Page 54 of A Serving of Hope

“Koishi?” Nagare called toward the kitchen. “All done in there?”

Koishi stepped out, wiping her hands with a towel.

“He’d like to pay,” Nagare explained, now visibly frowning.

Koishi handed Masaru a slip of paper. “We let the client choose the fee, for both the meal and the detective services. Just send us whatever feels right.”

“Certainly,” he replied, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into his wallet. “This could be the start of something big for me. I’ll be sure to reward you generously for everything you’ve done.”

As he was making to leave, Nagare blocked his path, looked him in the eye, and said, “Mr. Suzuki.”

Masaru took a half step backward, alarm showing on his face. “Y-yes?”

“Do you remember what Kikuko asked for an extra helping of? At Satsukitei, I mean.”

“Yes. The shredded cabbage, you said.”

“That’s right. Plain old shredded cabbage. Now, why do you think she asked for a second portion of something so simple?”

Masaru gave him a puzzled look. “Well…because it was tasty?”

“Exactly. Because it was tasty. But do you know why it was so tasty?”

“This is starting to feel like one of those Zen riddles,” said Masaru impatiently. “Things are tasty because they’re tasty, aren’t they?”

“A few days before that trip to Satsukitei, Kikuko’s wisdom tooth swelled right up and she had it pulled,” explained Nagare, his gaze wandering off into the middle distance. “We chatted about it while we were enjoying the appetizers, and the maid happened to overhear. She said she’d ask the chef to make Kikuko’s dishes nice and soft so as not to bother the wound.”

Masaru’s eyes widened. “Even the cabbage?”

“Softening it up with a little salt, while keeping the crunch—that’s no easy feat. I think Kikuko was moved by how perfectly the chef pulled it off. Asking for seconds was her way of saying thank you. Your father picked up on that, which is why he dropped by our room in person. And that’s how we became friends.”

Masaru simply stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

“That’s what good food is about. Fancy ingredients and secret sauces might linger in the mind, but they’re not what touches your heart. What matters in this business is what you can really do for your customer—how you connect with them on a deep, emotional level. Yes, the kara-age you ate at Tori-dake tasted good. But that sensation didn’t come from your tongue or your stomach. It came from in here.” Nagare set a hand on his heart. His eyes seemed to have reddened slightly.

“One more thing,” he went on. “Keep in mind that zangi only came about because of the development of broiler chicken after the war. Suddenly, chicken was much easier to obtain, and people started racking their brains for tasty but inexpensive ways of cooking it. Zangi was the result. Back then, there were no nitpicking food critics, or fancy branded types of chicken. No special ingredients, no secret sauces—just simple, tasty food that everyone could enjoy.” Nagare let out a long sigh. “Times have certainly changed.”

“Thank you,” said Masaru, bowing deeply. “There I was, about to march off in completely the wrong direction. I’ll never forget what you’ve just told me.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Nagare, his expression softening.

Koishi slid open the door. “It’s cold outside, so take care. And if you see your parents, please give them my best.”

“I will,” said Masaru, his lips pressed together resolutely. “And I’ll be sure to tell them what you taught me today too.”

As he stepped outside, a tabby cat sauntered over. Masaru crouched down to stroke its head. “Is this your cat?”

Koishi squatted at his side. “Not really ours, per se. But we have given him a name: Drowsy. Mainly because he spends most of his life sleeping.”

“Drowsy, eh?” said Masaru, slowly getting to his feet. “Must be nice. Napping all day. Never wondering about whether he’s winning or losing.”

“Mr. Suzuki, life isn’t a game of baseball,” said Nagare. “The score isn’t that easy to read. If anything, it’s an endless series of tiny victories and tiny defeats—and there’s no telling which is coming for you next.”

Masaru nodded in agreement, bowed, and set off west down Shomen-dori. The cat went padding after him.

“Don’t go too far, Drowsy,” called Koishi. “You’ll get lost.” Drowsy responded by plopping himself down on the spot.

They watched Masaru disappear down the street, then stepped back inside.