For anyone used to big city aquariums like Osaka’s Kaiyukan, as Kikue and her ex were, the Tegarayama aquarium was utterly unspectacular, yet there were several displays that left them baffled. The one that particularly floored them both was the Specimen Corner. There was the exhibit labeled DECAPITATED GREAT SALAMANDER, which, true to its description, was a great headless salamander in formaldehyde. This was displayed alongside the CANNIBALIZED GREAT SALAMANDER, with half of its body eaten away. The panel under the latter read as follows:
In 1996, one of our great salamanders, 35 cm in length, was eaten by another large salamander, 117 cm, in the tank and then regurgitated.
When they stepped away from the Specimen Corner, Kikue’s ex said with a stunned expression, “I feel like I’ve been permanently scarred.”
Kikue, who felt exactly the same, nodded gravely. The Petting Corner, where as a youngster she had touched starfish and various little fishes, now had a large pool containing sharks and flatfish. Several signposts warned WE CAN BITE! in red lettering.
Afterward, they visited the botanical gardens, which had an oddly extensive selection of insectivorous plants. The explanations accompanying the hand-drawn illustrations were unsettling. Kikue could remember being entranced by the shy plants they had there in her childhood, which would shrink from her touch by curling up their leaves. The botanical gardens were far more run-down and neglected than she recalled.
“Your hometown is kind of weird,” said her ex with a chuckle as they made their way back along the monorail tracks toward the station. Kikue agreed. It was as though the city channeled every last drop of its sublime energy into Himeji Castle. Accordingly, everywhere else was somehow a bit . . . off. Kikue was glad that she’d been able to share that weirdness with her ex, which she’d sensed since she was young. In the end, though, they remained apart, even though Osaka and Himeji weren’t really that far away from each other.
A woman entered, and Kikue bobbed her head in greeting. Realizing that the shop was deathly silent, she hurriedly pressed play on her iPod, and Blossom Dearie’s honeyed tones flooded out of the speakers. Kikue had discovered since opening her shop that the owner of a gift shop ended up playing “gift-shop music” without ever intending to.
With rough, careless movements, the woman picked up a wooden spoon and a couple of mugs and inspected them, then walked out of the shop. Kikue felt a pang in her chest. Although she had spent her time watching her mother at work, it was only now, when Kikue had a shop of her own, that she realized what a sociable person her mother was, how good she had been with the customers. Nowadays, Kikue’s mom spent her days absorbed in foreign TV drama series.
The truth was, Kikue still couldn’t get used to the fact that complete strangers could simply stroll in off the street to this sanctuary that she had created. Of course, she understood that that was the very definition of a shop. She knew she had to stand there with her heart wide open and declare, “Here you go! This is me! Come take a look, and then leave again whenever you like!” but she also knew it was going to take her some time before she could manage it. Come to think of it, there were plenty of people running cafés and bookshops on their own who were either downright unfriendly or just not very good at dealing with people. Kikue figured that they must have set up their own shops because they disliked working in offices with other people. It made perfect sense. Kikue didn’t think she’d fared too badly as a fully functioning member of society but she was, by nature, an introvert.
It was just beginning to get dark outside when the man entered. Kikue was crouched behind the counter, hiding herself away so as to drink tea from her stainless-steel flask. The flask had been advertised for its exceptional heat retention, and sure enough, the tea it stored was still steaming hot. Flustered by the arrival of a customer at such a moment, Kikue gulped down her tea and proceeded to choke violently. When she finally managed to collect herself and look up, she saw the man standing on the other side of the counter, peering down at her apologetically. Hurriedly, Kikue stood up.
“What can I do for you?” she said, her voice coming out hoarse and strange. “Sorry to give you a fright.” Saying this, the man handed her a thick paper bag. “I’m from the plate company. I’m really sorry about the missing plate. It was our mistake. Would you mind just checking if this is the right one?”
Opening the bag, Kikue took out the flat cardboard box. Inside the box was a plate with various animals and plants trailing around the rim. Kikue smiled happily.
“Yes, this is the one. I love these plates. They’re so pretty . . . but not too pretty, if you know what I mean.”
The man smiled. “I’m really glad you think so. I’ll pass your compliments on to the illustrator. I’m sure it’ll make her day. My apologies again. Oh, I should have introduced myself at the start, shouldn’t I? Anyway, thank you for doing business with us.”
The business card he handed her was emblazoned with a name she had seen often in her in-box. So, Kikue thought, this is the famous Yūta.
She looked straight at the man standing in front of her. With his checked shirt and navy trousers, he gave off a soft, gentle impression. His short hair was flecked with white. Having imagined him as excessively awful, Kikue was now somewhat flummoxed at finding him quite the opposite.
“Oh, no, thank you. It’s nice to meet you finally,” Kikue said. She opened the drawer and pulled out one of
