He diligently wipes the tables and counter clean with a cloth dampened with vinegar.
Usually, Shinobu or Eva handles this task, but it’s Nobuyuki’s habit to clean once a week.
Today is the Sabbath in the Old Capital.
Even though it’s morning, there’s no one on the main street.
The widely practiced religion in the Old Capital dictates that it’s a day when people don’t have to work. Nobuyuki wouldn’t mind opening the shop, but even if he did, no customers would come.
It seems everyone values having a day to spend with their family, more so than saying it is due to experience.
In fact, he tried opening once before, but the only customer that day was Deacon Edwin, and it was hardly worth the effort.
Finally, he cleanses the household Shinto altar and replaces the water for the sakaki branches.
Translator’s Note
Sakaki are flowering evergreen trees considered sacred in the Shinto religion. Branches are often used in rituals.
Since the day Eva disappeared once, he’s started offering inarizushi about once a week. He’s not sure what it means, but he feels like business has improved slightly since he started doing this.
Speaking of Inari, the strange thing is the shop itself.
The entrance to this shop, located on the corner of a shopping street that’s whispered to be a shuttered street, somehow connects to the Old Capital.
It’s possible to open the front shutter and enter from the shopping street side, but when you try to leave the shop, you end up in the Old Capital.
Both Nobuyuki and Shinobu aren’t the type to worry about details, so they haven’t told the landlord. The landlord, who lives right next to the Inari Shrine, never comes to check on the shop, and the monthly rent is paid by bank transfer.
Still, Nobuyuki’s occasional trips to the Inari Shrine aren’t just for a walk.
It was that Inari Shrine that helped him when he was really in trouble.
“Well, it’s about time to get ready.”
On a normal Sabbath, he’d be done after cleaning.
After that, he’d watch recorded detective dramas in his room upstairs, build ship-in-a-bottle models or plastic models, or go out to eat under the guise of research.
But today is different. He has special guests coming.
He changes from the samue he always wears while cleaning into his chef’s uniform.
Translator’s Note
Samue is a traditional Japanese work clothing worn by monks or craftspeople.
Putting on the white chef’s hat, he feels his mind clear and calm, one of Nobuyuki’s special skills from his apprenticeship days.
He finishes sterilizing the knives and is getting ready when he hears a noise from the back door.
“…Welcome.”
“…Good afternoon.”
Entering shyly is Shinobu.
Her light summer dress and thin jacket create a very different impression from her usual kappogi apron.
Translator’s Note
Kappogi is a type of apron-like smock traditionally worn over a kimono.
She walks behind Nobuyuki and into the shop, then sits down at the counter.
Every one of her movements is different from usual, calm and composed.
“Taisho, sorry for imposing on you today.”
“It’s fine. It’s our anniversary.”
Today marks exactly half a year since Izakaya Nobu opened in the Old Capital.
When the shop first opened, the Old Capital was still chilly, with occasional snow flurries, but now it’s hot enough to make you sweat.
He pours two glasses of beer, not in mugs but in glasses.
As he hands her the glass, beaded with condensation, he’s surprised by how slender and long Shinobu’s fingers are.
“Cheers.”
“…Cheers.”
He only meant to wet his lips, but perhaps he was thirsty. He unintentionally downs the whole glass and then smiles wryly.
Shinobu rarely wears makeup when they go out to eat, but her skin is fresh and dewy. Or perhaps it’s because she doesn’t wear much makeup.
“Speaking of beer, there have been a lot of things, haven’t there?”
“There have. The Backeshoff incident.”
“That’s right, Backeshoff, that was the name, I think.”
As Shinobu laughs amusedly with a glass in her hand, Nobuyuki brings out the snacks he’d prepared.
He was able to serve sashimi, which hasn’t yet become popular among the people of the Old Capital, without hesitation today.
He watches Shinobu carefully as she savors the food.
Strictly brought up as the daughter of a ryotei owner, Shinobu has beautiful eating manners.
And her palate is also reliable.
“Taisho, haven’t you improved your skills again?”
“Do you think so? If Shinobu-chan says so, maybe I have.”
“I think the flavor is more attuned to the customers now.”
“Attuned to the customers, huh?”
It was about nine months ago that he ran away from the ryotei with Shinobu, who had run away from home.
It wasn’t a romantic elopement.
It’s more accurate to say that the two, who had left separately, happened to be acting together.
Shinobu left home because she was being forced into a marriage she didn’t want.
There was a plan to have her marry the son of a bank vice president in order to rebuild the prestigious but struggling ryotei.
It should have been obvious from Shinobu’s personality that she would leave home rather than accept that.
“Taisho, I want tempura.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll fry anything you want.”
With Shinobu’s marriage, the trump card for rebuilding the ryotei, called off, the atmosphere in the kitchen began to suggest that layoffs were necessary.
Nobuyuki was confident in his skills, but he wasn’t good at socializing. He thought he might as well quit before being fired, and that’s when he bumped into Miss Shinobu.
He sprinkles salt on the crisply fried tempura to season it.
Shinobu’s favorites are whitebait, maitake mushrooms, garland chrysanthemum, and squid. Unusually, she’s also a fan of red pickled ginger tempura.
“This squid is delicious.”
“If it’s this delicious, even Berthold might be able to eat it.”
“He seems to have overcome his aversion quite a bit lately, hasn’t he?”
Nobuyuki takes a piece of the extra squid he fried and empties his second glass.
If he does say so himself, he thinks it’s fried very well.
Perhaps the alcohol is starting to affect him; his face feels a little flushed.
From then on, he makes various dishes according to Shinobu’s orders.
Things that would be difficult to serve in the Old Capital. Things that could be served in the Old Capital with a little ingenuity. Conversely, things that could be arranged using the Old Capital’s cuisine.
With each dish, Shinobu’s merciless critiques fly, and they get excited talking about the regulars they want to feed.
This kind of holiday isn’t bad.
For the final dish, two servings of salmon chazuke.
Unbeknownst to him, it’s a dish that even the late Emperor had eaten.
As they slurp it down, their stomachs are filled with a sense of comfort.
“Hey, Nobuyuki-san.”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s continue running Izakaya ‘Nobu’ together, okay?”
“…Yeah, let’s.”
He thought he heard the faint sound of cicadas somewhere.
Midsummer is already approaching.