, I imagined Ibara’s suggestion.
I pictured us on that short autumn afternoon, wrapped like a single cocoon, swaying together on the net.
“…That might be nice.”
“See?”
Ibara smiled, holding back her wind-tossed hair.
The tips of her long lashes reflected the light, gleaming white.
“This is a lovely house, isn’t it?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
I glanced at the bunch of keys resting on the round table.
Still bare, stripped of any decoration, the dimple keys.
I caught myself skipping a step in my thoughts, wondering what kind of keyring to attach.
Somehow, the option of not living here had vanished. I’d come here to decide that very thing.
—Ah well.
“I suppose we’ll move in summer.”
“Next week?”
It was certainly hot enough to feel like summer already.
“Just wait a little longer.”
The air I drew in felt humid.
Soon, summer would arrive on the calendar too. Surely, a summer hot enough to melt you away.