Page 29 of A Serving of Hope

Since their breakup, Toshio had been surprised to discover a serenity and peace of mind he hadn’t known in years. Gone was the constant anxiety of Sayo finding out—and he didn’t want it to ever come back.

“Here you are—one shogayaki set,” said Koishi in a playful tone as she set the dishes down.

“Yes, yes…” said Toshio, grinning as he took it all in. “This is just how it was. Even the plates look the same!”

“I was right, then,” said Nagare, arriving at the table. “Something told me she’d be using Bizen ware. It’s just around the corner from Mimasaka, isn’t it?”

“There’s more of everything, so just let us know if you want seconds,” added Koishi, and the pair retreated back into the kitchen.

In front of Toshio was a thick Bizen plate, heaped with pork and vegetables, a blue-and-white bowl containing a generous mound of white rice, and a lacquered bowl filled with fragrant miso soup, large cubes of tofu suspended just below the surface. There was also a small dish of pickles: what looked like chopped greens, cucumber, turnip, and shibazuke.

Toshio used his chopsticks to retrieve a sauce-glazed piece of pork, wrapped it in a piece of cabbage, and set it atop his rice. Then he brought it to his mouth and, as if descending into a dream, closed his eyes.

The pork was marbled with just the right amount of fat, and its rich flavor, combined with that of the sauce, was perfect with the white rice. When Miyuki made it, he’d enjoyed it with a glass of beer or sake. When he asked for seconds of just the pork with some rice on the side, she’d giggle at his childish tastes. The flavors were so similar he could almost hear her laughing now.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but the more he ate, the more his conviction deepened. Nagare must have met Miyuki and learned the recipe from her directly. Miyuki must still be in Mimasaka, running the café. A bittersweet emotion swept through him like some last echo of his youth, and a rueful smile appeared on his face.

As he crunched on the pickled cucumber, Toshio recalled the thrill of walking up those stairs to the apartment above the Hibiscus café.

But how had Nagare coaxed the recipe out of Miyuki? Had he mentioned Toshio’s name and told her he missed her cooking—or had he just gone to the café to try the dish himself, and figured out the recipe on his own?

If Nagare had spilled the beans, how had she felt? Had she wanted to see him again, or had she just been irritated? Toshio could barely contain the flurry of emotions in his chest.

As he was setting the final slice of pork on top of his rice, Nagare appeared from the kitchen.

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…identical. I can hardly believe it. How on earth did you pull this off?” Toshio was so eager to learn what had become of Miyuki that the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Before we get to that, can I bring you another helping?”

“Oh, all right. They say people my age should watch their calories, but…” Smiling bashfully, Toshio handed Nagare the empty Bizen plate.

“More rice too?”

“Half a bowl would be wonderful.”

Midway through his second portion, a vague unease began to creep over Toshio. What if he couldn’t resist the urge to see Miyuki again? Even if Sayo managed to recreate this very dish at home, in the end it was only a plate of food. It had taken him a year and a half to fill the aching gap in his heart, and now he’d torn it open again. He remembered Koishi worrying this would only make him miss Miyuki even more. She had been right.

As he set down his chopsticks, Nagare appeared at his side. “Guess it’s about time we told you how we managed this.”

“Some tea,” said Koishi, setting a Mashiko teapot and Karatsu teacup down on the table.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Nagare asked.

“Please do.”

Nagare perched on the folding chair opposite Toshio.

“You went all the way to Mimasaka on my behalf, then?” began Toshio, doing his best to sound calm.

“It was the only option, really.”

“Thanks for going to the trouble,” said Toshio, half rising from his seat to bow.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” interjected Koishi. “We stopped by Yunogo Onsen on the way. Made a proper little holiday out of it.”

Nagare shot her a look. “I thought we were going to spare him that detail.”