Chapter 8 The Man Magnet’s Osechi #6
“How embarrassing! The appropriate thing to say would have been ‘Thank you’ or ‘I’m glad that you liked it.’ Knowing me, I probably got carried away because we had such a full house.” I shook my head, a bit ashamed.
“But to me your words were like a ray of light. It felt like they gave me the encouragement I needed.”
“Th-they were? How so?”
“Well, you made that curry yourself, yet you were talking as though someone else had made it. I realized that to you, the fact that you made it, and the fact that the curry tasted good, were two unrelated facts.”
Shiori-chan buried her reddened nose in her scarf.
“Sometimes, when you’re in love with someone, your feelings for that person gets buried under all this other stuff and you lose sight of it.
Even when you simply loved someone at the beginning, you start thinking about whether that person makes you a better person.
You start thinking about how you come across to others for being in love with that person.
Which is why, if you’re going to love someone, you want to choose someone that you can say you love without having to worry.
Before you can declare that you love something, you find yourself prioritizing what other people will think. That’s only normal.”
The light turned red, and we stopped at the crossing. I slipped my cold fingers out of my pockets and pressed the pedestrian push button.
“When I went to Amayadori, I was uncertain about my feelings for Fujimoto-kun. But after speaking to you and seeing how honest you were with your feelings, with your love…well, that was when I told myself that I would give Fujimoto-kun all the love I had inside of me, until I was completely drained of it. And that’s why I wanted to have a Funeral Committee meeting last night.
I thought that if I saw you again, maybe something would change. ”
“Shiori-chan…”
I’d never imagined that anyone would look at me in such a way. Seeing that I was too surprised to speak, Shiori-chan thumped me on the back.
“My point is, you’ll be fine, too, Momoko. Because you know how to protect your own love.”
A voice rang out from the signal, along with a rhythmical sound. The light had turned green.
“We’re nearly there, so I can walk on my own from here.”
With that, Shiori-chan scurried across. Once she got to the other side of the road, she turned around and waved her arm.
I threw the finely grated ginger and garlic into the pan. The moment they met the melting butter, a wonderful smell exploded through the café. Once the pan was hot enough, I added the sliced onions and spices. I inhaled deeply, really taking in the aroma.
“Done,” I said to myself.
Placing the lid over the pan, I extended my arms into a big stretch. It felt a little stuffy, so I opened the door, letting the crisp winter air fill up the café.
While the curry simmered, I idly sat at the counter and gazed at the interior of the café.
So much has happened…
My glance fell on the snow globes sitting on the display shelf—the ones that Iori, Hozumi, and I had made. Thanks to all the remnants of Kyohei I stuffed inside it, mine had discolored oddly.
“Hey, Momo-chan.”
The bell made the usual dull sound as Iori and Hozumi appeared through the door. It seemed that they had just returned after showering at home. Probably still hungover, Iori stepped inside the kitchen and drank some water languidly.
“Urgh. My head hurts. Was Shiori-chan all right this morning?”
“Something smells good,” Hozumi interrupted.
“You’re right. I could do with some food,” Iori agreed.
“You caught me,” I said.
Although I had planned on having the curry on my own, the three of us ended up eating together.
I arranged the plates and spoons on the counter. Thinking about it, having curry for breakfast on New Year’s Eve was kind of weird. But then again, we’d already had osechi on December 30, so it was too late to try to do things in the right order.
“Itadakimasu,” I said.
Iori and Hozumi were ravenous. They gobbled down the curry as though they hadn’t eaten in days.
“I swear, curry is the best hangover cure,” Iori said.
“Well, it does contain turmeric,” Hozumi pointed out.
“Smarty-pants.”
Their voices sounded far away. With a trembling hand, I picked up the spoon. I’d made and sampled this curry hundreds of times, yet my heart was racing.
When we were still together, I had called it the Kyohei curry.
It was a recipe I’d invented for Kyohei, a flavor that Kyohei loved.
It was a dish infused with so many memories, I couldn’t eat it without thinking of him.
And that was why I agreed to put it on the menu—I turned it into material for a good story in the hope that it would alleviate my pain.
But none of that matters anymore.
I made this curry for me.
I can’t leave it with Kyohei forever. I need to reclaim it.
I drank a glass of water to steady myself.
Then, plunging my spoon into the curry and rice, I scooped up half of each and thrust them into my mouth.
“Momoko?”
It wasn’t anything fancy. It hadn’t been slow-cooked over forty-eight hours, and it surely didn’t have the depth of the famous curry at the Imperial Hotel.
But still…
“Yum.”
I stuffed the curry and rice into my mouth, shoveling it all in, just as Iori and Hozumi had. The chicken, tenderized by the marinade of yogurt and spices, pulled apart effortlessly.
Devouring the dish in one go, I expelled a long breath. I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin.
“This curry,” I said. “It’s—”
—good, isn’t it?
Just before the words spilled from my lips, I stopped myself.
I had grown so accustomed to worrying about what the person I loved thought and felt. I longed to become who the person I loved wanted me to be. It was as if everything had to pass the “Kyohei test” first—I couldn’t say that I liked something unless I knew he liked it.
“Momoko? Is something wrong?”
I shook my head at Iori and Hozumi, who were looking at me, puzzled.
It’s time for my love to rest in peace.
Do you love me? Do you like my cooking? Will I be able to remain the same person you fell in love with?
I won’t be tempted to ask these questions anymore. It’s time to say goodbye to that version of me. I’ll be fine. I’ve given it my all. I’ve struggled and suffered. I’ve fought through life. I’m ready. I’m ready to say…
“This curry is so good. Seriously. It’s out of this world!”
When I said those words in a slightly quivering voice, Iori and Hozumi looked at each other and chuckled.
“Indeed, it’s good,” Iori said.
“It’s delicious,” Hozumi agreed.
The three of us headed to the kitchen to have more helpings of the world’s most delicious curry.
Under the morning light, a blanket of fresh snow shimmered ever so brightly.