Chapter 1: Flowers, Sake, and Rivalry in Love

1

If you go west on Kitaoji Street and turn north onto Shimogamo Center Street, you’ll immediately see my school, Kyoto Prefectural University. With the Kyoto Concert Hall, the Kyoto Botanical Gardens, the Kyoto Prefectural Library and Archives, and Kitayama Street nearby, I’m proud to say that it’s a wonderful environment surrounded by art and greenery.

However, it was now late January. The trees on campus and along the streets were barren, and there was no lush environment to be seen.

As I walked down the hallway after class, I noticed that a window was open and found myself looking outside. A cold wind brushed my cheeks. I shivered and closed the window. It would continue to be this cold for another month and a half. This was my fourth winter in Kyoto, but I still couldn’t get used to it. The cold was unbearable, but at the same time, I quite liked winter fashion. When I was in high school, I could only protect myself with a cardigan under my blazer and a scarf, but now that I was in university, I could enjoy dressing up. I was wearing a scarf and mid-length coat over a knit top, shorts, colored tights, and short boots. Thanks to this, most of my part-time job earnings went to clothes and paying my parents for my phone bill.

I need to learn how to mix and match clothes so that I can save money for my trip with Holmes. I also need to lose some weight...

“Would you like to go on a trip together?”

His words replayed in my mind. I suddenly felt embarrassed and looked down. My cheeks were burning. They were probably as red as a boiled octopus.

No, apparently, I’m a dried squid, not an octopus...

I frowned as I recalled what Ensho had said. I knew that “dried squid” was supposed to be considered a compliment. It meant something that grew on you over time.

But why don’t I feel happy about it? Is it because Ensho said it? No, I’d feel the same way if it had been Holmes. If Holmes said to me, “Aoi, you’re like dried squid,” I wouldn’t be happy. My response would probably be something like, “Holmes, could you use a different expression?”

“Aoi? You’re Aoi, right?” came an unfamiliar voice from behind me.

Confused, I turned around and saw a stylish, nice-seeming young man running up to me.

“Oh, I knew it was you, Aoi. I was surprised by how mature you’ve become. It’s been a while.” He gave me a friendly smile.

“Oh.” I did recognize his face but that was all.

“I had no idea you went to our school. Did you come here because of Holmes?”

Apparently he knows Holmes too. Who is this?

I put on a vague smile as I scoured my memory.

“I heard that you’re going out with him now.”

He even knows that?!

I gave him a good look again. While his face looked familiar, I just couldn’t remember who he was. Is he someone I met at one of the Yagashira family’s parties? Or Yanagihara’s?

“Oh yeah, sorry that my brother’s always getting help from you guys,” he continued.

“Your brother?” I squeaked.

“Man, I never thought he’d get so famous. Maybe it’s because he became friends with Holmes. It seems like he’s getting a lot of advice from him.”

A famous brother who gets advice from Holmes...

I put a hand over my mouth, the dots finally connecting. “You’re...Haruhiko, right?”

“Oh, did you just realize that now? Yeah, it’s me, Haruhiko Kajiwara.”

“I’m so sorry.”

This was Akihito Kajiwara’s younger brother, Haruhiko. He was the youngest of three brothers, and I had met him at the mountain lodge in Kurama. Back then, he had mentioned that he was attending Kyoto Prefectural University.

But shouldn’t he have graduated by now?

“I’m in grad school,” he said, seeming to have guessed what I was thinking. “I wanted to move up to Kyoto U like Holmes did, but I wasn’t good enough.” He gave an awkward laugh.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

I had worked really hard to get into this school. I thought it was amazing that he could advance to grad school here.

Was he always such an attractive guy? I remember having a positive impression of him, but I also thought he was really plain. Maybe he felt inferior in the presence of Holmes and Akihito, who were exceptionally good-looking.

“Um, how is everyone doing?” I asked, thinking about their beautiful mother, the Kajiwara family secretary, Kurashina, and his oldest brother, Fuyuki.

“Everyone’s doing well, especially Akihito.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Akihito had been acting in a TV drama since last fall. It wasn’t the kind that aired at 9 or 10 p.m., or even at noon. It was one of those prime-time “ranger” shows that aired in 30-minute episodes at 6:30 p.m. It was so successful that a second season had been announced for this year.

As we were talking, my best friend, Kaori Miyashita, approached us, calling out, “Aoi!”

“Sorry for keeping you,” Haruhiko said, taking the hint. “I’m glad I got to meet you again. I’ll see you around.” He raised a hand and walked off.

“Oh, sure. Please give everyone my regards.” I bowed to him and turned to Kaori.

“Great, you didn’t leave yet,” Kaori said, gasping for breath and placing her hands on my shoulders. It seemed like she had run over in a hurry.

“Yeah, although I’m about to. Do you need me for something?”

“Uh-huh, but first, who was that? He’s pretty hot.” She looked at Haruhiko’s back as he walked away, her eyes sparkling.

“That’s Akihito’s younger brother.”

“No way! Akihito’s brother goes to our school?”

“Yeah, he said that he’s a grad student here. I honestly forgot that Akihito had a younger brother who went to KPU.” I laughed.

“He’s not the same type as Akihito, but he’s a good-looking guy, as you’d expect.”

“So, what did you need me for?”

“Oh right, do you have work today?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay if I’m a little late.”

Now that I’m in university, the manager has been very considerate of me. He said, “I want you to focus on your university life, so feel free to prioritize university events and spending time with your friends.”

“Great. So my club is going to be having an event...”

“Oh?”

“We still need to hash out the details, but the seniors were asking if we could get you again since you were such a great help during the Nakaragi Festival.”

“I didn’t do that much,” I said, shaking my head.

At KPU’s school festival last fall, I had helped out the Western-style flower arrangement club that Kaori belonged to. They had opened a Flower and Tea Shop, where the idea was to arrange plants to create a natural indoor space and serve various kinds of tea and scones. It was a lot of fun, and now the club was going to hold another event.

“They said if you’re busy with your part-time job, you can just help on the day before and the day of the event.”

“I think that’ll be okay. I really liked helping out during the festival, so I definitely want to join in again.”

“Great, I’m sure they’ll be excited,” Kaori said, smiling.

Kaori and I headed straight to the classroom the club used for its activities, since I was going to participate in their first meeting to plan the event.

“Sorry we’re almost late,” said Kaori after opening the sliding door.

The club members turned around and greeted us with smiles on their faces.

“It’s okay; we just got here too.”

“Hello again, Mashiro.”

“Thanks for inviting me back,” I said, bowing. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.”

“We really appreciate your help. Do you have work today?”

“Oh, I took the day off.” I had texted the manager earlier, and he’d given me the day off without a fuss.

The club consisted of five members including Kaori. They were all women, and the atmosphere was as peaceful as ever. I thought back to two months ago when Kaori had introduced me to them...

* * *

“Let me introduce you to the other members, Aoi. This is our president, Okubo. She’s a third-year,” Kaori said, starting with a woman whose hair was tied up in a ponytail.

“I’m Ikumi Okubo. I went to a private girls’ school in Kanto. I came here because I admired Kyoto and co-ed schools, but before I knew it, I had become the president of an all-girls club.” Okubo spoke in a crisp tone of voice and had a bright smile. She seemed really cheerful, which was perfect for someone in her position.

The woman next to Okubo didn’t wait for Kaori’s introduction before saying, “I’m Akari Meguro. I went to the same high school as Okubo, and I’m a third-year too. I’m basically the vice president.” She had long hair and spoke gently, giving off the vibe of a proper lady. She seemed kind and carefree.

“I’m Seiko Osaki, a second-year. I came from a private school in south Kyoto,” added a woman with a short bob cut.

A private school in south Kyoto? I wonder if it’s the same one Holmes went to, I thought as I bowed and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Keiko Shibuya,” said the last one, a slightly plump woman with wavy hair. “I’m a second-year and I came from Oki High.”

“Oh, I’m from Oki High too,” I said without thinking, placing a hand on my chest and stepping forward.

“I know.” She chuckled. “You said you went to high school with Miyashita. Nice to meet you.”

“Yes!”

They all seemed like nice people, which was a relief.

* * *

Okubo clapped her hands, bringing me back to the present. “Okay, have a seat, everyone. Let’s start the meeting.”

“Okay!” everyone shouted excitedly, taking their seats at the table. The exception was the vice president, Meguro, who stood next to Okubo.

I looked around at the club members. Okubo and Meguro were third-years, Osaki and Shibuya were second-years, and Kaori was the only first-year. Kaori had joined the club by herself because she liked flower arrangement, not caring that she didn’t know any of the others beforehand. I really admired that about her.

“On the day of Setsubun, a festival is held in the Demachiyanagi shopping street, officially known as the Demachi Masugata shopping street. We’re going to rent a section of the shop space and hold an exhibit. Since the Flower and Tea Shop at the Nakaragi Festival was a huge success, I think we should do another flower cafe. Does anyone have any ideas?” Okubo wrote “Demachi Masugata Shopping Street Festival Event” on the whiteboard and turned to look at us, her ponytail gently swaying. She was such an energetic person.

Kaori raised her hand and said hesitantly, “Um, if we’re going to open a cafe at an event like that, I think we might have to get an actual business permit for handling food. It’s not like the school festival...”

“It’s okay,” replied Okubo. “The place that’s renting to us is a cafe, so if we want to do that, they’ll supervise us. But they said it’s fine if we only want to do an exhibit without the cafe part.”

Everyone smiled in relief.

“So we’re free to plan any kind of event we want. Ideas?”

“Hmm.” Meguro pressed her finger to her cheek and looked up. “I don’t want to do the same thing as last time. There were areas for improvement then too.”

“Areas for improvement?” I tilted my head. The event had seemed fun and successful to me. Was there anything that could’ve been done better?

Kaori shrugged and said, “It was successful as a cafe, but people didn’t really look at the flower arrangements.”

“Oh, now that you mention it...” The customers had enjoyed the interior in general, but they hadn’t taken the time to look at each individual work.

Osaki sharply raised her hand and said, “In that case, how about we drop the cafe and just do an exhibit?”

Shibuya hummed. “I don’t think we’d get any visitors if we did that.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. I frowned as I jotted down their opinions.

Food shop or exhibit

We want people to look at the flower arrangements this time

People might not come if it’s only an exhibit

“Yeah, there’s no point if no one comes,” replied Kaori.

“If only there was a way to hold a cafe and still have people interested in the flowers,” Shibuya mused.

“This is tough,” I murmured.

How can we get people interested in the flower arrangements?

We continued to discuss it for a while, but since we couldn’t formulate a good plan, we decided that we would each come up with our own ideas before the next meeting and go from there.

2

If you take the Keihan Main Line to Chushojima Station or Fushimi-Momoyama Station and walk a little, you’ll come across Fushimi, a ward in Kyoto known for its sake. When most tourists hear “Fushimi,” they probably think of Fushimi Inari Shrine, but I’d like them to see the traditional atmosphere of the sake breweries too.

Fushimi has long been called Kyoto’s southern gate. In the Heian period, it was a scenic place where imperial and noble families had their second homes, and in the Azuchi-Momoyama period, Hideyoshi Toyotomi built Fushimi Castle and formed a large town around it. In the Edo period, Fushimi prospered as a gateway to the Yodo River, which facilitated water transport between Kyoto and Osaka, and in the Bakumatsu period, it set the stage for a new era of loyalist samurai, including Ryoma Sakamoto.

“It really is a dramatic place, now that I think about it,” Kiyotaka mused as he gazed at the streets of the brewery town. He was wearing dark-blue work clothes and a waist apron, sweeping the ground in front of the establishment.

The sun set early in January, so the western sky was already turning orange. The rows of old sake breweries had their lights on, making the scene even more picturesque at this time of day.

Fushimi had long been home to world-famous breweries such as Gekkeikan and Kizakura, but Kiyotaka was currently living at a very small one.

A woman opened the brewery’s sliding door from inside. She was wearing a happi coat that said “Kotani Brewery” on it. She was twenty-five, but perhaps because she was so short, she looked younger than that.

“Thank you for your hard work, Yagashira.”

“You too, Mizuki.” Kiyotaka stopped sweeping and gave her a smile. “I’ve finished the preparations.”

He turned around and looked up at the small shop next to the sake store. The sign said “Bar Konta,” and it had two foxes facing left and right.

Kotani Brewery had been a small brewery and liquor store for quite some time, and in the summer before last, they had renovated the neighboring warehouse into a bar. When it opened, they distributed free drink coupons and had moderate success, but after half a year, customer traffic had begun to slow down. They had been afraid that the business would continue to decline, so when the overseer had heard that Kura’s owner was looking for training locations for Kiyotaka, he had put in his request for a month at the beginning of the year, and Kiyotaka had accepted.

The manager of a sake brewery is called a “kuramoto” or “overseer,” rather than the modern term “owner.” Mizuki Kotani was the overseer’s daughter and an employee of the brewery.

She peeked into the bar and let out a goofy squeal, looking at the tables and floor, which had been polished to a shine.

“They’re sparkling,” she murmured. Then she shifted her gaze to the single-flower vase on the counter. “Oh, where did that camellia come from?”

“I added it. There was a lovely old Bizen vase in the overseer’s collection, so I borrowed it.”

“It is lovely. That collection isn’t dad’s; it was my late grandpa’s. He liked antiques, which is why he was a regular customer at Kura.”

“Yes, so I heard.”

Mizuki’s late grandfather, Takahiro, was a friend of Kiyotaka’s grandfather, Seiji Yagashira, and one of Kura’s customers. After his death, their families had continued to keep in touch. The new overseer, Takao, looked up to Seiji as a father figure and asked him for advice on various things.

“I never thought one of our unused treasures could shine like this.” Mizuki folded her arms and stared admiringly at the vase.

The bar interior consisted of a counter and four small tables. It looked small, but it could fit twenty people. The name “Konta” was a play on “Kotani” and “kon kon,” the sound made by foxes. Foxes were a symbol of Inari shrines such as Fushimi Inari, and to match the name, the bar’s coasters and chopstick holders had cute fox designs.

“These are really cute,” Kiyotaka said, picking up a chopstick holder and smiling. “Are they handmade?”

“Yep, I made them.”

“You did?” He looked at Mizuki, impressed.

“I like handicrafts, and the interior design was my idea too. My brother’s a top-notch craftsman but he doesn’t know anything about this stuff.”

Mizuki’s older brother entered the bar through the back door as they were talking. He came out to the storefront, surprised that the kitchen sink was so polished he could see his face in it.

“Hello, Kota,” Kiyotaka greeted him, bowing.

Kota was the brewery’s “sanyaku.” Sake breweries had several positions, headed by the overseer. At Kotani, there were the following:

Toji: the chief sake brewer. Here, the overseer (kuramoto) was also the toji.

Sanyaku: a middle-management position under the toji. Kota filled this role.

Kurodo: workers who followed the direction of the toji and sanyaku.

Meshitaki: young apprentices who took care of miscellaneous chores such as cleaning and cooking.

Kotani Brewery had two kurodo working under Kota.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” he said succinctly with a light bow. The man was almost thirty. He was very tall and wore a white hand towel around his head. He seemed blunt and unfriendly at first—the type of person who was often misunderstood—but Kiyotaka perceived him as a nice person who was simply socially awkward.

“I’m just doing my job,” Kiyotaka answered, having mainly been doing odd jobs during his stay.

“Sorry about this. I can’t believe we’re making the Yagashira family’s son do chores at our tiny brewery.”

“Yeah, you’re the prince of the antique community,” added Mizuki. “You deserve better than this.”

Kiyotaka held up a hand and shrugged. “I’m really not that important.”

“And the rumors were right that you’re a competent worker,” she continued. “You’re like the embodiment of the idea that even chores can become impressive work when they’re done perfectly.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Kiyotaka said with a smile.

“By the way, Yagashira...” Kota looked at him expressionlessly.

“Yes?”

“My sister wants to ask you something.”

Mizuki looked up at Kota, startled. “Hey, stop that. I was just curious. I didn’t really want to ask him.”

“What is it?” Kiyotaka tilted his head.

“Go on.” Kota lightly tapped his sister on the back.

“Jeez,” Mizuki said weakly. “Um, Yagashira...do you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes, I do,” he answered immediately with a smile.

“Of course you do.” She laughed and hit Kota on the back a few times. “See, I told you. There’s no way he wouldn’t.” Then she looked at Kiyotaka and said, “I’m really sorry about this. The other day, I was saying to my brother, ‘Yagashira’s such a great guy. He really is like a prince, so he must have a girlfriend already.’ That’s all it was, so don’t worry about it.”

“I see. Thank you for the compliment.”

“Sorry again. Oh, right, I came to get you because dinner’s ready.”

“Much appreciated. I just happened to be getting hungry.”

Kiyotaka and Mizuki left the bar and went into the neighboring sake store, heading for the break room in the back. The two kurodo were already eating. Like Kiyotaka, they were live-in workers.

“Thanks for your hard work, Yagashira,” one of them said. “Please excuse us for starting first.”

“Don’t worry about it, and same to you,” said Kiyotaka, sitting down at the table.

One of the workers was a man in his mid-thirties named Hisashi Kanda. His short hair was speckled with gray strands, making him appear old for his age. The other worker was a twenty-three-year-old man named Kippei Ueno. He had a baby face that made him seem younger.

The two of them had originally been training at a brewery in the Kanto region called Ishiguro, but when the overseer there passed away due to illness, the business had been forced to close down. Since Ishiguro had been on good terms with Kotani Brewery, the workers had been transferred here. At the time, Kotani’s existing kurodo had all been over sixty years old, so they retired after about a year. As a result, the average age of Kotani Brewery’s workers had decreased sharply in recent years. Others in the community were concerned about them at times, but the business had become more proactive about trying new things. Opening a bar had been part of that initiative.

When Kanda and Ueno had arrived and the veterans were still around—in other words, when Kotani was sufficiently staffed—Kota had studied to become a chef and obtained his license. He had always liked cooking and had been interested in pursuing that path.

However, the one in charge of cooking for the brewery workers was Mizuki. On the table was pork fried with ginger, potato salad, pickled vegetables, and miso soup.

“These are all my favorites,” Kiyotaka said happily, clapping his hands together. “Thank you for the food.”

“You said that yesterday too,” Mizuki replied with a laugh, filling a bowl with rice for him. “You sure are a flatterer.”

“Last night it was mackerel cooked in miso, which really is another favorite of mine. Thank you for always providing such delicious meals.”

“And thank you for the thanks. That goes for everyone.” She looked at Kanda and Ueno and bowed.

Kanda, who was the devoted craftsman type, nodded without making eye contact. Perhaps he was embarrassed. The young Ueno, however, smiled cheerfully and said, “You too.”

“You’ve been here for a week now, Yagashira,” said Mizuki. “Have you gotten used to life here yet? It must be hard to wake up so early in the morning.”

“It’s hard, but I’m enjoying working here.”

It was true; sake breweries started work early. At Kotani, the day began at 5:30 a.m. before the sun even rose. Since sake was made in the cold, there wasn’t any heating in the cellar. The workers had to operate in the freezing cold. At first, Kiyotaka had been worried about that. But as it turned out, they had to prepare the steamed rice, carry the cooled rice to the fermenting room, put the fermented rice from two days earlier on the trays, and perform the transfer process on the trays from the day before to complete the fermentation—all by 7 a.m. Since there was so much moving around, he didn’t feel as cold as he had expected. The furnace was lit at around 6:30 a.m., and it took about fifty minutes for the rice to steam, during which time they had breakfast. After that, there was a mountain of work to be done until evening.

“It must be hard for you too, having to prepare meals on top of working at the store,” he continued.

“My brother helps me with the prep work, and working at the store is nothing compared to what everyone else is doing. Besides, I’m used to it. It’s been more than ten years since mother passed away...”

She looked at the top of the tea cabinet, where there was a family photo. In it, her father, Takao Kotani, was wearing a suit, and her mother was wearing a yellow and light blue kimono. Kota had been in elementary school at the time, and Mizuki, wearing a short-sleeved dress, had been around five years old. It was probably the last photo they had taken together.

“But you know, even though there are a lot of female brewers these days, our brewery is still male-only. It’s so behind the times. Why are women considered unclean just because of our monthly cycle? It’s the twenty-first century!” She pouted.

Kiyotaka smiled gently and said, “Well, despite what excuses people give, men are always soft on women. Brewing sake is heavy labor, and if they didn’t have a ban on women, they’d have to push that hard work onto you. Perhaps turning it into a male-only sanctuary was in your best interest.”

Mizuki burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good way of thinking about it.”

“Yes. There was also the opinion that having women in the workplace would give the men inappropriate thoughts. In the end, men are idiots.”

“It feels strange hearing you say that men are idiots.” She giggled.

Kiyotaka put down his chopsticks and clapped his hands together again. “Thank you for the meal.”

“I’m really sorry that we have to ask you to help with the bar after this too.”

Kiyotaka typically only worked at the brewery, but on Fridays and Saturdays, he also helped out at the bar—but only until 10 p.m. to avoid overloading his schedule.

“I enjoy working at the bar too, and I get paid for it, so it’s fine.”

“Yeah, but we don’t really want to have you stand at the counter too much. It’d be okay if you were staying here forever, but I think the customers will be disappointed when you’re gone.” She sighed.

Takao, the overseer, came in and said, “In that case, we just need to have him stay forever. Kiyotaka, what do you think of my daughter?” He placed a hand on Mizuki’s shoulder. The man was in his fifties and resembled his daughter with his round face and sunny disposition.

Mizuki groaned and facepalmed. “First Kota, now you. Could you stop making things awkward for Yagashira?”

“How about it? Our Mizuki’s a pretty nice girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is,” agreed Kiyotaka.

Mizuki wasn’t necessarily a beauty, but she was charming and sweet. The two other workers frowned uncomfortably at this exchange. Apparently, they were interested in her.

“I’m honored, but I’m already dating someone,” he continued.

“Oh, I know that. A handsome guy like you must have a girlfriend or two.”

“Er, no, I only have one.”

“Relationships before marriage don’t mean anything.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“Well, yeah. Marriage is a contract, so it’s a sure thing. Compared to that, there’s nothing set in stone when you’re just dating. It’s still undecided.”

Undecided... Kiyotaka frowned and crossed his arms.

“Leave him alone, dad,” said Mizuki, hurriedly putting everyone’s empty dishes on a tray and escaping to the kitchen. “I really hate this.”

“Ha ha, she’s embarrassed,” laughed Takao.

“Really?” Kiyotaka tilted his head.

“Oh right, Kiyotaka, there’s something I want you to look at while you’re here. I’ve been meaning to ask Seiji about it. Do you mind?” He excitedly placed a wooden box on the table.

“I’d love to.”

Kiyotaka took his white gloves out of his pocket and put them on.

“You keep those on you even when you’re wearing work clothes, huh?” Takao murmured, impressed.

“What’s that?” Kanda and Ueno looked their way.

Kiyotaka opened the lid and took out a ceramic sake bottle. It was white with a red and green pattern on it.

“This is Kiyomizu ware,” he said, smiling happily. “This dignified form, smooth and extravagant hand-painting technique, and beautifully elegant style of red painting that originated in China—there is no doubt that this is the work of Eisen Okuda.”

“Who’s that?” asked Ueno, who had taken an interest in the conversation.

“Ninsei Nonomura and Kenzan Ogata are the most famous Kyoto potters, but there was a second golden age after them in the Bakumatsu period. Potters such as Eisen Okuda, Mokubei Aoki, Dohachi Nin’ami, and Hozen Eiraku came onto the scene and created brilliant works of art.”

The workers nodded silently.

“Oh, good,” Takao said happily, placing a hand on his chest. “It didn’t have the ‘Ei’ signature, so I thought it might be fake.”

“Most of Eisen’s works are unsigned,” Kiyotaka explained. “Many counterfeiters do include the signature, though, either because they don’t know that or because they think the signature makes it easier to fool people.”

Takao, Kanda, and Ueno all seemed impressed.

“Hey, Yagashira, how much is that worth?” Ueno asked nonchalantly with a smile.

Kiyotaka looked at Takao. “May I answer that?”

The overseer nodded.

“Well,” the young appraiser looked down at the bottle. “As it is, I’d say it’s about eight hundred thousand yen. With a nicer box, it would be worth a million.”

The box had clearly been made at a later time.

“Eight hundred thousand?!”

Everyone’s eyes widened in shock. They weren’t accustomed to the prices of antiques.

“Would you like to sell it to us?” Kiyotaka asked.

“No.” Takao shook his head. “I inherited this from the previous chief brewer when I took over, and I’m going to do the same with it. I’ll give it to Mizuki’s future husband,” he said, gazing lovingly at the sake bottle.

“I see.” Kiyotaka smiled.

3

When we left the school building after the club meeting, it was almost six in the evening. The January sky was already pitch black.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, waving to Kaori.

As I walked to the bicycle parking area, I took out my phone, wondering if things were all right at Kura. The manager was the type of person who couldn’t stay in one place for long, so I was afraid he might be feeling uncomfortable.

I sent him a message saying, “Thank you for giving me the day off on such short notice. Is everything okay at the store?”

He replied, “Thanks for the concern. Rikyu came to help today, so there’s no need to worry.”

That was a relief. Ever since Holmes had left for training, Rikyu had been helping at the shop more often. Perhaps his schedule had more leeway now that he was done with his university entrance exams. His first choice was the Kyoto Institute of Technology, a national university in Sakyo-ku. It was fairly close to where I lived.

KIT was the alma mater of Rikyu’s mother, Yoshie. She was originally from Kamakura, and she had gone to KIT out of admiration for the city of Kyoto and a desire to obtain a first-class architect license. I had heard that the school focused more on that architect license than its name suggested, and many of its students passed the exam. After graduating, Yoshie had gone on to work for an architectural design firm in the city. Then, after marrying and divorcing Sakyo, she had started her own business. She had also started an art-related business alongside that, because she was—in her own words—an art geek. That was how she had met the owner.

Rikyu also wanted to pursue a first-class architect license. Even though the real test was yet to come, he had said that his “success was assured.”

Relieved by the manager’s reply, I messaged my mother “I’m going to do some shopping before going home,” got on my bike, and left the campus. As I exited the gate, I saw the club’s vice president, Meguro, walking hand-in-hand with a man. I couldn’t tell what he looked like because I was looking from behind, but they seemed like a happy couple, so I couldn’t help but smile.

I headed down Shimogamo Center Street and turned east onto Kitaoji Street. Upon arriving at the supermarket near Shimogamo Main Street, I got off my bike and went inside. On days when I didn’t have work, I took the initiative to make dinner.

“What should I make today?” I murmured quietly as I pushed the shopping cart, looking at the ingredients.

The yellowtail looked fresh, so I grabbed that, mushrooms, and broccoli. I’m pretty sure we still have carrots and onions at home, I thought, counting on my fingers.

“Okay, that settles today’s menu.”

I nodded, paid at the register, and left.

I began pedaling my bicycle, which was now deep red with a wicker basket. This cute bike had become my treasure after Holmes had given it a makeover for Christmas.

“I’m back,” I said, popping into the living room with my shopping bag in hand.

“Welcome back,” said my mother and grandmother, who were sitting on the couch.

“I’ll make dinner now.” I put on my apron and washed my hands in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to push yourself. You just got home from school,” my mother said in an apologetic tone.

“It’s okay.” I shook my head. “I’m not pushing myself.”

It had all begun with me wanting to attend cooking class but not having the time or money to do so. I figured it would be more practical and reasonable to cook at home and ask my mother or grandmother if I ran into something I didn’t know. That said, I had only been making simple things based on recipes I found online. Today’s dinner was going to be yellowtail fried with garlic mayo, onion soup, and warm vegetable salad.

I went over the instructions in my head:

Sprinkle sake over the yellowtail and let it sit for about five minutes, then wipe it dry with a paper towel and coat it with potato starch.

Put mayonnaise in a frying pan, and when it melts, add the yellowtail and cook on both sides. Season with soy sauce, sake, mirin, garlic paste, and sugar, then sprinkle chopped scallions on top.

While the yellowtail was soaking up the sake, I got started on the onion soup. I put bacon and three large slices of onion in the pressure cooker, added enough water to cover them, poured in a suitable amount of consommé, and then turned on the heat. For the salad, I simply steamed broccoli, carrots, and cabbage in the microwave and then garnished them with cherry tomatoes. I didn’t have any special techniques, but my family was always happy no matter what I cooked, and for that I was grateful.

“Whoa! It’s really good, sis!” exclaimed my younger brother, Mutsuki. He was always the first to react.

“He’s right,” said my mother. “It smells and tastes great.”

“Yes, and the yellowtail is so flaky,” said my grandmother.

“Yes...”

The final “yes” came from my father, who simply murmured the word and nodded. He didn’t openly praise me, but I could tell from his face that he was enjoying it.

“Thanks. I’ll make something a little more complicated next time if I have time.”

I took a bite of the fried fish and closed my eyes. It really is good, if I do say so myself.

“I appreciate that you went to do the grocery shopping after school and made dinner for us, but you don’t have to push yourself,” said my mother again. “You really have changed, huh?” She put a hand on her cheek, sounding pensive.

“I think so too,” my brother agreed. “It’s the Holmes effect.”

“She’s training to be a wife,” said my grandmother.

I blushed, not knowing what to say.

My father cleared his throat and frowned, prompting the rest of my family to look at each other and shrug, thinking, Here we go again. Whenever we talked about Holmes, it always seemed like my father didn’t want to hear about him. He didn’t complain, though. He probably wasn’t opposed to our relationship, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You guys are always jumping ahead,” I said.

My father nodded earnestly. His reaction was so funny that I couldn’t help but laugh.

4

Kiyotaka was behind the counter at Bar Konta, preparing appetizers. There were five customers present: Kanda and Ueno from the brewery and three men who were regulars there.

Kota gave the workers an apologetic look. “You guys are too considerate. You can go to another restaurant, you know?”

The two men shook their heads.

“We’re not here because of that,” Ueno cheerfully replied. “Your food really does taste good.”

“Yeah, if I’m gonna drink somewhere outside, it’s here,” Kanda said curtly, eating his oden.

The regular customers looked up at Kota and nodded.

“As you’d expect from a bar run by a brewery, the alcohol is great and the menu is top-notch.”

Oden, shirako tempura, braised pork belly, stewed beef tendon, skewers, mackerel cooked in miso, simmered squid—Kota was a skilled chef, and all of the dishes went well with sake.

“It’s kind of you to say that, but...” Kota sighed and lowered his gaze.

Kiyotaka, who was standing next to him, glanced at the man and asked, “Is something on your mind?”

“Yeah. It’s been half a year since we opened, and the only visitors we get are a handful of regulars. Most of them come after 8 p.m., so business is slow until then.” Kota looked back up and stared at Kiyotaka. “Is there anything you’ve noticed after a week of observation, Yagashira? I want to get an outside perspective.”

Kiyotaka looked around the restaurant. “Well, the interior is clean and has a cute design. It has a nice atmosphere, and the food and drinks are delicious, but it’s lacking a sense of unity.”

“Unity?”

Everyone blinked in confusion.

“Yes, Bar Konta has a very cute atmosphere with the fox designs on the front sign, coasters, and chopstick holders, but the menu is full of bitter foods geared towards men who like to drink. It just doesn’t match up.”

“Are you saying that I should change the menu?” Kota asked with a conflicted look on his face.

The customers didn’t seem pleased with that idea.

“No, as you can see, the regulars are attached to the current menu. How about keeping these items and adding a few more, if possible? I can suggest a menu that would attract female customers from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m.”

“What would that be?”

“Something with an element of surprise or something mismatched. For example, sake also goes well with carpaccio, cheese, and creamy dishes, so even vanilla ice cream might work.”

“Vanilla?” Kota’s eyes widened.

“Yes, and since you’re already focusing on the fox imagery, I’d definitely suggest adding inari sushi to the menu. It’s also important to have dishes that make people want to take pictures and post them on social media—in other words, a bit of an artistic touch may help. Even something as simple as putting up a sign that says ‘Female customers welcome!’ should make a difference. If you do that, you might be able to attract more customers before 8 p.m.”

Everyone nodded firmly.

“No wonder they call you the Holmes of Kyoto. I’d expect no less from the young master of the Yagashira family.” Kota looked at Kiyotaka, seeming genuinely impressed.

“Could you please stop calling me ‘young master’?”

“I’m going to get started on a menu for women right away. It’d be nice if I could get some feedback on it...”

“Oh, in that case, should I call my friends from university? If I ask around, I’m sure someone will be willing to come right now.” Kiyotaka took his phone out of his pocket.

“I guess that’s what it’s like when you’re a ladies’ man,” Ueno teased.

“They’re just friends,” Kiyotaka replied with a laugh.

“I appreciate the help, but why aren’t you inviting your girlfriend?” Kota asked, looking at him curiously.

“She’s still underage, so she can’t drink alcohol.”

“Wait, underage?” Everyone’s eyes widened in shock.

“Isn’t that...a problem?” Kota asked with a serious face.

Kiyotaka held up a hand and said, “Please don’t get the wrong idea. She’s nineteen and she’ll be turning twenty soon.”

Everyone laughed. “You don’t have to panic like that.”

“People keep treating me like a lolicon,” he explained with a light shrug. “Anyway, I’ll ask around.” He looked down at his phone and messaged several of his female friends from university.

5

After dinner, I holed myself up in my room to study. At the same time, I opened my laptop and tried to think of ideas for the club event.

“If we want people to see the flowers, we need to get them to come inside the store first. In that case, a cafe is still a good idea. We could make latte art of flowers... No, I guess that’s not the same as having them see real flowers,” I mumbled as I searched the internet. “I just can’t think of anything.”

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10:40 p.m. Holmes was working at the bar run by the brewery today, and I had heard that his shift ended at 10 p.m.

It should be over by now, right? I want to get his advice on the cafe.

I messaged him, “Can I call you?”

My phone immediately rang, making me flinch in surprise. The call was from Holmes. I couldn’t help but laugh at how fast he’d responded.

I picked up the call and said, “Yes, it’s me.”

“Good evening, Aoi.”

There was some background noise on the other end of the phone, and I could tell that he was in the process of walking somewhere.

“Are you still at work?” I asked.

“My shift is over, but I stayed at the bar because a friend from university came to visit today.”

“Sorry to bother you when you’re busy.”

“It’s fine. Do you need my help with something?”

Holmes is as perceptive as ever. All I did was ask if I could call him, and he immediately realized I wanted help.

“It’s not important, so it can wait until tomorrow...”

“No, don’t worry about it. You can ask me now.” His end of the call became quiet as he said that. Apparently, he had gone outside.

I began to explain that I was going to be helping Kaori’s flower arranging club with another event.

“So we discussed ways to get people to see the flowers, but none of them felt right. We decided that we would each come up with an idea before the next meeting, but I can’t think of anything good.” I sighed and looked down.

“I see,” he murmured. “Speaking of flowers, do you remember when we went to Nijo Castle and there was a flower and calligraphy exhibit in the garden?”

“Yes,” I looked back up, “of course I do. It had poems accompanied by flower arrangements, and it was really nice—oh!” I put a hand over my mouth. “You’re right. Poetry and flowers make a great combination. Since the club does Western-style flower arrangements, we can use bold and expressive presentations to get people to see the work.”

“Yes, I agree.”

We could use flowers to express poetry—people who like poems might also be interested in flowers. Putting together the exhibit might take a lot of work, but it’s guaranteed to be interesting for the viewers.

“Thanks, Holmes. I was stuck because I couldn’t think of any good ideas.” I placed a hand on my chest, relieved.

“No need to thank me; I just happened to remember that. I’m glad if I was able to help.”

“Yes, you were a great help.”

Holmes really has a solution for everything. This reminds me of the time he gave the manager a hint by showing him a painting of the Holy Kannon.

“How are things going, by the way?” I asked. “Is working at a brewery hard?”

“It certainly is a lot of work, but I’m enjoying it. The overseer, Takao, is a very nice person. His son, Kota, is honest and kind too.”

“That’s good.” I smiled.

Holmes was undergoing training in Fushimi. Even though it was his closest placement yet, I hadn’t been able to see him at all because of his busy schedule. At this point, the physical distance between us didn’t even matter.

Then I heard a woman’s voice coming from his end.

“Wow, Holmes really is on the phone with his girlfriend!”

“Is there a problem with that?” he replied in the Kyoto accent he used with all of his classmates.

“I just can’t believe it. You of all people?”

“I get that a lot. But I’m still on the phone with her, so go back inside.”

“Okaaay.”

“Sorry, Aoi,” he said after shooing his friend away.

“It’s okay.” I shook my head. “Sorry to bother you when you’re busy. I’m sure your friend is waiting for you, so I’ll hang up now. Thanks for the advice, and good night,” I blurted out quickly before hanging up.

“Ugh, I wonder if I sounded weird just now,” I said, slumping over my desk.

I was surprised because I hadn’t expected his visitor to be a woman, but there was actually something else that had been bothering me for a long time now. It felt like it had suddenly been brought to the forefront.

“But it still wasn’t right to hang up on him like that,” I mumbled, feeling depressed.

Suddenly, my phone rang again. It was Holmes.

I hurriedly answered the call. “H-Hello?”

“U-Um, Aoi, are you upset by any chance? The friend visiting me is a woman, but she really is just a friend, and there’s never been anything between us. The bar is offering a menu targeted at women today, so I asked her to come and give us feedback...but I should’ve informed you that I was doing that, right? I’m really sorry,” he said quickly.

His voice was squeaky, and I could tell that he was flustered. I imagined what he must’ve looked like and felt the uncertainty clouding my heart clear up a little.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you in a weird way. I was surprised that your friend was a woman, but also...it reminded me of what I thought when your university friends came to the store in the past. You seem more relaxed with your female friends than you do with me,” I murmured quietly.

“Huh? What makes you think that?” He sounded genuinely confused, which puzzled me in turn.

“I mean, you talk to your female friends in a casual Kyoto accent, don’t you? But you still use formal speech with me.”

“Oh, is that all it was?” he said in a relieved Kyoto accent. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“It matters to me...”

“My apologies,” he said, returning to formalities. “To me, speaking formally doesn’t mean I don’t feel relaxed. Ever since I was little, I always spoke this way with my father and grandfather—in other words, my own family.”

“Now that you mention it...”

“But I got teased when I talked to my classmates like this, so when I was with my school friends, I used the same language they did. That’s why I still have a habit of speaking casually with school friends and people who are the same age as me.”

Right, Holmes even uses formal language with his own family. But it does make sense that he would get tired of being teased for it at school.

I felt like I could understand how he came to use different speech at school and at home.

“Both my family and school were part of my life, so both speaking styles come naturally to me. I think the fact that my Kyoto accent comes out when I’m emotional is a remnant of my childhood. Believe it or not, I got into fights with my classmates when I was a child.”

Holmes was surprisingly competitive, so he must’ve had some fights with his friends at school. Since he used his Kyoto accent during those, his Kyoto accent came out when his emotions were running high.

“So that’s why.”

“But now that I think about it, only using one or the other feels unnatural to me. When I’m talking to you, I think it feels most natural to speak formally as a base and occasionally bring out the Kyoto accent.”

As he spoke, I felt the lump in my throat melt away.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for getting upset over something so trivial and hanging up on you.”

I was probably on edge because we couldn’t see each other as often as we used to. Even though I pretended to be fine on the outside, the loneliness had been building up.

I should’ve just asked him about it, I thought, hanging my head in self-loathing.

“No, I’m happy that you did,” he replied. “You normally maintain a calm face all the time. It’s only me who’s flipping between hope and fear.”

What? That’s not true at all. Just as I was about to say so...

“I can’t wait to see you again, Aoi,” he whispered in a Kyoto accent.

I almost stopped breathing. “I want to see you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I miss you so much that you’ve been appearing in my dreams lately,” I admitted shyly.

Holmes went silent.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, confused.

“You’re always so unfair. You can’t just say that. I’m appearing in your dreams? That’s so dangerous.”

“Dangerous? They’re not weird dreams, you know? They’re normal things like working at Kura together.”

“I did assume as much, but now I have to know—what are these ‘weird dreams’ you’re referring to, Aoi?” he asked, suddenly switching to his “wicked” mode.

I was lost for words.

After a moment of silence, he chuckled and said, “Sorry about that. It’s an honor to be able to appear in your dreams. Thank you.”

“It’s not something to thank me for. Do I appear in your dreams, Holmes?”

“Yes, all the time.”

“All the time...”

“Yes, it’s so normal for you to appear in my dreams that I was surprised you’d ask that question.”

I was so happy to hear that that I couldn’t help but want to know more. “What kinds of dreams are they?”

“I’d rather not tell you, if possible.”

“Huh?”

“When people are asleep, their dreams are under the jurisdiction of their fantasies.”

“Jurisdiction of their fantasies?”

“Oh, I should get going now.”

“Okay, good night, Holmes.”

“Good night, Aoi,” he said, ending the call.

I put down my phone and smiled. “I’m glad I told him what was bothering me.”

But...

“Jurisdiction of their fantasies?”

After a while, I realized what that was a polite euphemism for. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, I slumped over my desk again.

6

The second club meeting was held shortly after. This time, instead of a formal meeting, we discussed our ideas while doing club activities—that is, flower arranging. Since I was still a beginner, Okubo taught me the basics again.

I clumsily stuck the flowers into the water-retaining foam, which was called Oasis. Previously, Okubo had told me that the difference between Japanese and Western flower arranging was that Japanese ikebana was displayed in alcoves while Western flower arrangements were displayed at party venues. She had also said, “Although Western flower arranging has fundamentals and set forms, in my opinion, it has more freedom than ikebana.”

In front of me was a short vase with an Oasis protruding slightly out of it. Today, we were doing a basic “round arrangement.” Basically, the finished piece was supposed to form a dome-like shape. First, we drew a crosshair on the Oasis. Then, we inserted one flower in the center and one on each side to create the foundation. From there, we added more flowers and greenery to give it volume. It was easy to get overwhelmed when taking the final color composition into consideration, but it was pretty fun.

“So, did you all think of something?” Okubo asked as she put together her own arrangement. Hers used tall flowers in a narrow vase.

“Our suggestion is to hold the cafe and exhibit together like last time,” said Osaki, who had paired up with the other second-year student, Shibuya. “We need to get people to come in the first place.”

“But we couldn’t think of a way to get them to look at the flower arrangements,” added Shibuya.

The two second-years were arranging flowers in wicker baskets.

“What about the first-years, then?” asked Okubo, looking at the notebook next to me. “It looks like Mashiro wrote down a lot of notes.”

I had been focusing on the flower arrangement, so the sudden attention startled me. “Oh, yes. In the past, there was an ikebana exhibition in Nijo Castle’s garden where they matched poems to the flowers. It was really pretty, so I thought it’d be nice if we could do the same thing,” I said, holding back my nervousness.

“Ooh,” they murmured.

“So basically, we would each choose a poem we like, create an arrangement to match it, and display them together, right?” Okubo asked, seeming slightly intrigued.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“That sounds great!” Meguro clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling.

“What about you, Miyashita?” Okubo continued, looking at Kaori, who was arranging white flowers in a glass vase.

Kaori flinched and said hesitantly, “To be honest, I asked my family about it even though I really shouldn’t have...”

Everyone silently waited for her next words.

“And then my mother said, ‘You can put up one of our best kimono with the flowers,’ so my idea is a kimono and flower exhibit. Sorry for being so business-minded.” She gave a light bow.

“That’s a good idea, though,” said Okubo, folding her arms. “It matches the poetry idea.”

“Hey, in that case, why don’t we go all the way with the Japanese aesthetic?” said Meguro, clapping her hands again. “Last time, we served black tea, but this time, we can use matcha. It’ll be a flower, poetry, and matcha cafe.”

“Yes, that would give it a good sense of unity,” replied Okubo. “Who agrees with that plan?” She surveyed the room. Everyone raised their hands in approval.

“What was your idea, Okubo?” asked Meguro, glancing at the club president.

Okubo scratched her head sheepishly and said, “Mine was to hold the cafe and put up descriptions of the flower arrangements so that people would look at them, but after hearing the poetry idea, I think that one’s the best.”

“That’s good, then.”

“Yep. Also, I have an announcement to make,” she added, straightening her back.

Everyone looked at her, wondering what it could be.

“I’ll be quitting the club after this event. It’ll be my last memory here, so I’m going to give it my all. Let’s make this a success,” she said with a smile.

Everyone’s eyes widened in shock.

“Huh? How come?” asked Meguro, who seemed to be the most surprised of all. “Why are you suddenly quitting?”

“Sorry, Meguro. I’m going to be busy with something, and I have to go job hunting too.”

“Can’t that wait until fourth year?”

“But when you’re retiring from a club, it should be after a big event, right?” Okubo smiled, looking at the rest of us for confirmation. None of us knew what to say, so we awkwardly smiled back. “Aw, don’t make those faces. I’ll still drop by to say hi. More importantly, we have to work on the event, all right?”

“Okay,” we said, caving in to her cheerful words.

After Okubo, Osaki, and Shibuya left the classroom, Kaori and I finished our flower arrangements and started cleaning up. My completed arrangement consisted of bright colors, mainly yellow and orange. The dome shape had come out nicer than expected, so as a beginner, I was very proud of it.

As I was putting the flowers into a paper bag, I glanced at the windows. Meguro was gazing outside, perfectly still. She seemed to be quite shocked that Okubo was quitting.

“Meguro, we’re leaving now,” said Kaori.

“What should I do?” the vice president murmured, looking down.

“Meguro?” I asked. Is she okay? I peered into her face and saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“What if Okubo doesn’t like me anymore? Is that why she decided to quit?”

“That’s not possible,” Kaori said, smiling to reassure the girl.

Meguro kept her head down. “Don’t you think it’s strange that she announced it to everyone without telling me anything? We’ve been running this club together all this time. I wish she would’ve talked to me beforehand.” She bit her lower lip.

Her reasoning did make sense. “Maybe she didn’t tell you because she thought you’d object,” I said quietly.

The girl fell silent. After some time, she raised her head and looked at us and said, “Um, if you get a chance, could you please find out why Okubo suddenly decided to quit?”

“Huh?” Kaori and I responded in unison.

“I can’t help but worry about it. If the problem is me, I don’t think she’ll answer me even if I ask her directly.”

“Yeah, but...” Kaori sounded hesitant.

“You two are younger and not directly involved, so she might tell you the truth, don’t you think? Please,” she begged us, teary-eyed.

Kaori and I looked at each other and gave her a reluctant “Sure...”

“I said we went to the same high school, but we’ve actually been together since middle school. It was a combined private school.”

“Since middle school?” That’s a long time, I thought, surprised.

“I was going to continue on to the school’s university division, but Okubo said she was going to Kyoto Prefectural, so I decided to go here too and join the same club as her. We’ve been together for a really long time, so when she suddenly said she was quitting, I thought she might not like me anymore,” she continued, her shoulders trembling.

I finally understood why she felt so strongly about it. Based on their friendship, this shouldn’t have happened.

“I’m sorry for this weird request, but please help me.” She bowed deeply. Seeing our senior lower her head to us like that, we couldn’t possibly refuse.

After the vice president left the room, Kaori heaved a sigh and scratched her head. “I’ve always thought that Meguro reminds me of my sister.”

“Oh, Saori...”

Kaori’s older sister, Saori, was a former Saio-dai. She’d been gifted with both intelligence and beauty and had a gentle, relaxed demeanor. Indeed, she was a similar type of person to Meguro.

“If you ask me, I don’t think Okubo dislikes Meguro. I think she’s trying to do something about the fact that they’re too dependent on each other,” Kaori said, putting her hands on her hips.

I gave a vague nod. “Maybe...but is that really all it is?” I murmured quietly, looking up at the sunset.

7

When Holmes called me that night, I told him about what had happened.

“She probably has a guilty conscience,” he said without hesitation. He had understood everything from that simple explanation and offered his opinion.

I, however, couldn’t keep up with his sharp mind. “What do you mean?”

“Meguro feels guilty about something, which is why she can’t ask Okubo herself. She asked you and Kaori to find out in her stead, but I suspect that she knows better than anyone else what the reason was,” he answered smoothly.

“But if she knew, she wouldn’t need to ask us in the first place.”

“She asked you because she doesn’t want it to be true.”

“Oh,” I replied weakly. I sympathized with that feeling because I used to be the same way. Back when I heard the rumor that my ex and my best friend had started going out, I’d wanted to rush back because I didn’t want it to be true. I’d been hoping it was some kind of misunderstanding. “So Meguro is curious because of her guilty conscience.”

Since they’ve been best friends since middle school, they must’ve gone through a lot over the years. It wouldn’t be surprising if Meguro sometimes thought, “Didn’t I do something terrible back then?” But since her best friend would smile and let things slide, she must’ve been relieved, thinking that she’d been forgiven. And now, all of her past guilt has suddenly come back to haunt her. I lowered my gaze, feeling bitter.

“Aoi, this isn’t something for you to worry about. It’s between Meguro and Okubo. Okubo has probably found her own answer, which is why she announced her resignation without telling Meguro anything beforehand. I’m sure her desire to make the event a success is real, so please do your best to turn it into a wonderful memory.”

Holmes is right. The best thing for me to do in this situation is try my best to make the event a success.

I thanked him and ended the call.

8

After talking to Aoi on the phone outside, Kiyotaka put his phone in his pocket and gazed at the night sky. The faintly lit row of breweries under the stars made for a lovely ambience, and the cool air felt nice. As he was stretching, Kota peeked out from the bar and beckoned to him. The bar had already closed for the night and was being cleaned up.

Kiyotaka bowed lightly and went inside, where Mizuki was sitting at the counter.

“I’ve come up with a new menu for women, so I want you to taste test it,” Kota said, going behind the counter.

Mizuki tapped the seat beside her and said, “You can sit next to me, Yagashira.”

“All right.”

As Kiyotaka sat down, Kota picked up a light blue bottle and showed it to him. “We have a type of sake that’s as easy to drink as wine. I thought of some dishes to pair with it that would appeal to women, like you said. First is sea bream carpaccio...although I only made a sample-sized portion.” He placed the sake and carpaccio in front of the two taste testers.

“Thank you for the food,” Kiyotaka said, clapping his hands together. He took a sip of the sake and ate the fish. “It goes well with this smooth sake. I like it.”

“Yeah,” Mizuki agreed.

“Next is baked oysters with cheese. I also made fried tomato and avocado with cheese and basil sauce.”

The oysters were presented as shells filled with oyster gratin, baked to perfection. The fried tomato and avocado were skewered bite-size pieces covered in green basil sauce.

“Both of these are delicious,” said Kiyotaka.

“Yeah, they’re definitely good,” said Mizuki, joining him in relishing the food. “I can never beat you when it comes to cooking no matter how hard I try. You’re just like mother. Dad said he married her because she won his stomach over.” She placed a hand on her cheek as she spoke.

Kota smiled gently and said, “Your cooking is good too, Mizuki. You’re ready to become a bride.”

“There you go again, trying to marry me off. Gimme a break. You’re the last person I want to hear that from.” She angrily looked away.

Kota shrugged and continued with the menu. “This is Bar Konta’s special miniature inari sushi. I call it the Foxtail.”

The inari sushi came in bite-size pieces reminiscent of a fox’s tail.

“Oh, you made it,” remarked Kiyotaka. “I love inari sushi.”

Mizuki had been sulking, but the sight of the young man happily eating the sushi made her burst out laughing. “You really do seem to enjoy everything.”

“Yes, because they’re truly delicious,” replied Kiyotaka.

“Thanks,” said Kota, bowing shyly. “By the way, did you know that there’s a correct order to drink sake in?” he asked cheerfully. He wasn’t usually this talkative, but perhaps he was in a good mood today.

“According to my grandfather, ‘Drink the good sake first because you’ll be drunk later.’”

Kota laughed and nodded. “Yeah, he’s not wrong. It’s generally said that it’s best to start with light flavors and gradually raise the intensity. You should start with daiginjo or sparkling sake, then move on to ginjo or honjozo. After that comes junmai ginjo, junmai, and yamahai or kimoto. Aged sake comes last.”

“I see. Going from light to strong flavors is the same way that sushi is eaten.”

“Yeah,” Mizuki said with a laugh.

After that, Kota continued to bring out dishes that would go well with sake and appeal to women. The last item was bite-sized cheesecake.

“Besides vanilla ice cream, I heard that sake also goes well with cheesecake, so I tried making a small one.”

“It really does,” said Mizuki, holding a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe it.”

Kiyotaka had a pensive look on his face as he ate the cake.

“Do you think it doesn’t work?” Kota asked anxiously.

“No, it goes well with the sake and it tastes good. I was just thinking that having cheesecake here suddenly makes it feel like a cafe in a way that vanilla ice cream wouldn’t. It might be even better if you give it a twist.”

“A twist?”

“Yes, for example—”

As they were talking, Takao came into the bar and said, “Kiyotaka, do you have a minute?”

Kiyotaka furrowed his brow slightly at the serious look on the supervisor’s face. “Yes,” he said, standing up.

They went into the back room and Takao checked to make sure no one else was around.

“Did something happen?” Kiyotaka asked.

“I’m in trouble,” Takao whispered in a low voice. He presented an empty wooden box. “It’s gone, Kiyotaka. The Eisen Okuda sake bottle is missing.”

“What?” Kiyotaka blinked.

“It might’ve been stolen.” The man’s face was pale.

Kiyotaka looked at the empty box again. No one had paid any attention to the Kotani family’s sake bottle before—not until they had discovered that it was worth eight hundred thousand yen. He had also told them that the box didn’t have much value.

“Where did you store it after my appraisal?”

“After that, I put it back on the shelf in my room right away. It’s always been there. What should I do?” Takao looked down at the box.

“Do you want me to question the others?”

“No, we don’t know for sure yet that it’s been stolen, and I don’t want to act like I’m suspecting our workers.”

“But you do suspect them, don’t you?”

Takao looked down weakly.

“Why don’t you at least ask Mizuki about it? She might’ve taken it out for one reason or another.”

“That’s what I thought at first, so I did ask her, but she said she didn’t know. So I looked all around the house but couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“In that case, may I see your room first?”

“Yes, it’s this way.”

He led him to a Japanese-style room right above the sake store. The shelves were adorned with his predecessor’s collection of vases and tea bowls. All of them were good pieces in their own way.

The entrance to the room was an ordinary sliding door without a lock.

“Anyone could enter this room if they wanted to,” remarked Kiyotaka.

“Yeah.” Takao nodded with a grimace.

“Where did you put the sake bottle?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing at the top of the shelf in the alcove. “I kept it there inside the box.”

Kiyotaka put on his gloves and examined the shelf and floor.

“Like you said, I think one of our guys did it, but I don’t want to make a scene. If it becomes public knowledge, we won’t be able to work together anymore. I’m sure someone just caved to temptation,” Takao added with downcast eyes.

“You’re very lenient.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. And besides, I’m not that anxious about it.”

“Why not?”

“Unlike other things, that was an antique. If they resell it, the Yagashira family’s network will be able to find out where it was sold to right away.”

“That’s true...” Kiyotaka looked down at the floor. “I understand. I agree that it’s better not to make a scene. Let’s wait and see what happens for now. Like you said, if the thief puts it up for sale, we’ll be able to find it quickly using my grandfather’s network. It’s also possible that the bottle will quietly return on its own.”

“You think they’ll have a change of heart?” Takao looked at him expectantly.

“Not quite.” Kiyotaka gave a small sigh and muttered, “When it comes back, its value may have changed...”

9

Meanwhile, I had no idea that Holmes had also encountered trouble on his end. The next day, during lunch break, Kaori and I went to find Okubo, hoping to probe for an answer while asking questions about the event. We had heard that she often tended the flower beds on campus during this time, and sure enough, she was watering them with a hose.

“Okubo,” we called out.

“Oh,” she said, turning off the water and looking at us. “Hello, Miyashita, Mashiro.”

“Shibuya told us that you often water the flowers at this time of day, and you really are here,” said Kaori.

“Yes.” The club president looked around at the flowers. “At first I did it because a teacher asked me to, but now I take the initiative to do it. I secretly think of them as my own flower beds.” She laughed mischievously. I could tell that she loved plants from the bottom of her heart.

“Did you choose KPU because it’s close to the botanical gardens?” I asked.

Okubo sheepishly scratched her head and said, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag. Yeah, that’s exactly why. I told my parents that there was a program I wanted to participate in at KPU, but my main reason for coming here was because I was impressed by the city and the gardens when I came for sightseeing. And KPU is right next door, you know?”

“So that’s why. Did Meguro follow you to KPU because she admired you?” I asked casually.

“No.” Okubo shook her head. “I invited her. I was like, ‘Do you want to come with me?’ She was surprised, but she said, ‘I love Kyoto, so if you’re going, I will too.’”

I was so sure that Meguro followed her here because she didn’t want to be separated from her, but apparently it was Okubo’s suggestion.

Slightly surprised, I continued my line of questioning. “Did you and Meguro start the club yourselves?”

“No, it existed beforehand. When I was a first-year, most of the members were third-years, so they’ve all graduated.”

“I see.”

“Okubo, what’s the real reason why you’re suddenly quitting? Meguro was really shocked,” Kaori asked, startling me by getting straight to the point. She’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Yeah, she would be,” Okubo replied with a strained smile. Based on her reaction, she had made her decision knowing that Meguro would be shocked by it.

“Do you think it’s time for you guys to move on from being joined at the hip?” Kaori pressed her.

Okubo looked up at the sky. “It’s true that I can’t keep playing around now that my third year’s almost over, but I guess that’s part of it too.” Her mouth was smiling but her eyes were sad.

I could understand why she’d try to distance herself from her best friend. They’d been so close to each other that they could’ve been considered dependent on each other. But there had to have been a catalyst that spurred her to take action, and Meguro wanted to know what that catalyst was. In fact, she probably already had an idea. Something she felt guilty about that would make Okubo dislike her...

“So what did you need from me?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Oh, um, one of my friends is part of the Japanese sweets club. I mentioned that we were going to hold a flower, poetry, and matcha cafe in the Demachiyanagi shopping street, and she asked if we could serve her club’s sweets there. Here’s their flyer,” I said, taking out the flyer I’d received from the club.

Okubo’s eyes lit up. “Sure, that’s a great idea. We do need sweets to go with the tea, and I’d love to collaborate with them. I’m sure they know more about sweets that go with matcha than I do. Can I leave them to you? I’ll be consulting with the shop.”

“Okay, I’ll handle the discussions with the Japanese sweets club, then.” I nodded and jotted down a memo in my notebook.

“You’re really reliable, Mashiro. Is it because you’ve been working for a long time?”

I blushed. “No, I’m really not.”

“You don’t have to be humble. I think you’ll make a great employee in the future. I can see you as an excellent secretary.”

“No, not at all...”

I wasn’t being humble. I had seen from up close what a truly excellent person was like. I’ll never reach that level no matter how hard I try. I smiled stiffly as I thought of Holmes.

“Anyway, sorry to bring this up again, but my mom asked if it’d be okay to put a Miyashita Fabrics flyer next to the kimono,” Kaori said apologetically, showing Okubo the flyer.

“It’s fine,” Okubo replied with a nonchalant laugh. “I’m sure some of the visitors will be getting ready for their coming-of-age ceremonies.”

Relieved, Kaori placed a hand on her chest. “Thank you very much.”

“This event is going to be a lot of fun,” Okubo said with a cheerful smile.

“Yeah.” We nodded.

With the outline of the event decided, there was only one problem left: I had to create a display piece too. In other words, I had to choose a poem and arrange flowers to match. What poem would be good?

After class, I went to Kura for my shift.

“Aoi, is something the matter?” the manager asked nervously. He had been working on his manuscript at the counter. His tone of voice was so similar to Holmes’s that hearing it while lost in thought made my heart skip a beat.

“Huh?” I looked at him.

The manager pointed between his eyebrows. “You’ve had wrinkles here for a while now.”

I guess I’d been making a stern face while I was cleaning.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something.” I hurriedly smoothed out the wrinkles with my finger.

“Is something troubling you?” he asked with a concerned look in his eyes.

“No.” I shook my head. “I was thinking about what to make for a club event.”

“Oh, yes. If I recall correctly, you said you were helping Kaori’s flower arranging club.”

“Yes. We’re going to have an exhibit where we display flower arrangements that correspond to poems, and I don’t know what kind of poem would be good.”

“That sounds tough. Are you writing the poems yourselves?”

“No, we’re using texts by famous poets.”

“I see. We have a lot of poetry collections on the bookshelf, so feel free to look at them,” he suggested with a gentle smile, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you.” I went to the bookshelf with my feather duster. I hope I can find a poem that perfectly fits my current feelings...

“It’s not like you to make that expression, so I thought there might’ve been something bothering you.” He seemed relieved.

I shrugged and forced a smile. It was true that I had been thinking about Meguro and Okubo as well. The manager wasn’t as perceptive as Holmes, but he was sensitive to people’s emotions. Maybe he can understand the subtleties of Meguro and Okubo’s feelings.

“There was actually a bit of drama between the senior members of the club.” I told him that the president had suddenly quit, her best friend since middle school thought it could be her fault, and that I had been asked to find out why.

“I see. That sounds like it could be a problem driven by illicit love.”

“Huh?” I squeaked. I had not been expecting those provocative words from the calm and elegant manager’s mouth. “Illicit...love?” I blinked, thinking I’d misheard.

“Sorry for the crude phrasing. They’re young women, so I think the issue might involve a man...”

I gave a vague nod and suddenly remembered that Meguro had been walking hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. How long have they been going out?

“When two friends are close, they develop the same taste in men, and then it becomes hard for them to get along,” he murmured as he wrote.

“It’s sad, but it might be true.”

“Are you all right, Aoi?”

“Huh?”

“Do you and Kaori have similar tastes in men?” he asked awkwardly. His question made me realize that he still thought I might be the troubled one. He was considering the possibility that Kaori had fallen in love with Holmes.

“No, I don’t think I have to worry about that. According to her, Holmes is ‘one step away from being physiologically unacceptable.’”

The manager’s eyes widened in shock. “One step away from being physiologically unacceptable?”

“Yes. Holmes is too perceptive, and even though he’s black-hearted, he seems like a great person at first glance. She can’t help but think of him as suspicious.”

His eyes widened further and then he burst out laughing. “I’m amazed—by Kaori and by you.”

“Huh? Why me?”

“I’m sure if Kiyotaka were here, he’d say, ‘You’re too cruel, Aoi.’”

Huh? I blinked.

The manager continued to chuckle as if he couldn’t stop. “I always thought that the person who became his girlfriend would only love him for his appearance. I never thought that someone like you would appear in his life. He’s a lucky man.”

“That’s not true,” I said, averting my gaze. It felt like he was exaggerating quite a lot.

10

If the manager was right about this incident stemming from “illicit love,” then it would be natural to think that Meguro’s boyfriend was the cause. Perhaps Meguro was worried that Okubo liked him too.

As I was looking for books in the school library, I ran into the second-years, Osaki and Shibuya.

“Oh!” we all said.

“Are you looking for poetry books too, Mashiro?” asked Shibuya.

“Yes, I found this one.” I showed them the cover of the poetry collection I’d picked up. It had easier-to-understand explanations than the books in Kura.

“I’ll go with this,” said Osaki, taking a copy of Ogura Hyakunin Isshu from the shelf.

Shibuya looked at the bookshelf and groaned. “There’s too much to choose from. Maybe Akiko Yosano would be good.”

“She wrote a lot of passionate love poems, didn’t she? You have a boyfriend, so that’s nice. I’m jealous.” Osaki pouted and glanced at her friend.

“We’re not the kind of couple that people envy. We’re both chubby, so we make fun of ourselves by saying we’re a fat couple,” Shibuya replied with a weak smile.

“What’s with that heartwarming, super friendly dynamic? Now I’m even more jealous.”

“Nah, you should be jealous of Meguro and her boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s really cool. He’s in grad school, right?”

“Yeah, he’s such a great guy. I think she said his name was Kajiwara.”

Could it be? “Are you talking about Haruhiko Kajiwara, by any chance?” I asked.

“I think that was his name.” Shibuya nodded.

Meguro’s boyfriend is Akihito’s younger brother. What a small world. “Um, when did they start going out?”

They looked at each other.

“When was it?” asked Osaki.

“I think she said it was before Christmas,” said Shibuya, folding her arms.

Osaki clapped her hands. “Right, they met at a Christmas party.”

“Huh?” Shibuya tilted her head. “Did they? I heard that he was Okubo’s friend, so I thought Okubo introduced them to each other.”

“Yeah, Okubo and Kajiwara were friends who took care of the flower beds together, but Meguro met him at the Christmas party. She said she really put herself out there since she’d always had a crush on him.”

As I listened to them talk, I felt like I had grasped the situation, though I couldn’t be certain yet. Haruhiko, who they described as “a great guy,” was originally a close friend of Okubo’s. Meguro secretly had a crush on him, and when they met at the Christmas party, she proactively pursued him, and they started dating. About a month later, Okubo announced that she was quitting the club without saying anything to Meguro beforehand.

I think we have a clear answer now, don’t we?

I parted ways with the second-years and left the library.

“Oh, it’s Aoi.”

Speak of the devil. Haruhiko Kajiwara was standing in the hallway, smiling and holding a book. I gulped.

“What a coincidence,” he continued. “Were you borrowing a book?”

“Oh, yes. Did you come to return one?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “Come to think of it, Holmes is training at Kotani Brewery right now, isn’t he?”

“I’m surprised you knew.”

“I heard it from Ijuin when he came to our house the other day. My late father liked Kotani’s sake. I think he originally found out about them through Seiji Yagashira.”

Kyoto’s web of connections would never cease to amaze me. Ijuin was the manager’s pen name.

“I wonder how Kota’s doing,” he murmured with a nostalgic air.

Holmes had told me about the people working at the brewery, so I knew who Kota was even though we hadn’t met.

“You know the family too, huh?” I remarked.

“I only know Kota. He used to deliver sake to us.”

“Oh, I see.” That makes sense.

“Sometimes my dad would force him to drink, and then my brother would have to send him home.” He chuckled.

I silently nodded.

“There was something else that left an impression on me too. I’m only going to say this because it happened five years ago, but it seemed like he was having an affair.”

“A-An affair?” I blinked.

“It’s only a maybe. One time when Kota was drunk, he cried and said he was in pain because he fell in love with someone he wasn’t allowed to. My dad warned him that cheating could mean risking his life.”

I fell silent. I guess no one has it easy. Holmes had said that Kota was honest and kind. Someone like him would surely torment himself if he had an affair.

Haruhiko seems to have a pretty loose tongue. Maybe I can get some information out of him.

“I’ve actually been helping the flower arranging club, so I know Meguro. You’re going out with her, right?” I asked, boldly broaching the subject.

Haruhiko’s face turned bright red. “Yeah, we are. Man, now I’m embarrassed.”

“I heard that you were also good friends with her best friend, Okubo.”

He suddenly grimaced. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be talking to her anymore.” He looked a bit angry, which surprised me.

“Why not?”

“When I told her that I was going out with Meguro, she bad-mouthed her. She was like, ‘I honestly can’t recommend her. Aren’t there better people out there?’ I couldn’t believe it because I thought they were best friends. Oh, but I didn’t tell my girlfriend about it since it’d hurt her feelings. Keep this between us, all right?” Apparently he was capable of keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I nodded and let out a small sigh. Well, that settles it.

After class, when Kaori and I were alone in the clubroom, I told her what I had heard at the library.

“So in the end, Okubo had a crush on Meguro’s boyfriend,” she immediately concluded.

“Okay, so it’s not just me.” I sighed. “But I’m sure Meguro is hoping that’s not the case.”

“Really?” Kaori frowned slightly.

“You don’t think so?”

“I think she already had a vague idea of what was going on, but we won’t know unless we ask her. Anyway, did you choose a poem?”

“Yeah, I managed to find one that was perfect for me.”

“That’s nice. I haven’t been able to find the right one,” she lamented, slumping her shoulders.

If she’s struggling this much with it, maybe she’s in love too?

“What happened with Kohinata?” I asked.

At the beginning of the year, I had gone to a casual New Year’s party with Holmes, Kaori, and Holmes’s friend, Kohinata, who was interested in Kaori. We had gone to a Chinese restaurant and eaten delicious food from a revolving tray. It had been a fun, peaceful dinner. After that, it seemed like Kohinata had asked for Kaori’s contact information and she had given it to him.

“He messages me sometimes and I reply, but nothing’s come of it. He’s a smart guy so I like talking to him, and he’s decent as a friend, but I don’t like him that way.”

That’s too bad. “Is there someone else you like?”

Kaori blushed slightly and said, “I don’t know if I like him, but there’s someone I’m interested in.”

“I see,” I said with a happy smile. “If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.”

“Thanks. I like that about you, Aoi.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You can tell how I feel, so you don’t try to pry more than necessary.”

“That goes for you too.”

“Nah, I’m pretty nosy, so when there’s something I want to know, I can’t help but ask.”

“No, you say things bluntly, but you do know when to take a hint. Oh, but if there’s anything you want to ask me, feel free.”

“Really? There’s something I’ve always been wondering.”

“Huh? What is it?” I asked anxiously.

“Holmes still scares me, but I know that he’s charming. I can understand why you were attracted to him.”

I nodded.

“But what about your previous boyfriend?! Every time I hear about your ex, I think, ‘Why were you going out with someone like that?’”

She really does say things bluntly. “That’s a good question,” I said with a chuckle. “In our third year of middle school, he confessed to me before the school trip in front of everyone in the class.”

“What?!”

“Back then, I mistook it for manliness...”

“Oh...well, you were still in middle school, after all.”

“Yeah. It was the first time someone had ever confessed their feelings to me, so I was really happy. When I look back on it now, I realize that we were both still kids.”

“But that confession was kind of cowardly. It’s hard to reject someone when they ask you out in front of everyone.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

As we were talking, the classroom door opened and Meguro came in.

“Miyashita, Mashiro,” she greeted us.

“Hello, Meguro,” I replied.

“Hi. About what I asked you to do...” She walked up to us with nervousness and anticipation in her eyes.

“After asking around, we think it might have to do with you getting a boyfriend,” Kaori said, getting straight to the point. I was again surprised by how forward she was being.

Meguro looked down weakly and said, “Is that really it? Did Okubo like Kajiwara?” Judging from how she called him by his surname, their relationship probably hadn’t progressed very far.

“Did you notice?” I asked quietly.

“Well, he was originally a good friend of Okubo’s, and when I saw them from afar, I thought they made a good match. But whenever I asked Okubo if she liked him, she always said, ‘No, he’s just a friend. I don’t love him.’ At first I thought she was just too shy to admit it.” Meguro stood by the window and gazed into the distance. “At some point, I fell in love with him too, so I kept checking with her. If she liked him then I’d back off. But her answer never changed, so I made up my mind and asked, ‘Does that mean I can fall in love with him, then?’ I said it jokingly, of course. And Okubo laughed and said, ‘You’re free to do whatever you want. Go ahead.’” She let out a long sigh.

As I listened to her story, I found myself sympathizing with her. A little while after they had started dating, Okubo had announced that she was quitting the club. It was only natural that Meguro would wonder if Okubo had been lying the entire time—if she had liked him all along.

“Also, after I started going out with Kajiwara, it seemed like he and Okubo became more distant. Okubo probably stopped hanging out with him out of consideration for me, and Kajiwara said to me, ‘Maybe you should stop being so buddy-buddy with her.’ I wonder if something happened between them...”

Haruhiko was probably warning her because of Okubo’s bad-mouthing. But what were Okubo’s real intentions? If she had kept her feelings to herself out of consideration for Meguro, would she have distanced herself like this? The only reason I can think of is...

“What if Okubo didn’t realize she was in love until you started going out with him?”

“That’s possible,” said Kaori.

“Do you think so? She wasn’t lying and stepping back for my sake, she simply didn’t realize her feelings until later?” Meguro murmured, furrowing her brow.

“I think that could be it,” replied Kaori. “If that’s the case, it’s not your fault. It’s not Okubo’s fault either, of course. Isn’t that why she wanted to distance herself?”

Meguro nodded with a bitter expression on her face. “Yeah... I’ve been with Okubo for a long time, and I believed that we’d always be together, but now that it’s come to this, maybe it’s time to move on,” she said as if trying to persuade herself. Then she looked at us and said, “Thanks, and sorry for the weird request. If Okubo wasn’t backing off for my sake, then I can feel a bit better. But thinking about her feelings still makes my heart ache...”

We didn’t know what to say in response to her listless smile, nor did we have any idea that Okubo had been listening to our conversation outside the classroom.

11

It was the day before the Demachi Masugata shopping street festival.

“Tomorrow’s the day, huh? Do your best,” Holmes said cheerfully from the other end of the phone.

“Thanks. It was already a lot of work today, though.” I shrugged.

“Oh, did you arrange the flowers today?”

“Yes,” I said, impressed that he knew. Today, we had gone to the cafe to create the flower arrangements and set up the exhibit.

“Can you show me what you made?” he asked. He wouldn’t be able to come to the event because of work.

“I’ll show you the picture tomorrow. That’s when the exhibit is, after all.”

“What?” he replied in a disappointed voice.

I giggled. “Oh, right, I wanted to show you Okubo’s work. I’ll send it now.”

“All right. But still...” He sighed. “I’m surprised that Akihito’s younger brother, Haruhiko, is Meguro’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah. They say it’s a small world, but Kyoto is especially small.”

“So what did Okubo make?”

“I just sent it. When I saw her flowers and poem, I understood how she really felt.”

Okubo’s piece was made up of light purple flowers called misebaya, or the October Daphne. They were connected by the stems, forming the shape of a necklace. The poem she had chosen was:

“I wish to show you, for even the sleeves of the fishermen of Ojima, battered by the waves, do not change color.” — Inbumon’in no Taifu

It was a sorrowful poem that meant, “I wish to show you my kimono sleeve, which has changed color from the bitter tears I shed thinking about you. Even the sleeves of the fishermen of Matsushima’s Ojima Island do not change color when wet by the waves.” The first part, “I wish to show you,” was read as “misebaya”—matching the flowers Okubo had used.

“Okubo really is suffering from her love...” So much that her sleeve would change color from her tears. “Meguro went pale when she read the poem. It was hard for her to stomach.”

I heaved a sigh, but Holmes said nothing.

“Holmes?”

“The poem doesn’t match the flowers.”

“Huh?”

“Aoi, it’s possible that...”

His words made my eyes widen in disbelief.

12

The next day was the day of the event. We were to arrive early in the morning to get ready. As I entered the Demachi Masugata shopping street, I saw that it was decorated with colorful banners and triangular flags. This arcade was smaller than the one at Teramachi-Sanjo, so it had a more local feel to it. As usual, the large welcome signs and the chalkboards with cute drawings on them filled me with energy. Since it was a Setsubun festival, the street was lined with stalls and there were large oni masks.

In our space, one corner was dedicated to benches covered with red cloth, displaying a vermilion umbrella and a dazzling furisode kimono from Miyashita Kimono Fabrics. Our flower arrangements were lined up on a long table along the wall covered in a black tablecloth. The flower-shaped desserts made by the Japanese sweets club had arrived, so we put a sign out front that said “Flower, Poetry, and Matcha Cafe” and opened up the shop. Our friends and acquaintances stopped by as well as shoppers visiting the arcade.

“It’s so nice that you matched the arrangements to poems,” said one visitor.

“They go perfectly with the poems,” said another.

I was glad that the theme of the exhibit got them to look more closely at the works. One of the second-years, Osaki, had chosen a poem by Shikibu Izumi:

“Lost in thought, I cannot but look at the sky, though my beloved shall not come falling from the heavens.”

Osaki had said that she didn’t have a boyfriend, but there must’ve been someone she liked. Her arrangement used tall flowers that looked like they were reaching for the sky.

The other second-year, Shibuya, who did have a boyfriend, had followed her plan of choosing a poem by Akiko Yosano:

“I long for you when I sleep and when I wake, when I comb my raven hair, when I gaze at the handle of my writing brush.”

It was a passionate love poem that you wouldn’t expect from a heartwarming couple. She had used flowers with deep colors such as red and purple to create an impactful arrangement. When her boyfriend came, he started out with a relaxed laugh, saying, “I don’t know much about flowers or poetry, but it’s pretty.” But as soon as he read the explanation of the archaic language and realized it meant “my thoughts are always filled with you,” he went bright red. It was so sweet that it made Kaori and me giggle.

Meguro, the vice president, had chosen a poem by Takashina no Takako:

“’Tis difficult for the words ‘I will never forget you’ to last ’til the distant future, thus do I wish my life would end today having heard them.”

It was a poem about the uncertainty of love: “I’m very happy to hear you say that you will never forget me, but no one knows what will happen in the distant future, so I would rather die with this happiness.” Her arrangement consisted of ivy and a single rose. It expressed the passion of love and how the happiness of the present brings forth feelings of uncertainty about the future.

Kaori and I were both startled when Haruhiko arrived. Meguro had a tense look on her face because she was conscious of Okubo’s feelings, but her boyfriend’s visit proceeded without issue. Okubo greeted him but said nothing else, and he didn’t say anything to her either.

“It’s hard to look at Okubo,” Kaori murmured wistfully. “Unrequited love is painful, isn’t it?”

I looked at Okubo, who was hanging her head, and nodded in agreement. It was cruel that she had to be in the same place as the person whose love had come true.

“Aoi, Kaori,” a voice called out, startling us out of our listless mood.

I blinked in surprise. “You came to visit, Manager?”

“Yes, I wanted to see your flower arrangements,” he said gently before shifting his attention to my best friend. “Hello, Kaori.”

“H-Hello, thank you very much for coming.” Her face was bright red and her eyes were spinning.

She must be really surprised.

Suddenly, she raised her head and pointed at her work. “U-Um, this one is mine.”

The manager looked down at it with great interest. “This is...a poem by Ono no Komachi, I see.” He glanced at my poem and tilted his head. “Aoi’s seems to be Ono no Komachi too. Did you pick matching ones on purpose?”

“Oh, no, it was just a coincidence,” answered Kaori.

Kaori and I had happened to choose the same poet, but our poems were different. Hers was:

“Yearning has exhausted me, so I wish to sleep a little. I may meet him in my dreams; if not, I may at least forget.”

“It conveys a sad but endearing love,” remarked the manager. “And this arrangement fits the poem perfectly,” he added, looking at the green-based arrangement of snowdrops and globe thistles with a gentle smile. “It makes me think of a sigh of love. It’s very nice.”

Kaori blushed to the point where her ears turned red, said a quiet “Thanks,” and lowered her head.

The manager then looked at my piece and exclaimed, “Oh! Yours is lovely too, Aoi. Kiyotaka would be overjoyed if he saw it.”

“He can’t come, so I was going to take a picture and send it to him. It’s kind of embarrassing, though.” It was an embodiment of my own feelings of love, after all.

“Oh, don’t say that. You should send it since he’s working so hard in an unfamiliar place. That’s right, shall we pay Kotani Brewery a visit sometime?”

“Okay.”

After that, more guests came and enjoyed the tea and sweets, looked at the flowers and poetry, and left in a relaxed mood. The festival event at Demachi Masugata wasn’t a roaring success, but it was quite well received, so we were very satisfied as we began to clean up. Just as I picked up my flower arrangement, getting ready to leave—

“Aoi,” came a nostalgic voice from behind me.

I turned around in surprise and saw Holmes wearing a down jacket over his work clothes.

“I slipped out during the evening break,” he explained as he walked up to me, sounding out of breath. “Is the exhibit over already?”

“Whoa, isn’t Aoi’s boyfriend really cool?” remarked Osaki, her eyes wide open.

“Yeah, what a surprise!” Shibuya agreed, equally shocked.

Feeling embarrassed, I walked towards Holmes, meeting him halfway. “The cafe is closed, but I haven’t put away my work yet. Here it is,” I said, turning around and pointing at it.

“This is yours...” He stood next to me and looked down at my display piece.

The poem I had chosen was:

“Perhaps he appeared in my dream because I fell asleep thinking of him. If I had known it was a dream, I would not have woken up.”

I had created what was called a box flower arrangement, where the flowers were laid out in a box. I had used flowers that were light colors such as pink and white to give off the impression of a bed and dreams. I thought it was a perfect poem for me since Holmes had often been appearing in my dreams of late.

He continued to stare at my flowers, not saying a word.

“I think it turned out pretty cute, if I do say so myself,” I said, laughing to cover up my embarrassment.

“This is unfair. It’s just too sweet,” he muttered. I looked up and saw that his face was bright red and he was covering his mouth with his hand.

“Unfair?” My eyes widened.

The club members, who had been watching us, all burst out into laughter and said:

“It’s okay, you can hug her.”

“Yeah, we’ll turn the other way.”

“Really, you can do whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” said Holmes. It didn’t seem like he had the slightest intention of holding back.

I stiffened. “No, you can’t. Not in a place like this. We can hold hands at most.” I took his hand in mine and realized it was ice cold. I looked up at him in shock. “Your hand is freezing.”

“Oh, I borrowed a scooter and rushed here from Fushimi. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to put on gloves.”

“Thank you for going to that much effort. It really does feel like ice...” I wrapped my hands around his cold hand and rubbed it, trying to warm it up.

“See, this is what I’m talking about. Could you stop doing these things?”

He seemed genuinely bothered, so I immediately let go and apologized.

“No, I didn’t mean I wanted you to stop now. Just...don’t do these things for any other guys, all right? You absolutely mustn’t.” He squeezed my hands again.

“Sure...”

“I should put my work away too,” Okubo spoke up. “Thanks so much, everyone. I can retire in peace now.”

We bowed and thanked her back, but all of us had sad expressions on our faces.

Meguro looked at Okubo’s work and winced in pain. “I’m sorry, Okubo. This is how you feel, isn’t it?”

The club president shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. If anything, it should be me. I was jealous and told Kajiwara that I couldn’t recommend you. I’m really sorry, and I wish you two happiness.” She offered a handshake.

Meguro bit her lip and took her hand with tears in her eyes. Okubo was still smiling, but I could tell that she was holding back tears of her own. It was too painful to watch, so I looked away.

“I see that Meguro still believes she and Okubo fell in love with the same person,” Holmes whispered.

I nodded in silence. Meguro thought that Okubo liked Haruhiko too...but the flowers probably revealed the truth. I looked at the light purple misebaya flowers in Okubo’s arrangement and recalled what Holmes had said last night.

“Aoi, this flower arrangement might hold another meaning.”

“Huh?” I blinked.

“Misebaya flowers have another name that means ‘string of jewels,’ referring to a necklace. Don’t you think that name fits this arrangement perfectly?”

I looked at Okubo’s flowers again. They did look like a necklace, with the round flowers as jewels and the green stems connecting them as the string.

There was a love poem that began with a string of jewels:

“O string of jewels, if it shall end, then let it end. If it does not, I fear my endurance shall weaken.”

The string of jewels was a metaphor for the thread of life, so the poem meant: “This life of mine, if it shall end, then let it end. If I continue to live any longer, I may not be able to keep hiding my love for you.” It was a poem about enduring love, written by Princess Shokushi, the daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa.

A hidden love that must be kept secret no matter what...

Okubo had decided to distance herself from Meguro because Meguro had a boyfriend. That much was certain. It was also a fact that she was upset and wanted to prevent them from dating, which had resulted in her saying bad things about Meguro to Haruhiko. But the person Okubo was in love with wasn’t Haruhiko.

I subtly looked over at Okubo, who had her hand on Meguro’s shoulder. She smiled as if trying to comfort the girl.

A secret love that could never be revealed—because doing so would put the person she loved in a tough spot and hurt her feelings. It could result in their precious memories of the past being denied...but still, she chanted her love, hiding it behind the misebaya flowers.

“I can’t stay by your side any longer, because I won’t be able to keep hiding my love for you.” Those were her secret feelings towards Meguro that she could never say aloud.

As I started to hang my head, Holmes tightened his grip on my hand.

After leaving the cafe, I walked hand in hand with Holmes down the shopping street to see him off since he was going back to Fushimi.

“Thank you so much for coming even though you were so busy,” I said, looking up at him.

He shook his head and replied, “No, I came because I wanted to, and I’m glad I did. I was moved by your work.” He placed a hand on his chest.

“Thank you. By the way, who did you borrow the scooter from?”

“It’s Kota’s.”

“Kota... That reminds me, I heard from Haruhiko that Kota had a painful love in the past.”

“A painful love?”

“Yes.”

I recounted everything Haruhiko had told me about five years ago, when Kota had confessed that he’d fallen in love with someone he wasn’t allowed to.

Holmes’s response was simply, “I see...”

“I guess everyone’s suffering from love, not just Okubo.”

“Indeed, to the point where people today can still relate to poems written in the Heian period. Love has been swaying people’s emotions in every direction since ancient times.”

I gave a silent nod.

“The Ono no Komachi poem you chose made me really happy. It was like receiving a love letter. I think I’ll be motivated to work harder for a while.”

Hearing him bring the poem up again made me blush.

“Oh, I should give you a response poem while I’m here.”

“Huh?” I looked up at him.

“There’s one that perfectly matches how I’m feeling right now.” He held an index finger up to his mouth and grinned mischievously.

13

After borrowing Kota’s scooter to rush to Demachiyanagi during the evening break, Kiyotaka quickly returned to Fushimi.

“Thank you for lending me your scooter,” he said, dropping by the break room.

Mizuki shook her head. “It’s okay.” She giggled. “You’re like a real-life prince, rushing over during your short break for your girlfriend’s sake.”

“No, I didn’t rush over for her sake. It was for my own sake.”

Mizuki gaped, as did the other workers who had been listening to them while eating.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“For instance, let’s say your favorite idol was holding an event in Demachiyanagi and you rushed there during the evening break because you thought you could make it in time. That would be for your sake, not the idol’s, right? I desperately wanted to see Aoi’s work, so I went there for me. Saying it was for her is like glorifying my actions, so it makes me feel bad.” He really did seem a bit guilty, which made the others burst out laughing.

“You’re an unusual guy, Yagashira. So, did you bring her a bouquet of flowers?”

“No, I didn’t have time for that. I could only give her a response poem.”

“A what?”

“It was an event with flower arrangements matched to poems.”

“Oh, I see. You really are unusual.”

Suddenly, Takao came in holding a wooden box. “Kiyotaka!”

“Yes, sir?”

“You were right; the bottle really did come back. Thank goodness!” the overseer shouted excitedly, showing Kiyotaka the sake bottle in the box.

“That’s great.”

Ueno tilted his head. “What do you mean, the bottle came back?”

Takao flinched and waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, it’s nothing. It was only gone for a moment. Now that it’s back, it’s all fine.”

Kanda put his teacup down on the table with a loud clunk. “That means someone stole it at one point, doesn’t it? I don’t think you can call that ‘fine.’ I don’t like being kept under suspicion,” he said with a stern face, in contrast to his usual quiet self.

“Huh? Does that mean the thief is one of us?” Ueno’s eyes widened. “Am I being suspected too?”

“No, I never said that,” Takao said in an attempt to calm the workers.

“Was this your doing, Yagashira?” Kanda asked, glaring at Kiyotaka.

“Huh? Me?” Kiyotaka pointed at himself, his eyes snapping wide open.

“Yes, you. You know the value of that bottle more than anyone else. You said it was worth eight hundred thousand, but it might be even more than that. You also said you wanted to buy it, didn’t you?”

“I did say that.”

“See, like I said. Who knows what you’re thinking behind that smile? I always thought you were shady,” he spat.

“Kanda, you’re being too rude,” Mizuki scolded him.

“It’s fine,” said Kiyotaka. “Sometimes there are people who can sense my dubiousness. Kanda is just one of them.”

“What?” She blinked.

“Kanda, if I wanted that sake bottle, I wouldn’t have appraised it as eight hundred thousand yen in the first place. I would say, ‘This is fake. You’ll be treated as a laughingstock if you keep it as a treasure. There are people who like this aesthetic even if it’s a forgery, though, so could I have it?’—and it would have been mine. Even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t return it after successfully stealing it. Wouldn’t it be better to lay the blame on the rest of you and feign innocence? I’m ‘the young master of the Yagashira family,’ after all.”

Kanda gulped and Ueno’s face stiffened. “I feel like my impression of you as a nice young man has been shattered,” said the latter.

“Who did it, then?” Kanda asked, irritated.

“It was me,” said a voice behind them. Everyone turned around at once.

“Kota...” Mizuki’s eyes widened in shock.

“I was pissed off at my father and stole it, but I put it back because I’d have a hard time selling it with Yagashira around,” he said bluntly, putting his hand on his hip.

“Kota stole it?” Kanda had a look of utter disbelief on his face.

“I can’t believe you’d do that just because you were mad at the overseer,” Ueno protested.

“I overheard what he said here the other day, about giving the family heirloom to Mizuki’s future husband,” Kota replied with a blank expression.

“I was here when he said that. I wondered why he would give it to Mizuki’s husband instead of the family heir,” Ueno said hesitantly. Kanda seemed to agree with him.

Kiyotaka reached out and picked up the photo frame on top of the tea cabinet. “Doesn’t this picture tell the whole story?”

“The picture?”

“Yes, I found this picture slightly strange. It was taken at a proper studio. Family photos like this are usually taken during winter or autumn events such as New Year’s or the Shichi-Go-San festival, but in this one, the two children have short sleeves and their late mother is wearing summer colors.”

“Couldn’t it have been taken during the Bon festival?” asked Ueno.

“If so, it would be a little unnatural for Kota’s grandparents to be absent since they were alive at the time. My guess is that this picture was taken when Takao and the woman in the kimono remarried. In other words, Kota was his late mother’s child from a previous marriage.”

Kota nodded. “That’s right. I joined the Kotani family with my mother.”

“What?” Kanda and Ueno looked at Kota in shock.

Kiyotaka shrugged. “I find it strange that you’d be so surprised. First of all, Kota is the only one in the family who doesn’t speak with a Kyoto accent. Secondly, Mizuki calls her father ‘dad’ and her mother ‘mother.’ This is probably because Kota used ‘mother’ and she followed suit. Also, the name ‘Kota Kotani’ is repetitive, which made me wonder if he originally had a different surname.”

“Yes, my mother’s maiden name is Ishiguro, so I was originally Kota Ishiguro. I may be a stepson, but I’ve worked hard to become the heir. And then my father said he was giving the sake bottle to Mizuki’s husband instead of me, and it just rubbed me the wrong way.”

Kanda and Ueno furrowed their brows.

“Wait, Ishiguro...”

“Is that the brewery we used to work at?”

“Yeah,” answered Takao. “When Mizuki was only four years old, her mother ran away, saying that she couldn’t stand working at a sake brewery anymore. Then my parents sent me to Ishiguro Brewery in Kanto to learn their techniques, so I left Mizuki in their care. While I was there, I fell in love with Kota’s mother, who was a married woman, and we made a mistake.”

Kanda and Ueno’s jaws dropped.

“It was a disaster when we were discovered. She was divorced and escaped to my house with Kota. So...when she got sick and passed away, I thought it was my fault. I was a sinner who had stolen someone’s wife. That’s why, when I heard that Ishiguro had passed away from a sudden illness and the business had gone bankrupt, I reached out to the workers who had nowhere to go, hoping it would act as some form of atonement.”

Kiyotaka nodded. He now understood the real reason Takao had said, “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“My parents remarried too, so I can see where Kota is coming from, but I still can’t believe that honest and kind guy would try something like that,” Ueno said, his eyes moist with tears.

Kota averted his gaze.

Takao heaved a sigh and said, “Yeah. Kota is such a terrible liar.”

“Huh?” Everyone frowned.

“Indeed he is,” said Kiyotaka, nodding and looking straight at the overseer’s son. “Kota, you didn’t steal the sake bottle. You’re covering for someone you care deeply for, aren’t you?”

Kota’s eyebrow twitched.

“And the person in question...is Mizuki, is it not?” Kiyotaka shifted his gaze to the overseer’s daughter.

Mizuki nodded with a grim look on her face. “Yeah...I took the bottle.”

“Why?” Takao asked gently.

“Kota told me, ‘Father is thinking of giving that sake bottle to your future husband. Hurry up and find a good man to put him at ease.’ When I heard that, I got so, so angry. Why would he pass over Kota, who worked so hard for Kotani Brewery, to give it to my husband? It doesn’t make any sense. So when I was cleaning dad’s room, I got curious and looked at the bottle. As I was looking at it, the anger gradually built up in me and I swiped at it with my hand...and it broke.”

“I-It broke? Is this a fake, then?” Takao stared intently at the sake bottle.

“No, it’s the same one. Only one part of it was damaged. I was gonna pretend I didn’t know anything, but I heard it was really valuable, so I got scared. I snuck it to my room to fix it so that you wouldn’t be able to tell.” She guiltily hung her head.

“There was a tiny amount of powder in Takao’s room, indicating that something ceramic had been broken,” Kiyotaka added. “I assumed you broke it and were in the process of fixing it, since you said you were good at handicrafts.”

“So that’s why you muttered, ‘When it comes back, its value may have changed,’” Takao remarked. “This is an incredible repair job, though.” He stared at the bottle, impressed.

“Aren’t you mad?” asked Mizuki. “I ruined the value of our family treasure.”

“I never planned on selling it to begin with. That said, there’s something else I want to scold you about.”

“Something else?”

“Watching you two is frustrating me to death. That’s why I called in Kiyotaka. Thought I’d bring a handsome man into the mix to push things forward,” Takao said, glancing at the young man.

“So you knew,” said Kiyotaka.

“Well, yeah. Kota was repressing himself so much that it was painful to watch.”

“Huh?” Mizuki’s eyes widened.

“Kota, Mizuki, it appears that the overseer is aware of your feelings and approves of them. In fact, he might think Mizuki’s husband could be no one else.”

Kota silently put his hand over his mouth.

“What?” Mizuki said, flustered. “But Kota rejected me a long time ago. When I turned twenty, I confessed to him, ‘I’ve always loved you as a man,’ and he said, ‘Even if we’re not related by blood, we’re still siblings. Father would be sad.’ After that, he kept trying to marry me off. It was so annoying...” She lowered her eyes.

Takao looked at Kota, surprised. “Is that true, Kota? Did you reject her?”

Kota pressed a trembling hand against his forehead. “I mean, I had to, didn’t I? You called yourself a sinner, but to my mother and me, you were our savior.” He turned to the rest of us to explain. “My real father was a first-class tradesman, but the way he treated us was terrible. Cheating and violence were everyday occurrences. He made my mother work at the brewery in addition to doing the housework just because there are female brewers these days. Then the calm and gentle Takao appeared, and as he defended her from my father, they naturally fell in love. When the affair was discovered, my father screamed that he was going to kill my mother, and Takao got on his hands and knees and said, ‘It was my fault. Please kill me instead. You can beat me to death.’ He protected us with his life. Others may call him a sinner, but we were truly grateful for him. After we came here, Takao—father—treated me like I was his real son, even after my mother passed away. Mizuki was his precious daughter, so I told myself, ‘I can’t. I’m her big brother.’ Isn’t it strange to begin with? Even though we’re not related by blood, we grew up as siblings ever since we were young. How could I fall in love with my younger sister? It shouldn’t be possible,” he said, his voice growing hoarse.

Kiyotaka shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s strange.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sure you didn’t see Mizuki as ‘a younger sister’ from the day you met her. To you, she was always ‘an important girl to protect,’ wasn’t she?”

Kota widened his eyes, lost for words.

“Kota...” Mizuki looked at him with teary eyes.

“Kiyotaka’s right,” said Takao. “There’s nothing wrong. You’re a healthy couple and no one can criticize you. I kept waiting for you to make up your mind and tell me, but Kota’s practically given up. My patience is wearing thin, so seriously, hurry up.” He put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

“Indeed,” Kiyotaka said with a smile. “Step-siblings can get married if they aren’t blood-related. He might have to leave the family register first, though.”

Mizuki turned bright red and put her hands over her mouth. “Kota, I still—”

Kota immediately hugged her tightly and said, “Sorry, Mizuki. I’ve always felt the same way as you.”

“Kota!” Mizuki buried her face in his chest and cried.

The others smiled at them and quietly left the scene. Even Kanda and Ueno, who had been interested in Mizuki, seemed to be fine with Kota being the one.

As they headed to the brewery, Kiyotaka glanced at Takao, who was walking next to him. “I certainly didn’t think I’d been called here as a catalyst of sorts.”

“Really? I’m glad you didn’t notice. Your role was the rival in love.”

“Rival in love... Wouldn’t that only apply if both men were in love with the same woman?”

“Well, it all worked out.” Takao grinned mischievously.

14

“So that’s what happened,” I said, astonished. Holmes had been telling me over the phone about the series of events that had occurred at Kotani Brewery.

“We were both caught up in incidents related to a secret love,” he said with a chuckle.

“You’re right.”

The couple at Kotani had kept their love hidden because they’d grown up as siblings. Okubo had been hiding her love for her best friend, who had been with her for a long time. Both cases were related to secret loves, but one of them came to fruition while the other remained hidden.

As I started to feel sad thinking about Okubo, Holmes said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine. As I said before, she must’ve made up her mind. Time heals all wounds, and everything comes down to fate. Okubo’s match will appear one day.”

“Okay.”

“Right, let’s go to Bar Konta together sometime. The new menu item I suggested is very popular.”

“Oh, I’d love to! You didn’t invite me, so I thought I wasn’t allowed to go.”

“That’s because I was worried about you coming late at night. I wouldn’t be able to ensure your safety on the way home, after all. When I’m finished training here, I’ll be able to go with you.”

Oh, so that’s why. My heart fluttered. “Thank you. What kind of food is it?”

“Deep-fried cheesecake.”

“What?” I squeaked.

“It’s surprisingly delicious and goes well with sake. It’s nice because it doesn’t feel too much like dessert.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that, but I do want to try it.” I laughed.

“Please do.”

“Oh right, thank you for the response poem too. It made me really happy.”

“Thank you too.”

The response poem that Holmes had chosen was by Fujiwara no Yoshitaka:

“I believed I would gladly give up my life for you, yet now that we are together, I wish to live as long as possible.”

Being united with the person you love could be considered a miracle. Even if your feelings do connect, a minor misunderstanding or quarrel could force your linked hands apart. Taking Fujiwara no Yoshitaka’s earnest wish to heart, I decided to cherish the miracle that had brought us together.