The Smell of Sugar

[Kitti]

Tick tock, tick.

The train was running late. On the platform, a tall and slender man waited alone, checking his wristwatch every few seconds and tapping his foot. Looking up at the terminal sign, which confirmed that the train was by now a full minute behind schedule, the man exhaled sharply through his nose. Though his clothing was nondescript, dark pants and a white shirt, his agitated demeanor and imposing figure earned him a wide berth from the scattered others who were waiting for the same train.

At last, a faint rumbling and hum along the tracks signaled the impending arrival and Sakai Takumi adjusted the black bag slung across his shoulders that carried what few belongings he had chosen to bring with him. As the doors slid open, he pressed through the sparse crowd inside to wedge himself into a seat. Alongside him, an elderly man was studying a newspaper and a woman was engrossed in her phone but Sakai twisted to fix his eyes on the window behind him and watched as the trees and houses rushed past, blurring into rice fields that swayed in the breeze.

Several stops later, the train rattled into a quiet station where no one was even waiting to board. There was no need to double check the name of the stop, it was unmistakable. Getting off the train was far easier now with most of the passengers having dispersed among the more popular stops along the way and Sakai was happier for it. Though the silence was disturbed by the sounds of the train preparing to leave once again, the familiar peacefulness of the countryside seemed to hush the noisy intruder and urge it along its way.

Breathing deeply, Sakai squinted around at the familiar fields surrounding the little wooden platform until the train had continued along its way. Turning his back on the tracks, Sakai followed a path that led around a few wooden houses and finally a bridge that spanned a tranquil distributary of the nearby river. On the other side of the river lay the town, low buildings with a couple of cars here and there parked out front already coming into view.

The buildings were familiar, older than Sakai himself, and for the most part, the shops that filled their bones were also unchanged. Every so often he saw a new name where an old one had disappeared, mostly small businesses that couldn't sustain themselves. The thought crossed his mind again, what if? But the old man had owned the bakery since Sakai's father had been a boy in this town and it was impossible to believe that that had changed.

More likely that one of the town dogs was stealing letters again, or that the old man had misplaced the envelopes that Sakai had sent inquiring about whether he still needed someone to help out in the bakery. Even though Sakai had finished university in a degree that he discovered he couldn't stand, he couldn't imagine that the offer wasn't still open. The old man had been one of few tickled by the little boy's dour attitude, taking him into his shop to satisfy the neverending questions about things like why cakes were bigger than flour . For his patience and kindness, he had remained one of Sakai's favorite people even after his grandparents passed away and visits to the town became few and far between.

The roads that trailed lazily through the town brought him at last to the shopfront that he had longed to see. Tall enough to touch the top of the doorframe, he still felt small climbing up the shallow steps that led to it. Through the slightly hazy filter of nostalgia, it took Sakai until he was up to the door to realise that something was amiss. The wide windows that had once been filled with cakes and breads, mostly western with a sprinkling of more traditional Japanese fare, were now bare. The shelves were empty and the upper ones even looked to have developed a thin layer of dust.

Swallowing hard, Sakai steeled himself for the worst – an endless expanse of silence – and knocked anyway. He wondered if this wasn't actually what he had feared, that he had come despite unanswered calls and letters to prove that his worst suspicions were wrong. Or maybe he'd just been running away with any excuse.

"Hello? It's me, grandfather, Sakai."

 

[firejay1]

There was just way too much work to do. Kaori had been up since 6am, as she was every day nowadays. Back in Tokyo, her work had started 8 or 9, but she found she couldn't sleep here anymore. It wasn't the town, just the looming of the yakuza on her back. It had been a year since she discovered she couldn't manage her grandfather's affair from afar and quit her job. A year. Since then, she had cleaned out and fixed up the house, paid back the mobsters as regularly as clockwork, taking out of her little nest egg to do so, and made plans and payments to renovate the shop.

The worst part had been going through her grandfather's things. She had dealt with his will and his financial affairs first, and then moved almost all of his stuff to the warehouse so that the contractors could inspect the house and fix it up as well as possible. That, of course, meant she had nowhere to sleep but the shop, and in the meantime, she had to figure out what of his things she could keep, and what had to go because it had no use and took up space. The old man had kept so many things. Her friends had offered to help, but there was something about this process just a little too personal for her to allow other people to help. He had kept every single letter she had sent him. He had kept the second button from her father's uniform. He was- had been such a hoarder, and it killed her to examine each piece, one by one picking apart her grandfather's life, and deciding how much of it to throw away.

That was mostly done, now, at least. She mostly just had to throw away the occasional spam letter that came in for her grandpa, and finish going through his notebooks of experimental recipes. Now for the shop. The problem was finding someone to help her run it. She'd closed it temporarily, cleaned it out, gotten all the plans ready to renovate the shop, advertise it, and even set up a website in the hopes it would draw a few people passing by, but all of this was hopeless if she didn't have an employee with decent credentials, willing to lend a fresh eye to her efforts and do basically all the baking for minimal wage. It was going to take a miracle, and that sort of god-send was proving difficult to find indeed.

She was sitting in the backroom, squinting at her PC screen from behind her simple, practical glasses when she heard the knock at the door. Kaori let out a long sigh. Who could it be? It wasn't collection day yet (these yakuza were shockingly polite to her), and everyone who'd been bothering her with condolences or questions had got that out of their system months ago. A muffled voice came through, but she couldn't quite make out what the speaker was saying. She'd written a couple ads up asking for workers, but had placed her email address as the way to contact her and had not included the exact address of the shop, so it was unlikely to be someone looking for work, sadly enough. Straightening her clothes and making herself presentable in case it was a potential future customer, Kaori hastily stepped out and into the hallway. She'd taken up residence in the small office backroom behind the kitchens, so she passed the sadly empty counters before finding herself in the front of the shop.

There was a man standing behind the door. The young woman evaluated him coolly, eyeing him as subtly as she could. She thought she might have seen him before, but it was impossible to tell. He was quite a sight taller than her, and held a self-assured presence. Oh man. If this guy had come to cause any trouble, it was going to be hard to turn him away. Those confident types always were sort of stubborn. Unlocking the shop door, she pulled it open with her best professional smile. "Can I help you, sir? The shop is, unfortunately closed while we rebuild, but if you give me some way to contact you, I can notify you when we reopen." If he was a potential customer, she fervently hoped he did not notice the bags under her eyes, and would give her his contact information before going away as quickly as possible.

 

[Kitti]

The wait outside the door was excruciating and each second hung in the air with stifling silence. The comforting rhythm of the wristwatch's steady tick told Sakai that he had been waiting only a minute. His thoughts fluttered, almost laughing, to late trains. A minute in the city was not a minute in this sleepy town. The faint rustling of the grass and leaves paired with the whispers of the creek, comforting him as friends from when they spent the long days together.

When the handle of the door moved, he felt his heart jump a little in his throat. Surprise, relief? But it was quickly extinguished when he saw who was on the opposite side and his disappointment sharpened his features. Regarding her coolly from beneath lowered lashes, Sakai turned his gaze through the opening of the door before responding. The place seemed tidier than he had expected from the window displays, including the comfortable clutter of the shelves that had also disappeared. It seemed bare, in fact. Lifeless.

"Don't try to brush me off. Did you buy this place off the old man when he couldn't tend to it anymore?" his tone was accusing but his eyes were searching for answers. Anything that wasn't what he suspected. Any other answer would do. His thoughts were whirling faster than he could sort them out, from what this bossy-sounding lady was trying to turn the bakery into to who she reminded him of and what he was going to do now. Some of those questions were easier than others to solve with a little prodding.

"How long ago did you buy the place, anyway? I sent letters ahead that I'd be coming. Have you been throwing out the mail or what?"

 

[firejay1]

"Brush you-" Kaori's eyes widened temporarily in surprise, and she took a step back, slightly overwhelmed by the accusation in his voice. "What the- My grandfather would never-!" She stopped herself from raising her voice, and took a breath, letting it out in a sigh, before resolutely looking up at this stranger again. "Look, sir. I don't know who you are, but I'm sorry to inform you that my grandfather died. Over a year ago. He tended to the shop as long as he was alive, and I have taken it over in respect of that." Her breath hitched slightly, but she managed to get through most of the sentence without pause.

One thing was for certain. If this guy had been sending her grandfather letters, he probably wasn't a customer. But who the hell was he, then, and why was he here? "I apologize about the letters." She added, stiffly, lifting her glasses and rubbing one of her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I've been somewhat busy, and most items addressed to my grandfather have been junk mail. After a while, it was a bit too much to sort through every time. If I had bought the place, it would have been simple to forward the mail, but as you can imagine, that wasn't possible in this case." Damn her, choking up again in front of a totally random stranger.

She cleared her throat and took another step back to clear the doorway, putting on a very slight smile. "Instead of talking out here on the doorstep, would you like to come inside to tell me who you are and what your business here is today?" It was taking all of her willpower to entertain this guy, but chances of him going away seemed slim, and if she was going to have to deal with him, it was better to do it in relative privacy than have the neighbors gossiping about her arguing with some guy in her doorway. The short woman grit her teeth slightly, gesturing towards the backroom. Here was to hoping she didn't have to be polite to him the whole time. "And please, close and lock the door behind you." It was a simple latch to lock the door, but the neighborhood was relatively safe. She would just rather the shop not be fodder for the local wild children.

 

[Kitti]

"My grandfather..."

"...my grandfather died"

Straightening, Sakai's expression eased from indignation, perhaps annoyance, to something smoother and more passive. The features betrayed nothing and the ember was curtly snuffed, eyes cold. The woman kept speaking and his brain made a dash to piece together what had gone from one ear to the next. Would he like to come inside?

A sullen looking boy with neatly combed black hair and a petulant expression looked past the woman and into the room, searching for the source of the noise coming from inside the kitchen. If he closed his eyes, he could see every cupboard and reach inside them to retrieve a mixing bowl or slide open the drawer to draw out a whisk. The little boy brushed past the woman, fingers trailing over the counter's edge as he made his way wordlessly into the kitchen.

"Very well. I have some questions that I'd like to ask and it would be more convenient to do so inside, thank you."

Following her inside the door, Sakai closed the door as requested and hooked the latch into place. It felt alien, he couldn't recall if he'd ever latched the door before. Whether it was rose-tinted nostalgia or childhood carelessness, the shop in his mind was never shut away. The air was stifling, too heavy and solemn. The dust that had settled on various unused surfaces seemed to devour even the sound of footfall.

The little boy had already made his way unbidden into the kitchen, pushing open the weightless wooden door and finding the source of the mystery noise. Sakai could hear the man inside set his mixing bowl down on the counter. He frowned and let the woman lead the way to the backroom.

He had heard the catch in her voice when she spoke of the previous owner, the man she called grandfather. Watery eyes and a grey complexion, bags beneath her eyes she was pitiable looking enough to erase any doubt that she might not be telling the truth. The sad way that her mouth had scrunched up when she explained about the mail made the pit of his stomach clench. He should feel sorry for her. He inhaled through his nose, sure he was imagining the faint scent of vanilla in the air.

"Was it sudden, then? His death, I mean." He wanted to be alone in the kitchen and part of him resented her presence in the space where his memories lived. He'd rather have been alone this last time with just the little boy and the man in the kitchen.

 

[firejay1]

Questions..... Kaori wanted nothing more than to tell him to please go away because no, she would not like to answer any damn questions he had about the circumstances of her grandfather's death. Instead of saying any of this, she led him back past the deathly quiet of the kitchens and towards the backroom. At the last moment, she remembered that her backroom was not really suitable to be seen at the moment. Various papers cluttered the space, as did her clothes and some makeshift bedding. She should be better prepared for if someone had come to interview for the position, but as it was she passed her little office space and headed instead to the changing room. It wasn't the best space to conduct a conversation, but a slightly dusty wooden bench was better than the chaos of her current home.

She glanced back at him to see if he had noticed the hesitation, but he seemed preoccupied with the empty kitchens, gaze lingering almost fondly on the space that felt so disconcertingly lonely to her without at least the constant hum of the refrigerators. "It depends on what you mean by sudden." She said, matter-of-factly as she opened the door to the changing room. "He was old. I'm told he died in his sleep while at the hospital for a spell of influenza. They don't know if the illness got to him or something else. I suppose he had just decided it was his time. Before things got worse." It didn't cross her mind to explain what she meant by the last sentence.

The short woman leaned against the door to let him squeeze past her and into the room first. "Feel free to sit, though I can't offer you tea. My name is Kaori Tou. Before you ask any more of your... questions. I have two of my own. Who are you? And who were you to my grandfather?"

 

[Kitti]

The woman's choice of rooms in which to receive him was baffling. Without much thought given, Sakai had been following her toward the backroom while he let his mind wander. At some point in the journey, however, things had certainly gone a little astray. He sat down stiffly on the edge of a bench that was as enfolded by dust as the rest of the sleeping rooms. The building felt like it wanted to fold in on itself like a primrose and begin to decompose.

Had she chosen the most uncomfortable and cramped room in the house intentionally, to try to pressure him into leaving faster? He peered at her face and found that she did indeed seem to be begrudgingly tolerating his presence. His mouth stayed in place, impassive throughout her answer, though his eyebrow quirked upwards at the end. She wasn't even going to offer him tea? He couldn't remember the last time he'd been received in such a way.

Inside, he was tucking away bits of information. Every question about her grandfather's death that rose to the surface like bubbles was swept aside as he struggled to remain collected. He reminded himself that she must be grieving, though he could hardly understand where she had learned such manners.

"As for me, I am Sakai Takumi. What I was to your grandfather, maybe nothing. A neighbor. He sometimes let me help him in the kitchen." His answer was curt and lacking in detail, somehow he felt possessive over the memories and facts. His heart seemed to squeeze painfully at the thought of telling her these memories, as though telling her would let her intrude on the warm kitchen where the smell of sugar hung heavily in the air and an old man showed a little boy how to make pastry cream the right consistency for the rum baba in the oven. Was he jealous that she had known that the man was dying and not him? Sakai should have written sooner, regretted it bitterly.

"I offer you my condolences and regret that I missed seeing him. I do not think that there's anything more that I need to ask. I can tell that you are otherwise occupied, anyway."

He realised that it would seem abrupt to leave so soon after she'd shown him inside but the bitter taste of regret clung to his mouth and he couldn't swallow right with all the dust and sorrow in the air. He admitted it, if only to himself - he wanted to flee.

 

[firejay1]

The man across from her was... stiff was a polite way of putting it. His condolences felt cold and his explanations less than satisfactory. At least he seemed to have been satisfied enough to be ready to leave, though if he "can tell that you are otherwise occupied" she wished he had shown her the courtesy of not making a ruckus in front of her door in the first place. Her feelings towards him at the moment were largely uncharitable, and she'd never been good at or interested in hiding that sort of thing.

She opened her mouth and was about to stand up to show him out, when something hit her. Grandfather had allowed him to help him in the kitchens...? "Wait!" She blurted. At least if she could get him to help out at the start. She needed to open the shop soon, if she was going to be able to continue to pay off the debt to the yakuza. This was a long shot, because who knew who this guy was, or if he already had a job, or a million other things, but Kaori was running a bit low on options. Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she wouldn't mind someone who had known her grandfather and had clearly cared about him in some way. Someone who would respect the things he had made and his spirit in creating it.

"If you have any experience in the kitchen, would you be willing to work at this shop? That is, if you're free to look for work." She asked. "I can't pay you that much for now, but if you can afford to help me at least until I can get the shop off the ground, I can offer you lodging as soon as one of the rooms at my grandfather's house has finished being renovated in a week or so." Her grandfather's house was not close, as it was an older, more traditional building a little outside the more modern buildings of the town, but it was a pretty easy bike ride away, though Kaori was a bit shocked he'd still managed the journey at his age. She hadn't been planning to move in until the whole house was renovated anyways, especially with the amount of work she had to complete. More importantly, it was really the only thing she could think of to offer to compensate for what was bound to be low pay at least at first.