I was cracking eggs in the kitchen one evening when I heard the front door open.
"I'm home, Komugi."
It was a faint, thin voice. Then came the pattering of Komugi thumping the floor with his tail. He's always the first to go greet people. Rubbing his big golden body hard against the residents' legs is part of his daily routine.
Ms. Nanase.
Amane Kashiwagi, forty-two. I'm the live-in house manager at Nightlight, a Taisho-era modern women-only share house. That said, all I really do is the meals, the cleaning, and repairs, so in short, I'm the one who minds the kitchen in this house.
Mahiru Nanase is a young woman who works in real estate sales; she'd told me she was in her second year at the company, I think. Every morning she curls her hair beautifully and heads off to work with her back held perfectly straight.
Today, that "I'm home" of Ms. Nanase's was a little different from usual.
I stopped what I was doing and looked toward the hall. I could see her back as she crouched, petting Komugi. She was petting him for a long time. She wasn't getting up. She stayed still, almost as if she were burying her face in his fur.
"Welcome home, Ms. Nanase."
When I spoke, Ms. Nanase looked up quickly.
"I'm home."
She was smiling. Her usual sales smile, perfectly in place. But the rims of her eyes were just slightly red. The area around her lashes looked damp. She'd hidden it with makeup, but a person who's spent a long time watching people's faces can somehow tell that kind of thing.
And her hands were empty.
"...You didn't pick anything up at the convenience store today."
"Huh?"
Ms. Nanase looked down at her hands and seemed a little surprised. Usually, she came home carrying a rice ball or a cup of instant noodles from the convenience store on the way. Today, she probably hadn't had the energy to buy even that. Empty-handed.
A day when you don't even have the energy to shop is usually a day when nothing good happened.
I didn't ask anything more. Not "What happened?" Being asked on a day you don't want to be asked is hard. I know that all too well.
"Good timing. Have a seat. It'll be ready in no time."
I lit one burner on the stove and took eggs out of the fridge.
On days like this, before any explanations, it's best to get something into her stomach first. When people brood on an empty stomach, they sink endlessly toward the dark. On the other hand, once something warm gets into the stomach, that alone can change the way the world looks a little.
It's a strange thing.
The pot simmered softly.
Ms. Nanase sat at the big dining table, watching me vacantly. At her feet, Komugi flopped down with a thud. That weight was probably on purpose. He likes to go to people who are feeling down. He's a smart dog.
When I dropped butter into the frying pan, it melted with a sizzle and gave off a lovely smell. I chopped onion and sautéed it with chicken. Added the rice, and swirled ketchup over it. The white rice turned a glossy red, sending up steam.
I glanced over at Ms. Nanase. Until a moment ago, her face had said she wasn't hungry at all. But somewhere around when the smell reached her, her throat moved, just slightly. She had her hand resting gently on her stomach. She might not have noticed it herself, but the body is honest.
She really was hungry. Proof that she was alive. And that was good.
I beat the eggs and poured them into the heated pan. The edges set with a sizzle. Shaking the pan in small motions, I drew the middle together with the tips of my cooking chopsticks.
"Eggs start to set at around sixty degrees, you know."
It came out of my mouth without my really meaning to teach her anything.
"That's why you can't do it all at once on high heat. You take it off the heat while it's still soft and runny. It's all about judging that moment."
Ms. Nanase watched my hands without saying anything. Intently. Maybe she wanted to keep her eyes on something, as if she were looking for somewhere to escape to. If so, she could watch for as long as she liked.
I slid the half-set egg onto the chicken rice. When I gently traced the middle with the back of my knife, the yellow skin split, and it flowed softly down both sides.
"Oh."
Ms. Nanase let out a small sound. It seemed to me that was the first time today I'd heard her real voice.
One red line of ketchup. Steam rising.
"Special omurice. Sorry to keep you waiting."
The steam wavered around Ms. Nanase's face. She was staring at the red line of ketchup. The hand holding her spoon still wasn't moving.
I thought her eyes had welled up again, just a little. Why, I wondered. She hadn't even taken a single bite yet.