The awful memory of being bitten on the backside before his marriage proposal had scarred her husband to the point that he would cry out if they even crossed paths with a Chihuahua, the sight of which would lead their grown son to tease his father, which would then cause her husband to sulk. Tokié would take note of where there were likely to be dogs and nonchalantly lead them on a detour so as to avoid them. She would take these memories of their life together to her own grave.
Forgive me, my dear.
If she got a dog, would that make it difficult for her husband’s spirit to return home for the Bon festival and his memorial services, she wondered? You’ll be fine, she thought. Now that he’s a ghost, he’d have no need to avoid dogs, right? She’d put the dog in its cage for the Bon festival. If you like, you can sit on top of my head.
She’d just make sure not to get a Kai Ken.
Obayashi Station
Just what’s so lovely about this station?
Shoko had got off the train at the old lady’s recommendation and was taking in her surroundings.
She considered going into the waiting room on the same platform, but the windowed, cold-looking interior contained nothing more than a row of hard plastic benches – nothing refined save for the alternating colours of pink and blue. Though air-conditioned in summer and heated in winter, the waiting room was still rather rustic. On rainy days, the windows probably fogged up with condensation.
The lavatory was clean, but still, nothing particularly special, and the vending machines looked fairly ordinary too.
Baffled, she headed towards the ticket gate when—
A tiny tailcoat whizzed by, followed by a cacophony of chirping from above.
Shoko looked up to see a swallow’s nest, with a clutch of baby swallows leaning out over the sides.
The parent bird shovelled food into the chicks’ mouths, before flying off again in a rush, as the same ruckus rose up from the other side.
She turned around to see another nest. Looking about, she counted three more while an endless chorus of baby swallows swelled amid the fluttering wings of their parents.
Under each nest, a cradle had been crudely fashioned. And beneath the cradle located just inside the ticket gate she spotted a notice written in vivid brushstrokes:
We have returned again this year. Please excuse our commotion and kindly look after us until our fledglings leave the nest.
A message that would melt even the toughest heart. It must have been written by someone who worked at the station.
Signs calling attention to swallows’ nests weren’t uncommon, but the ones Shoko usually encountered were to warn about the birds’ droppings. She didn’t ever recall one that played at being a humorous greeting from the swallows themselves.
She had bought a ticket that allowed her to go as far as Umeda but she decided to have a look around first. It was such a tiny station, there wasn’t even a space for drop-offs. Instead, pedestrians came and went along a gently sloping, forked path that was paved in asphalt on one side and brick on the other.
She exited through the ticket gate and headed down the asphalt path to the point where the brick path veered suddenly to the left. There were a lot of parked bicycles and as she started down the brick path, she noticed a mini-supermarket and beyond that a drugstore.
Under an eave of the supermarket was a white umbrella, hanging upside down by its handle.
What could that be for?
She walked up to it in wonder, then clapped her hands together.
Above the umbrella that hung from the soffit lay a swallow’s nest, with the canopy of the inverted umbrella positioned to catch bird droppings.
Shoko couldn’t help but express her awe at this innovation to the security guard, an older man, who was keeping an eye on the bicycles.
‘How thoughtful!’ she said.
The security guard, who she guessed to be a part-timer who had taken this job after reaching retirement age, turned and regarded Shoko with a dubious gaze. He appeared not to have heard what she’d said.
‘What a good idea!’ Speaking a bit louder, Shoko pointed to the umbrella hanging upside down. This time he seemed to have understood.
‘Oh, yes, that. We mustn’t take down the swallows’ nests. They travel such a great distance, they’re auspicious birds. But when they build their nest here, what can we do? Customers will get covered with droppings. So we all came up with this idea.’
Obayashi is a lovely station.
Shoko finally understood what the old lady on the train had meant by those words.
A lovely station and what seemed like a lovely town (although it was so small that calling it a town was a bit of a stretch).
It made her want to buy something from this store that hung an umbrella from its eaves in order to honour both the swallows and their customers. Come to think of it, she had barely eaten anything at the wedding reception and now she was a bit peckish. There was a bench out front too, so perhaps she would treat herself to a little something to eat and some tea to go with it?
Shoko bowed to the security guard and went inside. At the front was an array of vegetables at bargain prices – she was tempted to buy some but thought better of it; she didn’t feel like carrying them all the way home.
It didn’t take long to make her way around the entire store, but for such a small space, it had an impressive selection. The mini-market was modest in scale but extremely resourceful with its stock, plus it stayed open late at night. Particularly convenient for someone who lived alone. You could quickly grow tired of eating meals from the convenience store. To have a store like this in the neighbourhood would make grocery shopping fun, even if both of you worked … No sooner did her mind wander than she remembered how that opportunity was now lost to her, and she felt a sudden pang in her chest.
There was an assortment of prepared foods near the cash register: bento meals and such like, as well as a basket piled up with onigiri. Except these were not typical convenience-store-style packaged items – the rice was studded with pickles, rolled by hand into balls and wrapped in cellophane. Charmed by their homeyness, Shoko selected an ume-shiso onigiri along with a bottle of green tea, and paid for them.
Today’s clear skies had offered a break in the rainy season, and the bench felt pleasantly warm. Without a second thought about creasing her dress, she finally sat down, her stubborn insistence on standing while on the train now evaporated.
The onigiri looked simple and unpretentious, like the ones her mother used to roll and press into shape with all the requisite maternal care. Shoko savoured it, chewing slowly and washing it down with the tea. That single rice ball was enough to quell her hunger.
Shoko threw the empty wrapper and bottle in the trash bin, and then called out to the security guard she’d spoken to earlier.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What can I do for you?’ the security guard responded affably, perhaps still feeling pleased about her praise for the umbrella idea.
‘Is there a store around here where I can buy some clothes?’
This mini-market didn’t have a clothing section so she figured it wouldn’t be rude to ask him.
The security guard cocked his head, confounded. Perhaps it was unlikely he’d know about any local women’s boutiques.
Eventually, though, he pointed to a large supermarket that faced the sloping path towards the station.
‘I think they have a ladies’ clothing section in there.’
Compared to this cosy little store, the building looked huge – there was no way of missing it.
Shoko thanked the man and bowed, then started down the slope.
Shoko in her stark white dress received a few non-judgemental looks. This town had an everyday feel to it, and most of the people coming and going in the early afternoon along this sloping path were dressed casually. Her dress stood out conspicuously.