Night.
I stood in the kitchen.
This was wagyu, after all. I'd considered saving it, for myself or for some special day—but I decided against it. Things like this taste best when everyone shares them around the table.
"Shall we have sukiyaki tonight?"
When I said that, the look in the residents' eyes changed.
I heated the iron pot and melted a lump of beef fat. The fat sizzled, and a savory smell rose up.
First, a single slice of meat. When I laid it on the hot iron, it hissed and shrank as if it were coming undone. The marbled fat melted at once, turning clear in the pot.
A scattering of sugar. A swirl of soy sauce. I didn't simmer it in a premixed sauce. First you sear it, then coat it, sweet and savory. That's my sukiyaki.
The sugar sizzled and caramelized, and a cloud of sweet, salty steam billowed up.
"Ugh, that smell is so unfair..."
Yume's nose twitched.
I dipped the seared meat in beaten egg.
"Here, the first slice. It's best right off the heat."
Yume timidly brought the meat to her mouth.
Her chopsticks stopped.
"...Wh-what is this?"
Eyes wide, she froze.
"It melted... The meat just disappeared in my mouth..."
Marbled fat melts away at the warmth of your mouth. The mellowness of the egg gently wraps the sweet-and-savory flavor.
"It's delicious..."
Yume said it with a face like a little kid's, the words just tumbling out. Her usual stylish, grown-up front had peeled away completely.
From there, it was war. Four pairs of chopsticks reached in as fast as I could cook the meat. In went the green onions, the grilled tofu, the shirataki noodles. When the liquid in the pot boiled down, I thinned it with sake and dashi.
Mahiru, back from visiting her family; Ms. Makabe, freshly off deadline; Rei, home right at quitting time—every one of them was absorbed in picking from the pot.
At my feet, Komugi let out the most heartrending whine in the world.
"This isn't for you, Komugi. I'll make you something proper later."
The floppy-eared dog snorted in protest, but gave up all the same and went back to his bed.
By the time everyone's stomachs were full.
Rei, tilting a glass of sake, spoke with feeling.
"Say, Mr. Manager. I've been wondering about this for a while."
"Yes?"
"Why is someone like you working as the manager of an old house like this? —That might be a rude way to put it. But you're probably someone who could do a far more amazing job in a far more amazing place, if you put your mind to it."
The living room went quiet. Everyone was waiting for my answer.
I slowly tilted my own glass.
"...I was in an amazing place once," I said quietly.
"There was all sorts of everything. The finest ingredients, orders from all over the world. People called for me by the second. I thought, 'I'm needed.'"
"Mm."
"But one day, I just got sick of all of it. For some reason, I felt like I wasn't a person anymore, just a convenient tool. I lost track of who I was cooking for."
I stared at the sake in my glass.
"I ran away. Pathetically. And while I was collapsed by the road, Tomi took me in. With one bowl of plain white rice porridge."
There I broke off. I couldn't say any more than that yet.
Why I'd thrown away the top of the world. The real truth of it, I still couldn't put into words very well, even to myself.
But the residents didn't ask anything more. They just listened quietly.
"It's good here," I said with a smile.
"More than the finest matsutake, that one word—when you all tell me 'It's delicious'—that's a far greater feast to me. ...Is that strange?"
Nobody said it was strange.
Rei's eyes softened, and she raised her glass.
"...Cheers. I don't really get it, but cheers to an amazing person making our meals."
"I'm not an amazing person."
"Yes, yes. Just a middle-aged guy who loves food, right?"
"Yes. That's plenty for me."
The night grew late.
After everyone had gone upstairs, I happened to look at the living room chalkboard as I cleaned up. I picked up the chalk to write tomorrow's menu.
Just then, the words Sawako had said to me the other day came back without warning.
Did you open all the things Mom left you? Properly?
The box at the back of the closet. Besides the letter, there was still something else.
I set the chalk down and stared toward the manager's room for a while. At my feet, Komugi gave a yawn.
"...Do you know? What Tomi left me?"
The dog only looked up at me with his round, dark eyes.
I gave a small laugh and picked up the chalk again. I wrote tomorrow's menu on the chalkboard.
Sukiyaki left over. Curry udon tomorrow.
Beneath it, I added the usual line.
Welcome home.
When I turned off the kitchen light, the black shape of the landline stood quietly in the dark. Opening the box—I'd leave it for just a little longer.
For now, I wanted to savor this warm table a little longer.