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Japan, Uncategorized, Writing

Washing Over Me: Epilogue

終章

1 November 2075

It was great to be back home. My recovery had taken about as long as the doctors had anticipated it would but even with the benefits from eight weeks of post-recovery treatment I still felt sluggish as if I had been in a coma for three years and not three months.

I heard the lock of the front door click as it was released and then the rustle of plastic bags that followed as they were put down on the floor while Shoichi took off his shoes.

Tadaima! ‘I’m home!’

‘Okaeri!’ ‘Welcome back!’

‘They had an excellent selection in there tonight,’ Shoichi said as he opened the door from the genkan and walked through into the kitchen.

‘Great, what did you go for?’

‘Well, I thought that I would push the boat out seeing as this is a very special occasion…’

‘I’m glad that you think so!’

‘…and decided to get the “Grand Celebration Sushi and Sashimi Selection”,’ Shoichi announced and produced the tray of food from one of the bags with a flourish. He held it out in front of me to inspect.

‘Wow that looks fantastic!’ I said and without warning I felt a tightening in my mouth as the saliva glands fired into life in anticipation of this feast.

‘I’ll get some plates for the soy sauce and wasabi. Are you alright using the disposable chopsticks that came with it?’ Shoichi said, reaching into a smaller bag for the waribashi.

‘Oh no, let’s use our usual chopsticks,’ I said. ‘I want all the familiarities of home now that I’m out of the hospital.’

‘How about a drink?’ Shoichi said as he returned with our chopsticks and two plates that were patterned with a picture of a blowfish.

‘I think I’ll have some water for now, please.’

‘Coming right up, honey!’ Shoichi said on his way back to the kitchen. ‘Do you mind if I have a beer?’

‘No, not at all. I may have a sip though if that’s alright.’

‘Of course,’ Shoichi said placing a can of Kirin Original Brew onto the table together with one empty glass and one filled with water. ‘Is that everything? Shall we start?’

‘Itadakimasu!’ we both said at the same time and smiled as bashfully as when we had first started dating.

The sushi and sashimi were lined up in neat rows, each separated by aojiso green perilla leaves to prevent the subtle flavours of the different types of fish from mixing. Shoichi unclipped the clear plastic lid and placed it to one side.

‘After you, Kimiko,’ he said to me, gesturing towards the food.

‘Arigatō,’ I said as I reached into the tray and selected a slice of sea bream which I dipped gently in the soy sauce and then up to my mouth. 

Oishiiii! ‘It’s deeeelicious!’ I exclaimed, the delicate slice of fish dissolving slowly as I chewed. 

Shoichi looked on.

‘What?’ I asked, not expecting a reply.

‘Oh nothing,’ he said. ‘I’d just forgotten how beautiful you are.’

‘What are you talking about? Just get on and eat as I’m not holding back!’ I said deflecting his words. However, I was delighted to hear Shoichi pay me such a compliment after so many years together.

‘It’s great to have you home, Kimiko.’

‘And it’s great to be home. Thanks for being there for me.’

I must have eaten close to two-thirds of the sushi and sashimi and really should have stopped earlier although I needed all the energy I could get; my body craved food and I gave it what it wanted. However, the momentous journey that I had been on meant I still got physically exhausted very quickly. This was going to be a problem as my mind was buzzing, so anxious to get out and about. Naomi had already left a note welcoming me home and asking when I would like to pay a visit with her to Beauty Wai for some pampering. One step at a time, I had to keep telling myself to temper the enthusiasm and not get carried away, but it felt so good to be alive!

‘Kimiko-chan, do you want to have a bath?’ Shoichi asked as he tidied away the things from dinner.

‘That would be lovely, thanks.  Do you mind running one for me?’ I replied.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said as he walked off to the bathroom.

As the bath was filling up with water, I went through to the living room to watch some holovision. I was still catching up on everything that had been going on in Japan and that I had missed whilst in a coma. So much of the news was lacking context and I felt that I was just tuning into snapshots of information that did not fully make sense. The leading news story was of a man from Nagano Prefecture who had been sentenced to death for killing three of his neighbours over a five year period. It had seemed like an awful crime and I got the impression from that the reporter that this had been a big story which viewers had been following for some time. Perhaps it was but I didn’t have a clue and so I decided that I would ask Shoichi for an update tomorrow after a good night’s sleep in my own bed.

‘Your bath is ready!’ Shoichi called to me cheerfully.

I wheeled myself down the internal corridor of the ground floor to the senmenjo changing area just outside the bathroom, where Shoichi helped me as I undressed. I then paused for a moment, savouring the thought of bathing in this tub for the first time in over five months. Supported by Shoichi, I entered the wetroom and he lowered me down onto a chair that was placed in front of the shower.

‘Give me a shout when you are ready to get into the bath,’ he said turning the shower on.

‘Will do. Thank you, Shoichi,’ I called as he left the bathroom.

Drawing out the anticipation of the hot water enveloping my still tired body, I let the jets rain down on my head and I shut my eyes.

The smell of cypress wood caught me unawares, stirring distant but intense memories from my childhood; a wave of emotion came washing over me. 

Tears began to stream down my face to join the droplets of water splashing onto the wetroom floor.

I cried for Haruka, cried for the thousands who lost their lives in the earthquake and tsunami over sixty years ago and cried for the thousands more who, like Okāsan, simply disappeared without a trace.

おわり

Thank you for reaching the end of Washing Over Me.


If you would like to read this serialised novel in a single edition, Washing Over Me is available as a download for Kindle or as a printed paperback, both from Amazon:


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Japan, Uncategorized, Writing

Washing Over Me: Chapter 15

第十五章

25 August 2075

‘I really thought that you were going to get a blister,’ Shoichi said. ‘I’ve never seen anyone take so little care over putting on their walking boots for even a short hike, let alone climbing Fuji-san.’

Momentarily expecting an answer from Kimiko, he turned towards her but his words got no reaction. As much as he was comforted by the memories from their wedding anniversary, Shoichi still had some doubt that his talking to Kimiko would make any difference. He then looked up as the door to the room opened and Aoyagi-sensei walked in.

‘Good evening, Tanaka-san,’ she said. ‘I’m glad that you are still here, as there was something that I wanted to share with you.’

In her hand she held a small device and, with a push of a button, a wall panel opened to reveal a blank display screen which floated about ten centimetres from the solid surface. Docking the hand-held, the contents of the device became accessible via the screen and were controlled by hand gestures picked up by a small optical sensor embedded in the handheld’s dock.

‘I’m just accessing your wife’s brain scans and wanted to show you the electromagnetic pulses that I talked about when we met earlier today. If you look at the line running along the bottom of the screen – I’ve just highlighted it in red – at one o’clock this morning there was a small spike,’ she said.

Shoichi looked as suggested but was struggling to see anything besides the flat line on the display in front of him.

‘I’m afraid that I don’t really see anything meaningful, Aoyagi-sensei,’ he confessed squinting at the display.

‘OK, don’t worry, I should be able to magnify this,’ Aoyagi-sensei said. 

With a gesture of moving from a closed fist to an open hand she made the screen zoom in so the scale on the time axis showed from 01:00 to 01:10. 

‘What we are looking at here is something called “Nu-complexes” a term coined in two thousand and thirteen, when scientists in Canada and Romania discovered a new type of brainwave which occurs in the hippocampus even when brainwaves in other parts of the brain are practically non-existent.’

‘Hai,’ Shoichi said and nodded, more to indicate that he was still listening rather than understanding and so Aoyagi-sensei continued to explain.

‘Even in a very deep coma, these Nu-complexes are present, and we have been picking these up at very low levels from the moment your wife was first admitted to the hospital,’ she said and at the same time indicated with a Meiji Pharma depth-adjustable optical pointer to an area on the screen at 01:04. ‘You can see here that the strength of the signal increased from zero-point-five millivolts to one millivolt for a period of seven seconds and then dropped back down again.’

Aoyagi-sensei then held her hand out in front of her before making a fist and the screen zoomed out again. Flicking her hand from right to left, the time at the bottom of the image of the scan moved through to 17:45, or just twenty minutes ago.

‘I’ve just been alerted to a similar spike just before six o’clock but this time it lasted for more than thirty seconds at one-point-four millivolts before resuming normal deep-coma levels,’ she continued. ‘And I think that this is a good sign.’

‘So, do you think that my talking to her it is making a difference?’ Shoichi asked.

‘It certainly won’t do any harm, and judging by the amount of time that you’ve been sitting here today, I think it’s given you something to focus on whilst supporting your wife.’

‘Thank you Aoyagi-sensei for taking the time to come to see me this evening when I expect you are busy with all of your other patients,’ Shoichi said with a bow.

‘Not a problem, Tanaka-san. Please take care.’ 

And with this, Aoyagi-sensei walked to the far wall, removed the device from its dock, turned around and left the room.

***

The young guide, who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, strode up to the party and bowed graciously as she greeted them.

 ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Megumi Ishikawa but please call me Meg. I look forward to guiding you on this trip,’ she said by way of introduction.

‘Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,’ the group replied in unison.

‘Has everyone changed their footwear?’ Megumi asked.

‘Are you sure that those boots are going to be OK?’ Shoichi was then prompted to query again as he turned towards Kimiko and looked down at her feet.

‘Will you please stop fussing, Shoichi? My boots are on just fine,’ Kimiko replied with a shake of her head.

‘Right, we’ll be heading off shortly,’ Megumi continued having quickly scanned across the feet of the group and confirmed that nobody was climbing in unsuitable footwear; she did, however, note that one young girl was wearing jikatabi or split-toed carpenters’ work boots which had a soft leather upper that rose up to cover most of the lower leg together with a thin, flexible rubber sole.

‘Before we depart, there are a few things that I need to go through with you to make sure that this is an enjoyable, but most importantly safe, experience for you all. You will see once we get going that the gradient of Fuji-san is not that steep, and although there are some parts where we’ll be hiking over rocks, I’ll be going at a steady pace. I will remain at the front of the group and my assistant, Mayumi-san, will stay at the rear to ensure that none of you falls behind or inadvertently gets lost.’

At this point, Megumi looked over the tops of their heads towards Mayumi, a petite young lady dressed entirely in pink mountain gear, who had just joined them having run across the square.

 ‘Hello everyone, I’m Mayumi. Pleased to meet you,’ she said as she also bowed towards the group respectfully.

‘On the way, we’ll have plenty of opportunity to stop and rest. It’s important that you don’t push yourselves too hard so when we do stop please relax, have something to drink and a little to eat to keep your energy levels up,’ Megumi added. ‘If anyone gets injured or begins to feel ill, please notify Mayumi or me. We’re both trained first aiders so will be able to help you.’

Kimiko leaned towards Shoichi, ‘I wonder how they get people down from the mountain if they need to?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘There’s some sort of stretcher that they use which literally slides down the side of the mountain until they get to one of the stations where more medical assistance can be given,’ Shoichi replied. ‘You’re not beginning to worry about me again are you? I’ll be fine.’

‘No, not worrying, just curious,’ Kimiko answered, not entirely truthfully as she knew that Shoichi did, on occasion, push himself too hard and that a stubborn streak would make him determined to get to the top, regardless of how he was feeling.

‘The plan is to hike from here at the fifth station for the next six hours which should take us up to the eighth station at about ten-thirty when we’ll have something to eat and then sleep for a few hours to let our bodies get used to the altitude,’ Megumi said. ‘We’ll then make our final ascent to the summit at three o’clock in the morning to arrive just before five o’clock, in time for the sunrise, weather permitting.’

Shoichi had begun to fiddle with the straps on his rucksack as he felt it was not sitting right on his back and hips. Kimiko looked across but refrained from saying anything to him.

‘Are we ready to go then?’ Megumi asked.

‘Yes,’ the group replied although there was a lack of enthusiasm in the voices as many were distracted thinking about the challenging task ahead of them.

‘Ummm, not so lively,’ Megumi said tilting her head theatrically to one side, frowning and pursing her lips in mock disappointment. ‘Are we ready to go?’

‘Yes!’ said the group again with noticeably more volume, realising that if they did not play along they would probably be asked for a third time.

‘Let’s go then!’ Megumi said punching the air. ‘If you have any questions about Fuji-san as we make our way up then please ask and I’ll try my best to answer.’

And so the procession began as the group of twenty slowly headed off along the still tarmacked track towards the torii shrine gate that signified the entrance to the mountain proper.

The weather had brightened up again whilst they had been listening to Megumi’s instructions, and although it was much cooler here than at lower altitude – they were already two thousand three hundred metres above sea-level – it was not so cool that they needed to worry about more than a couple of layers of clothing.

‘Here we go!’ Shochi said as he passed the shrine gate.

‘I’m really excited,’ Kimiko said, looking around her taking in the view whilst she still had the energy to do so. ‘I can’t believe we’ve never done this until now.’

‘Just look at that,’ Shoichi said as he pointed towards a vast expanse of countryside now visible as they had walked past a dense copse of trees that had prevented them from being able to appreciate the scenery below.

In the distance, there were clouds that were forming at the same level at which they were walking and gazing down on the fields, roads and cities was like being in an aeroplane as it takes off into the sky making everything look like tiny scale models.

‘I didn’t realise how high up we were already,’ said Kimiko. ‘I feel a bit giddy!’

‘Can you imagine how small it’s all going to look once we get right to the top?’ Shoichi said.

Looking back, they realised that only Mayumi was walking behind them as they had slipped to the rear of the group, distracted by their sightseeing.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Mayumi said.

‘Unbelievably so,’ Kimiko replied. ‘I suppose we’d better pick up our pace to catch up with the others.’

‘There really is no rush so don’t worry,’ Mayumi said. ‘Please take your time.’

For the next thirty minutes, they got into a rhythm and the crunch of volcanic rock put Shoichi and Kimiko into something of a trance as they walked on and up the mountain. The pathways were very clearly marked out and ahead of them were group after group of climbers trudging their way towards the promise of the most beautiful sunset they had ever seen. In a matter of minutes, the sunshine had been replaced by light drizzle as they were effectively walking through a cloud that had blown into Fuji-san as it crossed the sky. The temperature also dropped noticeably.

‘I think that now would be a good time to take a break,’ Megumi shouted back. ‘Please move over to the right hand side of the track to let other climbers through.’

Rucksacks were removed from backs and the muffled sound of zips followed as everyone used the opportunity to take on some fluids and put on wet-weather gear. Kimiko noticed that Mayumi had put her foot into a small plastic bag before sliding it through her waterproof trousers and was impressed with the apparent effectiveness of such a simple idea.

‘Look what Mayumi-san has done to get her trousers on,’ she said to Shoichi, indicating with a nod of her head over to where Mayumi sat. ‘What a great idea, I’m going to give it a try.’

‘I’m not sure that’s going to work,’ Shoichi said doubtfully as he struggled to push his left boot through the opening in his trousers. ‘It’s just a case of rolling the trouser leg up and then carefully putting your foot through.’

However, Kimiko was already copying Mayumi and was even more impressed when her foot slid effortlessly through the trouser leg without depositing any of Fuji-san’s red gravel on the inside. In another twenty seconds she was done.

‘It really works,’ she said to Shoichi and loud enough for Mayumi to also hear.

‘Really? I might give it a try next time,’ he said before almost falling over as his other boot snagged on the elastic at the bottom of his right trouser leg.

Once he had regained his balance and composure, Shoichi then removed from his rucksack one of the bottles of water which was no longer frozen but nicely chilled and took a few small mouthfuls to quench his thirst without drinking too much. As the guidebook had said, Better to take lots of small sips of water and keep yourself evenly hydrated rather than getting dehydrated and then having to drink lots in one go.

‘Would you like some water, Kimiko?’ he asked holding out the bottle to her.

‘Yes I would, thanks,’ Kimiko said as she reached out to take the drink and had a couple of short pulls on the sports cap. ‘Ahhh, much better!’

Setting off again, Kimiko pulled her hood over her head whilst Shoichi opted for a waterproof wide-brimmed hat to keep himself dry. A further twenty minutes of gentle hiking brought them to the sixth station which was comprised of a small shop, the Mount Fuji Safety Guidance Centre and some toilets which cost one hundred yen to use.

‘How is everybody doing?’ asked Megumi. ‘I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves so far. We are going to have a quick break here and for those of you who need to get some more food and drink, I advise that you buy it now because it will be double the price at the next station.’

‘I’m going to use the facilities,’ Shoichi said, ‘as I expect that those will also double in price by the seventh station.’

Itterasshai ‘Off you go!’ Kimiko said cheerfully.

As Shoichi walked off, she took the chance to sit down and relax taking in the view two thousand four hundred metres in the sky. As before, everything was so small although the scale of the miniaturisation was about the same as when she first glimpsed at it from the fifth station; it was still possible to see traffic moving along the roads and smoke rising from factory chimneys. 

Life still went on even though she was up here taking some time out from a world where advancements in technology served only to drive expectations to do more and more each day. It seemed that spending time doing nothing in particular was now frowned upon. Why sit around when you could be updating your status, tweeting your thoughts or checking the weather that was already there in front of you, if only you took the time to look up from the screen?

‘Well that was an expensive pee!’ exclaimed Shoichi on his return. ‘I didn’t even really need to go so don’t feel like I got my money’s worth.’

‘Delightful, Shoichi,’ Kimiko said. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me.’

‘You’re welcome. Ready to go?’ said Shoichi, who seemed to have caught his second wind.

As they stood up to face the next stage of the journey, both Kimiko and Shoichi seemed pleased that they would be walking along what looked like an almost flat trail that was bordered by wild flowers, such as the fuji-hatazao birthday flower with its delicate white petals that grew in small bunches and murasaki-momenzuru purple flowers that bloomed in groups of twenty from plants that had prehistoric looking fronds rather than leaves.   

‘This really is quite pleasant,’ Kimiko said.

‘Yes, it is and nowhere near as tough on my legs as I expected it to be,’ Shoichi added.

For the next twenty-five minutes, they wound their way backwards and forwards moving slowly up the side of the mountain. Fuji-san’s gentle incline then changed quite dramatically to what, from a distance, looked like rock climbing.

As if anticipating their thoughts of trepidation, Megumi began to speak again. 

‘Don’t worry about the next bit. It looks much worse than it really is. Although you’ll feel like we are slowing down, for the next forty-five minutes or so, we’ll be making really good progress and if you look carefully towards the top of this next section you will see the seventh station.’

There was a bottle-neck and, for the first time since they had set off, the group found that they had to wait for others to scramble up and over the rocks before their turn arrived.

‘We’ll need to be careful here,’ Shoichi began thinking out loud. ‘I’m sure that plenty of people have sprained their ankles on this bit and then it’s all over.’

‘Seems pretty steep to me despite what Megumi just said,’ Kimiko added.

Looking up at the next phase of the climb, the rainbow of colours from the wet weather gear of those slightly ahead of them contrasted nicely against the reddish-grey of the rocks and looked like the multi-coloured tail of a kite as it rose into the sky. 

After about ten minutes spent waiting patiently – it would have been sooner if it were not for smaller groups of foreign climbers pushing in acting oblivious to the queuing system – the group’s turn had arrived. About halfway up, they paused for a rest.

‘Wow!’ said Shoichi, breathing heavily. ‘This is a good work out. I had no idea it would be this tough. From everything I have read it is the endurance of hiking for long periods and the altitude that’s the challenge of Fuji-san not the gradient of the climb.’‘It’s pretty slippery as well,’ Kimiko said. ‘Although did you notice that young lady in our group wearing jikatabi? I thought that she was going to struggle but look how fast she’s moved. Seems that her footwear has given her more grip rather than less.’

Overall it took them just under an hour to get to the seventh station and was about has hard as Kimiko and Shoichi had experienced in their time climbing mountains. A couple of people in their group had slipped on their way up and one rather elderly gentleman ended up banging his knee quite badly so that it had to be iced once they reached the next rest point.

‘Phew, that was tough,’ said Kimiko as she stretched out her calf muscles which had been used extensively pushing up from one rock to the next.

‘I think that the guide books should be more honest,’ Shoichi said. ‘None that I have read mentions this part of the climb. Many people like to bring their children to Fuji-san and I’m not sure that the last section was suitable at all for any child under about ten years old.’

Any mention of children by Shoichi was still painful for Kimiko who had desperately wanted to become a mother, especially as she had enjoyed such a close bond with Okāsan. Early in their marriage, they had tried for children but after three years, one phantom pregnancy and two first trimester miscarriages, they both agreed that it was time to seek more specialist medical advice. Having provided samples to a local fertility clinic in Ōfunato they had found out that not only was Shoichi’s sperm count low for a man of his age, but also that Kimiko  had polycystic ovary syndrome, a hormonal imbalance that affects the development and release of eggs during ovulation, and one of the leading causes of female sub-fertility. The Happy Parent Centre was only able to offer IVF treatment which would have been dangerous for Kimiko and so referred them to a larger hospital in Sendai which was where they met Endo-sensei a renowned fertility consultant who had spent much of his professional life at a hospital in Oxford, England working with a pioneering technique called IVM or in-vitro maturation.  Rather than using a high dosage of fertility drugs to mature eggs in the ovaries’ follicles, IVM treatment takes immature eggs from the ovaries and matures them in a laboratory before being fertilised.

Nevertheless, after six emotionally and physically draining unsuccessful cycles, Kimiko and Shoichi made the very difficult decision not to continue any further. Kimiko had cried non-stop for two days and Shoichi was concerned that this set back was going to test their marriage to breaking point. However, on the contrary, rather like the common focal point that children bring to a relationship, this shared extreme disappointment served only to make them stronger; although hard to accept that they would not have any children it was an experience that they had been through together.

‘I would think that children would be far better equipped to scale these rocks than us,’ Kimiko said fighting back a stinging sadness as tears formed in her eyes. ‘Just think of their energy. I’m sure that I was passed by at least three young children just now who bounded up without a care in the world.’

The seventh station was a small collection of buildings huddled together on the mountainside to keep warm like the Japanese monkeys in the trees found in the ancient forests around the holy shrines and temples at Nikkō. At the front of one of the huts was a small veranda with a few tables and chairs that overlooked the waterfall of rocks that they had just scaled. Outside the buildings were handwritten signs advertising the food and drink on offer although this mountainside oligopoly meant that prices were exactly the same whichever one caught your eye.

‘Well done, everybody,’ said Megumi who had barely broken sweat. ‘We are going to rest here for about twenty minutes to let people catch their breath and recharge for the next section of the climb to the eighth station where we will rest for the night. I’ve arranged with the owner of Cafe Rikyū for us all to have some green tea and oshiruko. It’s pretty tight in there so please remove your rucksacks before entering.’

Inside Cafe Rikyū, it was dark and the décor was functional. The wooden building looked like it was at least forty years old, maybe more, but this leant a homely and warm feel to the place rather than somewhere in need of maintenance. Despite what Megumi had said, there was more space than one would expect looking at it from the outside and along the left hand side of the room from floor to ceiling stood a simple wooden rack of four levels and into which they placed their rucksacks to keep them out of the way whilst seated at one of the three long tables that ran across the width of the building. At the back of the hut was a wide hatch through to a small kitchen from where the warming smell of the sweet red bean soup drifted out. The table that was furthest from the doorway and closest to the kitchen had a handwritten reserved sign placed upon it and it was to this table that the group was directed by Megumi and Mayumi.

As they began to sit down, a lady looked across from the kitchen and greeted them.

 ‘Welcome! Congratulations on making it this far!’ she said automatically but with feeling before recognising their guide. ‘Megumi-chan, it’s been a while. How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Keiko-san. How are you?’

‘Oh not too bad considering the tricky commute I have to and from work each day!’ Keiko replied and then laughed at her joke which was a well-used but still satisfying retort. ‘How many do you have with you this time?’

‘There are twenty-two of us, including Mayumi and me,’ Megumi said.

‘OK, twenty-two of the tastiest bowls of oshiruko coming up!’

As Keiko got to work in the kitchen lining up and ladling out the sweet bean soup over mochi rice balls, Shoichi was removing his jacket as the heat from the kitchen and from the other people sitting in close proximity was making him sweat.

‘It’s pretty hot in here, isn’t it?’ he asked Kimiko.

‘Yes, I suppose it is a little,’ she agreed. ‘Although it was getting cold outside even with the physical exertion of the climb.’

‘I expect that we’ll have to put on an extra layer for the ascent to the eighth station,’ Shoichi said. ‘The sun is going down and we’re four hundred metres higher up that when we left the fifth station.’

‘And the eighth station is about another three hundred metres up from here by the looks of it,’ Kimiko added as she pointed towards a map of their route stuck to the wall above the kitchen’s serving hatch.

‘It’s ready!’ Keiko announced as she handed out the steaming hot bowls of oshiruko which Megumi and Mayumi took and served to the group.

Itadakimasu ‘Bon appétit,’ Kimiko said as she broke apart some disposable chopsticks and lifted the wooden bowl to her lips taking a cautious sip of the deep crimson liquid in case it was too hot. 

‘Ah, it’s delicious! Such a perfect sweetness and just what my body needs after all that climbing.’‘I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so tired, but this is one of the best bowls of oshiruko I think I’ve ever tasted,’ Shoichi said having taken a sip and slurped one of the mochi into his mouth which he chewed slowly.

As the conversation dropped off, Cafe Rikyū was awash with the sound of hungry hikers polishing off their bowls of soup and then drinking the green tea that had been served in the meantime. In the kitchen Keiko stood with a satisfied look on her face; she had been making oshiruko for Fuji-san tourists for the last twenty years and hoped that she would continue to do so for at least twenty more.

***

Can’t wait to find out what happens next?


Washing Over Me is available as a download for Kindle or as a printed paperback, both from Amazon:


Kindle Version – Amazon UK
Paperback – Amazon UK
Kindle Version – Amazon US
Paperback – Amazon US

Or search for “Washing Over Me Benjamin Brook” from your country’s Amazon homepage.

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Japan, Uncategorized, Writing

Washing Over Me: Chapter 12

第十二章

11 March 2011 10:30

The walk outside in the sunshine was just what I needed to clear my head and get ready for the next lesson which was Japanese. Kinoshita-sensei wanted us to practice our kanji characters and to help we would be writing them using traditional ink and fude calligraphy brushes. I went to get my writing set from the cupboard at the back of the classroom whilst two volunteers gathered up sheets of newspaper onto which we would practise until it was time to write on the thin washi paper that would be hung around the classroom to dry once complete.

‘OK, class 4-A, have you all got you brushes and ink ready?’ Kinoshita-sensei asked.

The class responded with a uniform Yes although this was followed by the voice of a boy called Rikimaru who sat close to the window.

‘I’m very sorry Kinoshita-sensei, I think that I have run out of ink,’ Rikimaru said holding up the empty bottle as evidence. 

‘It’s OK, Rikimaru-kun, don’t worry,’ Kinoshita-sensei reassured him. ‘Does anyone have any spare ink that they can lend to Rikimaru for today’s lesson?’

On account of him not being a particularly popular boy, the offers were not immediately forthcoming although I felt sorry for him so put up my hand.

‘He can use some of my ink, Kinoshita-sensei,’ I said.

‘Thank you, Kimiko-chan. Rikimaru-kun, could you come and get Kimiko’s ink bottle once she has finished?’ Kinoshita-sensei suggested.‘Hai!’ came the solitary affirmative reply from Rikimaru who, stood up and, with head down embarrassed about the attention he had brought upon himself, started to make his way across the classroom.

I loved the smell of the ink that we used for shūji and savoured the moment as I removed the blue cap from the bottle and squeezed gently as the deep rich black liquid flowed into the suzuri ink stone. I had watched Okāsan doing calligraphy at home and she still favoured the traditional way of making the ink using a stick that was gently ground into the water held at the deep end of the stone until it was the same thick consistency as the pre-mixed type in front of me. The smell was very pure and natural, almost earthy, which I guessed was because the soot used to make the ink was itself made from living things that had been squashed for millions of years underground.

‘Thank you very much,’ Rikimaru said as he took the ink bottle that I was holding out to him. ‘I’ll bring a new bottle next time and you can use some of my ink.’

‘Don’t worry, Rikimaru,’ I said. ‘I’ve only just opened this one so there’s plenty left.’

I knew that if his mother found out about him having to borrow from me, she would probably replace the small amount of ink I had just given to him with an entire bottle but I hoped that he didn’t mention it to her as I really didn’t want her to go to such trouble.

I finished my preparations by placing a felt mat under the piece of practice newspaper and then laying a paper-weight across the top to keep it firmly in place.

‘The kanji that we are going to be practising today are minato as we are going to be visiting the port later on this afternoon and yō as we will be able to see the ocean from there,’ Kinoshita-sensei explained.

On the blackboard, he drew the characters for port 港 and ocean 洋 making a point of talking us through the order of the strokes that we needed to follow as well as the importance of the shape at the start and finish of each of the lines, which was more difficult for him to do with chalk than it would be with the fude brush.

‘OK, children, now it’s your turn to try,’ Kinoshita-sensei said. ‘Don’t forget to take your time and move the brush in a single flowing stroke. Think of the character that you are writing and try to put some of your thoughts into the lines and the overall shape. Oh, and don’t overload your brushes with ink or they will drip.’

I checked that my paper was nice and straight and then picked up the fude in my right hand holding it close to vertical as we had been taught to do. Concentrating, I dipped the tip into the liquid that had pooled at the bottom of the stone and watched as the ink moved slowly up the bristles and turned them from greyish-brown to night-sky black. I then withdrew the brush and lightly pushed the end down on the flatter end of the ink stone and watched as the excess ink streamed down the slope of the stone to pool again at the bottom.

I thought of the port, of the concrete, of the ships, of the metal containers and took a couple of breaths to prepare myself. Then, as best as I could, I lifted the brush over the paper and started with the three strokes on the left-hand side called mizu-hen or water radical  氵 the third stroke with an upwards movement leaving a tail that got narrower as I lifted the brush off the paper. The next group of six strokes  共 formed the top right hand part of the kanji and was written in an across-down-down-across movement followed by diagonally down the to the left and then diagonally down to the right. Finally was the onore part 已 that finished off the character with three further strokes and an upwards flick right at the end. I looked at what I had just written and was pretty pleased with the results. I had always been good at learning kanji and was enjoying writing the characters in this way.

‘Kimiko-chan, that’s looking very good,’ Kinoshita-sensei praised me. ‘Just take care not to make the final stroke too long at the bottom or you’ll upset the overall balance of the character.’ 

He took his teacher’s brush and, using some light orange ink, wrote over my character as if it wasn’t there to show me how my lines compared with his. 

‘Can you see the difference?’

‘Yes, I can. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Now keep practising.’

I wrote the character for minato about ten more times on newspaper before deciding that it was accurate enough to write on the washi paper. Going through the same ritual, I tried to let my mind go clear and not think too much about what I was doing so that my hand could move by remembering the strokes that I had drawn previously. It felt good and the brush moved across the paper taking little jumps like an ice skater to show distinction between the different parts of the character. Having completed this, I wrote my name on the left hand side of the paper using the hiragana phonetic script; my parents when they gave me the name Kimiko, itself rather old-fashioned and popular in the 1920s, did not want to use any kanji as they held the view that by giving meaning to my name people would make judgements about the type of person I was before they had even met me.‘How is everyone getting on?’ asked Kinoshita-sensei. ‘Have you all finished writing minato? If you have, then please hang up your sheets to dry and make a start on yō.’

I went through the same process for the next character and found myself completely zoning out from everyone else in the classroom. Writing kanji this way was like meditation, which is just how Okāsan had described it when I asked her why she continued to practise at home even though she knew her kanji and was no longer studying. As she put it, ‘I like to clear my mind every once in a while and concentrate on one specific thing without the clutter of everyday concerns such as what to cook for dinner, paying the gas bill and remembering to talk with our neighbour about that tree that is growing through the fence.’

Over by the window, Rikimaru gave a shout and as I looked across I saw he had spilt his ink and that it had spread over his paper like a wave breaking on the beach.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he said slapping his palm down onto the desk. ‘That was my best go yet and now look at it. Completely ruined.’

‘Can somebody get me some paper towels please?’ Kinoshita-sensei requested before saying to Rikimaru, ‘Don’t worry, these things happen.’

One of the other boys in the class brought a small stack of paper towels over to Rikimaru’s desk and started to help Kinoshita-sensei mop up the spilt ink.

‘Sumimasen,’ said Rikimaru apologising for causing a commotion.

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing. Have you got any on your clothes?’ Kinoshita-sensei asked.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Rikimaru said as he inspected his lap and sleeves for signs of stray ink.

‘Right, that’s all done. Let’s throw away these sheets of paper and you can keep going.’

Panic over, everyone got their heads down for the remaining ten minutes before we had to stop to wash out brushes, throw away practice sheets and pack everything away.By the time the chime played, all the sheets of paper hung around the classroom demonstrating our hard work. Kinoshita-sensei’s choice of kanji was clever as it only served to heighten our excitement about the trip after lunch.

***

…now that’s more like it…

…half of my head is out…

…got to be easier from here on in…

…no sign of him yet…

…this’ll be a surprise when he returns from wherever the hell he is…

…not that I care…

…as long as he stays away for long enough…

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Japan, Uncategorized, Writing

Washing Over Me: Chapter 9

第九章

25 August 2075

As the train glided into Ueno station hovering on its electro-magnetic track, Shoichi’s wristwatch vibrated again to indicate that he needed to change lines. Den-Den thanked customers leaving the Jōban line, reminded them not to leave anything on the train and wished them a happy, healthy and safe onward journey.

Shoichi stepped down from the train and headed off in the direction of the Yamanote line following the overhead signs rather than the under-floor lighting he had used when returning the night before. He could feel his stomach rumbling gently as he walked and he thought to himself that the light breakfast he had eaten that morning was not going to sustain him for the duration of his visit to the hospital. 

There was a variety of restaurants tucked into the most unimaginably small spaces serving everything from food substitute shakes to more traditional handmade soba and udon noodles for those looking to remember a time when the pace of life was much slower and eating was more about a balance of different foods rather than living off custom-made cocktails of lab-produced nutrients that gave you exactly what you needed to maintain a healthy diet.

Choosing nostalgia over convenience, Shoichi ducked under the noren of a noodle restaurant, having perused from outside the plastic reconstructions of the dishes on offer – even these were evocative of a world gone by as many establishments had long since replaced plastic models with virtual images viewed through digital spectacles – and waited by the entrance to be seated. Despite his seventy-six years, he was still relatively young compared to the rest of the customers in the restaurant, some who looked like they had already passed a century of life on the planet, a not unusual occurrence as the average life expectancy in Japan currently stood at ninety-three for men and ninety-seven for women.

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ a waitress greeted him with a bow. ‘How many of you will be dining with us today?’

‘Just me, thank you.’

‘Please come this way.’

He was led to a seat by the window at the front of the restaurant and sat down at a small square table made out of solid pine. Laid on the table was a paper place mat embossed with the flowing kanji of the name of the restaurant, Hana, and a rather beautiful print of a watercolour painting of a salmon pink garbella. The waitress brought him a glass of water heavily filled with ice and a hand towel that was rolled up and placed on a shallow lacquered tray.

‘Are you ready to order, sir?’ she asked.

‘Please give me a few more minutes to have a look at the menu,’ Shoichi replied. ‘It all appeared so delicious when I was having a look at the display in the window and I’m struggling to decide.’

‘Very well, sir. Once you’re ready, please press this button and I’ll come straight back,’ she said and walked off to clear some dishes away from another table.

Shoichi scanned the menu in case there was something on there that he had not noticed when looking at the plastic food from outside. He was torn between ordering zaru-ten soba cold buckwheat noodles served with tempura king prawn and vegetables or the hot kitsune-udon noodles that came with Japanese onions and deep-fried tofu. In the end he decided to go for the soba as he thought that this dish would provide him with more sustenance and would mean that he could get a light snack later that evening for dinner. Taking a sip of the water, he leaned across the table to press the call button that was set in a domed wood-effect plastic container. The satisfying click triggered an electronic bell that rang just above the entrance to the kitchen.

The food was beautifully presented; buckwheat noodles curled into mouthful-sized portions and laid on a bamboo mat that sat on top of a deep tray into which the excess water drained. The dipping sauce was in a glass bowl that had a swirl of white running through it and the tempura, arranged on folded white blotting paper, was served in a woven bamboo strip basket, accompanied by a thumb-sized pile of grated daikon white radish.

The taste had not disappointed and once Shoichi started to eat, he then realised quite how hungry he had been and tucked into the meal with some gusto. Not holding back, he started with the noodles, immersing them into the chilled dipping sauce before pulling them into his mouth three slurps at a time. Having set a fast pace, he consciously slowed down but nevertheless, in just fifteen minutes, had cleared every plate in front of him, put the disposable chopsticks back down on their rest and sat back in his chair savouring the tastes lingering on his palette before washing them away with a final mouthful of his water which by now had just chips of ice floating on the surface.

The restaurant had begun to fill up as more travellers filtered in to have some food. It was also the beginning of the lunchtime visits from those working in the many shops that existed in this underground world.

Shoichi pressed the call button again and asked for the bill which, rather quaintly, was printed out from the same device used earlier to input his order. The restaurant was happy to take paper money – all part of the authentic traditional dining experience – but Shoichi opted to pay by waving his wallet into the payment field that existed around the till area. He noticed that there was even a soroban abacus for calculating how much change to give customers although he wondered how long it had been since anyone had actually carried out a cash transaction in this restaurant, or across the whole of Japan for that matter.

Moving through the station towards the Yamanote line, he used the escalator to get up to the platform and bought himself a can of ulon cha to take with him to drink on the train. The floor-to-ceiling glass partitions that had been installed to minimise suicide attempts meant that the platforms had become partially enclosed areas and therefore could be climate controlled, making waiting for a train a more comfortable experience no matter what the weather. He sat down on a bench and enjoyed the sensation of the cold can of tea pressed against the inside of his wrist.

The remainder of the journey to Ikebukuro passed uneventfully except for when an elderly lady took umbrage with a teenage girl who did not give up her seat. The teenager was not expecting such a verbal assault from the cantankerous woman whose sharp tongue more than made up for her weakened body which was almost bent double at the waist.

Once the train had come to a halt at his station, he stepped off, walked down the stairs and exited onto the street which was busy with taxis, bicycles and, he noted, a large number of people walking around laden like pack horses with bags full of the evidence of their morning’s shopping.

Taking a slightly different route to the one he had used late the night before, Shoichi soon reached the University Hospital and walked across the site to the Nakamura ward. The main glass doors at the entrance slid open as he approached and Shoichi walked directly to the reception to collect the visitor smart-stamp that would afford him access to the communal parts of the hospital and, most importantly, the room where he hoped Kimiko was making some progress in her recovery.

The lights were on low and the windows set to an opacity that prevented too much sunlight coming through. It was cool compared to outside, cooler even than within the hospital which felt humid. Kimiko lay there serenely, resting with her head supported by a stack of soft pillows, motionless beneath the sheet that covered her body. As before, machines continued to blink and beep supporting her life whilst her brain stem was unable to carry out the vital job of regulating breathing, heart rate, blood pressure and body temperature. The distraction of the journey and having a morning that had some semblance or normality were forgotten as he was back here by Kimiko’s side hoping that today was going to be the day that something changed.

‘Konnichiwa, Kimiko-chan,’ Shoichi said as he stroked her hair with the back of his fingers.

‘Well, that watch you bought me for my retirement saved me last night as I fell asleep on the train on the way home and would have surely gone to the end of the line if it hadn’t awoken me in time,’ he added.

‘I was fast asleep and having a dream about travelling in space, you know like they are advertising now in all the travel agents. Forget Hawaii, make your next holiday a trip that gets you closer to the real stars.

The air pressure in the room changed momentarily as the seal around the door was broken, pushed open by Aoyagi-sensei who was the doctor overseeing Kimiko’s treatment. A young lady, not many years out of medical school but who had already established a sound reputation amongst the medical faculty and was quickly developing into something of a pioneer in coma treatment research and care techniques.

‘Good afternoon, Tanaka-san,’ she greeted Shoichi. ‘I’m pleased to see you here again today.’

‘Good afternoon, Aoyagi-sensei,’ Shoichi replied before asking rather directly. ‘Has there been any improvement overnight in Kimiko’s condition?’

‘Well, as you know, this is going to be a slow process and your wife is still in the phase of the coma where her body has completely shut down to allow her brain to do some deep healing,’ she said.

There was a look of disappointment on Shoichi’s face. He knew that there was every chance that nothing would have changed in the relatively short time he was away from her bedside.

‘However,’ Aoyagi-sensei continued, ‘I was looking at the brain activity charts earlier and at about one o’clock this morning the machines picked up a very slight change in the magnetic field around the hippocampus part of the brain which could have been caused by some electrical activity.’

It was the glimmer of hope that Shoichi had been looking for and he pounced. ‘So, is she finally beginning to recover?’

‘I think that it is too early to begin to draw such strong conclusions as we do sometimes pick up changes to the brain’s magnetic field that are not directly related to brain activity although I am hopeful that this could be the start of something positive,’ she asserted. ‘The hippocampus is the part of the brain that helps with memory formation, organisation and storage, connecting other senses such as sound and smell to these memories. Ordinarily, we would expect to observe early signs of activity in the brain stem as the subconscious actions such as breathing and beating of our hearts recommence but I have seen some evidence recently published that suggests other deep-functioning areas of the brain can repair earlier than the stem.’

‘So how quickly will the other parts start to work again?’ Shoichi asked in anticipation, eager for more good news.

‘It really is on a case-by-case basis and I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up although this is a good sign,’ Aoyagi-sensei said. ‘Please feel free to stay with your wife as long as you like. And don’t forget to keep talking to her. If there are some memories being reconstructed inside the hippocampus then talking about anything to do with her past could help.’

‘Thank you doctor,’ Shoichi said with a bow towards Aoyagi-sensei who left the room.

‘Did you hear that Kimiko? Aoyagi-sensei thinks that your brain has started to come to life again. I wonder if you can hear what I am saying?’ he said, slightly self-conscious that he was probably just talking to himself.

However, as suggested by the doctor, Shoichi reflected on the many wonderful moments that they had spent together in their lives. He settled on one trip that remained special to him, when, for their fifteenth wedding anniversary, they travelled south from Ōfunato to take a short break in Yamanashi Prefecture which started with a hike to the top of Mount Fuji.

***

The alarm went off at just after four o’clock in the morning, although he was so excited about finally climbing up Fuji-san – a lifelong dream – that there was no danger of him oversleeping. In fact, he had laid on his futon for the last forty-five minutes wondering how much longer before he could get up and start the final preparations for their trip. The alarm had come as a relief and he pushed back the light blanket and rolled on his front before easing himself up to a standing position. Kimiko was still sleeping and he left her that way as they did not need to leave the house for another hour.

Gently sliding open the door from the tatami room, he slipped through into the living area and pulled the cord hanging from the square lampshade made of paper and wood that was positioned in the centre of the ceiling. It was another hot August morning and he took the remote control from its clip on the wall, pointed it at the ageing air conditioner mounted to the left of the French windows and pressed the orange rubber button to turn it on. He thought to himself that he should really get around to changing the filter as the first few litres of air that were pulled through the unit smelled musty.

On the low kotatsu heated table, were the two twenty-five litre day rucksacks that he had packed meticulously the night before, using as a guide the suggested inventory provided by the travel agency through which the trip had been booked. Although there was no chance that anything he had put in there with his own hands merely hours earlier would have been removed or fallen out, he still took it upon himself to unpack and repack one more time. At the bottom of the rucksack was a pair of wet-weather trousers and jacket with a spare pair of wool walking socks in case the ones he was going to be wearing got worn or damp. In a draw string bag, he had placed plasters, talcum powder, muscle spray, painkillers and some anti-bacterial handwash. This bag sat upon the items already in the rucksack.

He then carefully folded a fleece jumper that would, the guidebook had said, be invaluable once they reached the summit of Fuji-san in the early hours of the morning. Although it was exceeding thirty-five degrees Celsius at sea level, temperatures fell to a much cooler  fifteen to twenty degrees at the Yoshidaguchi fifth station from where they would start their ascent and could drop to below freezing at the three-thousand-seven-hundred-metre high summit. On top of the fleece he placed a head-mounted light for the early morning part of the hike. Shoichi re-checked that he also had his energy bars, energy drinks and salted onigiri rice balls that would see him and Kimiko through what he anticipated was going to be a tougher hike than many of the other trips they had been on together. In the side pockets of the rucksack, he had stuffed a pair of white gloves dimpled with yellow rubber for grip and three folded plastic bags.

Finally, was a small coin purse containing a plentiful supply of hundred-yen coins for the toilets that got more expensive the higher you go.

He repeated this task with Kimiko’s rucksack, zipped up the pockets, fastened the clips and put the two bags by the front door next to their walking boots and walking poles. Fully satisfied that preparations were complete, Shoichi heated some water on the gas stove and made himself some green tea from leaves given to him by a work colleague who had recently been on a short trip to Shizuoka Prefecture.

From the tatami room, he could hear Kimiko stirring and the gentle click as she pulled the light cord confirmed that she was awake. A few minutes later, she emerged from the room dressed in walking clothes and smoothing down the hair that was sticking up stubbornly from the night’s sleep.

‘Good morning,’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘How long have you been awake for?’

‘Ah, ohayō. Not long,’ he replied looking up at the clock that was on the wall above the television. ‘About thirty minutes.’

‘Too excited to sleep, eh?’

‘Not really, just worried that I hadn’t packed everything we are going to need,’ Shoichi said in a clipped tone.

‘And so you’ve unpacked and repacked everything again, I bet,’ Kimiko said, teasing him further now that she had a bite.

Shoichi coloured slightly as he felt embarrassed but equally defensive about his obsessive approach to preparation. 

‘Well, like I said, I wanted to make sure that we were ready,’ he added before taking a sip from his mug.

‘Is that green tea you’re drinking?’ Kimiko asked peering towards the kitchen counter. ‘Pour me a cup will you, please.’

Shoichi reheated the water in the kettle to just below boiling point and poured, from height, the water on top of the green tea leaves that were in a metal mesh basket that sat on the rim of the teapot. The water made a slapping sound as it landed on the leaves and slowly percolated through to the bottom.

‘So, we’ve got to leave by five o’clock at the latest, is there much more that you need to do to get ready?’ Shoichi said as he poured out a cup of tea for Kimiko.

‘Just calm down, there’s plenty of time.’ Kimiko said shaking her head in disbelief and trying not to get too irritated by his impatience. ‘Let me finish this tea and then all I have to do is have a quick wash, clean my teeth and sort out this hair.’‘OK, well I’m going to pack the things in the car while you do that,’ Shoichi said walking past her towards the genkan where their equipment awaited his further attention.

Kimiko shook her head as Shoichi opened the front door and started to carry their things out to the electric car that they would be using for the short drive to the Ōfunato East Community Centre car park from where they would get a coach to Yamanashi Prefecture. He had become more uptight and then had mellowed slightly in the time that they had been married but always seemed to get a little stressed by the preparations for anything more involved than a short drive to the shops. Kimiko could never fully understand why because, as she had always maintained, as long as they had their wallets with them, there was very little that they couldn’t pick up on the way or even once they had arrived at their destination.

The brass bell hanging from the arm of the closing mechanism on the front door rang as Shoichi came back inside for the second wave of loading up and rang again as the door closed behind him. Kimiko finished off her tea, placed the empty cup in the sink, and went through to the washroom to freshen up her face and sort out her hair. By the time she had finished, Shoichi was back in the kitchen washing up the cups and placing them on the drainer by the side of the sink.

‘Right, that’s everything packed,’ he announced. ‘Just the food and drinks and we’re ready to go!’

From the refrigerator, he took out the sandwiches that they had bought the previous night from a convenience store, together with a couple of cans of coffee. Placing these into an insulated bag, he then opened the door to the freezer and got out four five-hundred-millilitre bottles of water and added these to the same bag which he carried out to the car.

‘I’ll be waiting outside,’ Shoichi shouted back through to Kimiko.

‘OK then, I’ll lock up shall I?’ Kimiko muttered under her breath, although in reality she was far from annoyed. Once you’ve been married to someone for long enough you either learn to accept their faults or get so irritated by them that you get divorced.

She walked around their home checking that all the lights were out and windows locked before turning off the air conditioner. She then put on the trainers she would be wearing for comfort on the long coach journey there, pushed open the front door, stepped out and double locked it once it had swung shut.

Pulling into the community centre car park, just after a quarter past five, they were by far the first to arrive. Others booked on the same trip were already standing by the coach, which had also turned up early, and were starting to load their rucksacks into the luggage compartment underneath the main body of the vehicle.

‘Ohayō gozaimasu,’ Shoichi shouted to nobody in particular to announce their arrival. His greeting was returned by those whose hearing was still good enough to have caught his words.

‘And I thought that we had left the house in plenty of time,’ he muttered to Kimiko.

‘What does it matter? We’re here on time aren’t we?’

‘I just hope that we can get a decent seat as it’s a long journey to Yamanashi,’ Shoichi said as he craned his neck towards the coach to get a better look at how quickly it was filling up.

‘Don’t worry, even if we were the last of all the people here to get on the coach we’d still pretty much have our pick of the seats,’ Kimiko reassured him.

However, Shoichi already had his mind on other things and was unloading their kit from the boot of the car to carry over to the coach. Kimiko leaned back into the Toyota to tidy up a few stray bits of paper that she noticed were lying on the back seat and, without looking what they were, put them into the glove compartment. She then grabbed the cool bag that was stored in the footwell and shut the passenger door. Shoichi strode meaningfully back to the car.

‘Have you got the bag with the food and drink?’

‘Yes, it’s right here,’ Kimiko said before adding, ‘honey!’

The playful affection seemed somewhat lost on him as he took the bag from her and ushered Kimiko towards the steep steps that led up to seats.

Once they had sat down towards the back of the coach, Shoichi let out a sigh of relief as the preparations were no longer in his hands, the responsibility for something going wrong no longer his.

‘This is going to be a great trip, Kimiko,’ Shoichi said. ‘I just know it, and what better way to spend our wedding anniversary than climbing up Fuji-san…’ he then paused, turned to Kimiko and, taking her hand, added ‘…with my honey!’ A broad smile appeared on his face.

‘So you had been listening!’ Kimiko said as she drew herself towards Shoichi and placed her head on his chest. Shoichi reached his arm up and around the back of her head to run his fingers through her hair, which, he noticed, was not quite as flat as perhaps Kimiko had thought it was.

The rumble of the coach’s diesel engine disturbed this brief moment of intimacy and they were off.

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