The Passengers on the Hankyu Line

Takarazuka-Minamiguchi Station

Masashi said goodbye to the rather unusual granny and her granddaughter and moved towards the nearby connecting door that led to the rear car of the train.

‘Are you all right, Yuki? Do you want to get off at Takarazuka and rest a bit?’

She shook her head as he helped her along.

‘No, now that the stink of perfume is gone, I’m fine.’

‘Do you want to sit?’

There were seats available here and there, although not two vacant seats next to each other.

‘I’m fine, it’s just one more station. I can stand with you.’

They had an unspoken rule for when the train passed over the iron bridge that spans the Mukogawa River – it didn’t matter whether they stood by a door or not, but they always faced the side of the train that looked out over the river.

The vast sandbank that was visible from there had gone back to being just a sandbank.

The first time they had ever talked to each other, there had been a giant kanji character assembled in stonework on that sandbank.

At the time, Masashi didn’t expect anything to come of their conversation on the train about the kanji character Yuki had spotted on the sandbank – the one that made her thirsty for a draught beer in a glass mug – and that most people paid no attention to. Masashi had seen Yuki, whose name he didn’t yet know, as a rival and assumed that she hadn’t noticed him. She was constantly snatching interesting books from under his nose at the library. Much to his chagrin, because she was definitely his type.

That day, as she was getting off the train at Sakasegawa Station she had said to him:

The next time we meet, we should have a drink.

The central library. You go there a lot, don’t you? So then, next time we meet.

So it turned out that he wasn’t the only one to have noticed. She had locked onto him as well. And from the moment he became aware of this, he was a goner.

He leapt off the train to rush after her and to invite her, breathlessly, to go for a drink now rather than later. Luckily she was free and happily took him up on the offer. They had also exchanged phone numbers – this all progressed so easily that it made him doubt his own luck.

The start of their relationship was perhaps even more mannerly than that of a couple of high-school kids. On Saturdays when they could both go to the library, they would meet up at Sakasegawa Station. One way they differed from high-school students, though, is that sometimes on their way back they would have a meal together that included alcohol.

Whenever they went to the library, the two of them always gazed down at the sandbank from the train.

生

It’s still there.

Yeah, there it is.

It appeared that someone was maintaining the kanji character: in summer, the grasses that would have overgrown it on the sandbank were weeded; sometimes if the stones had eroded and its outline had started to blur, it would be reassembled and fixed back up. It remained there, inconspicuously, for quite a long time.

But, after a typhoon and continuous rainy spells, the torrents caused the river to rise and cover the kanji character, so that now it again looked like any nondescript sandbank.

It’s gone now.

Yeah, totally gone.

It sure held on, didn’t it?

It lasted as long as it could.

It might have been around the time of this exchange that they had started spending time at one another’s apartments.

Library dates, sometimes followed by a meal.

It was only because of these occasional meals together that he came to realize that she enjoyed her drink. Not a huge surprise, since in their initial exchange she had talked about associating the kanji character on the sandbank with the word ‘nama’ and then craving a draught beer. And once Masashi had mustered up the courage to invite her out, the place where they ended up going was her favourite izakaya. The fact that a young woman had a local bar where she felt comfortable drinking alone was proof that she was a pretty serious drinker.

Masashi was no lightweight, but he did fear that he might lose if they ever played a genuine drinking game.

What’s more, it turned out she was the type who seemed to show no effects from alcohol. No matter how much she had to drink, on their way home she’d be straight as an arrow. There were never any unguarded moments – so their mannerly dates always stayed mannerly.

What finally caused her ironclad defences to crumble was the summer gifting season.

The office where Masashi worked had a tradition: they would collect up all the non-perishable gifts that were delivered to the company in the lead-up to the holiday and when the day of ochugen – July 15th – came around, there would be a lottery among all the employees to give away the goods. It was a decent-sized company that received quite a lot of gifts, which meant there were favourable odds of winning something.

Then, say, if a teetotaller won a case of beer, or conversely a drinker won fruit juice or higashi confectionery, the employees were free to do a ‘prize exchange’ after the draw.

This year, as chance would have it, Masashi won the prize most coveted by the drinking connoisseurs in the office. It was a magnum of saké from the famed Keigetsu brewery in Tosa, on the island of Shikoku. This was from a well-known client who each year sent fine saké from various regions of Japan.

Any other year, Masashi would likely have been glad to entertain offers for an exchange. He didn’t know much about saké nor did he have much occasion to drink it since he lived alone – he preferred beer, which he could drink without ceremony.

But this year, he had to fend off his superiors and his boss, who tried to persuade him to trade it. They were sure he wouldn’t be able to finish it by himself, but he convinced them that he wanted to develop a taste for saké and that it wouldn’t go to waste. In the end, he managed to bring home the sought-after prize.

The truth was he had no particular affinity for Japanese saké, not even this celebrated variety, and he rarely drank alone.

But he did like to drink in good company – and now he had a girlfriend who very much enjoyed drinking saké.

When Yuki drank good saké, it seemed to put her in especially high spirits.

She had been the one to suggest from the start that they split the bill on their dates – the exceptions being when they were celebrating one another’s birthday – and she always made sure to check with Masashi before ordering a glass of expensive saké.

And whenever she did, she seemed to truly savour it. Her expression would be so delighted that Masashi always suggested she have another glass, but Yuki always refused. Apparently, when it came to fine saké, her self-imposed rule was just one glass. This ensured that she would appreciate it to the fullest – and also perhaps kept her drinking in moderation.

He imagined that at drinking parties with work colleagues, when they encouraged her to let her hair down, she probably deflected the pressure in a similar way, saying that she wanted to be able to enjoy the taste of whatever they were drinking.

Knowing her appreciation, Masashi was excited to share this rare local saké with Yuki, and he hoped that her curiosity about this renowned brand might prove to be a chink in her armour.

He called her on the phone to extend the invitation. It was not the kind of bottle that they could bring to a restaurant or bar. They’d have to drink it at one of their apartments.

‘I managed to come into a bottle of Keigetsu saké from the brewery in Kochi …’

‘When you say “Keigetsu” do you mean the Keigetsu?!’ Yuki had taken the bait. It was remarkable that she knew it by name, considering that it wasn’t one of the major saké brands in Japan. ‘A while ago, I tried it at a bar somewhere in Osaka … it was delicious.’ Her voice was resonant – it sounded as though she was relishing the memory of its taste. ‘Someone at the drinking party was from Kochi and he recommended it. He also mentioned how rare it was to come across it around here.’

It was true – the saké from Kochi that Masashi had seen in local bars was usually either Tosatsuru or Suigei, brands that were available throughout the country.

‘And he told me something else that was interesting. He said that to produce good saké basically requires good water and good rice. Makes sense, huh? Most places that are famous for saké are also famous for their rice, right? Like Niigata. But Kochi is in the countryside so they must have fresh, clean water, even if they’re not really known for their rice.’

Also true – he had never heard anything special about the rice in Kochi.

‘So you’d think they’re already at a disadvantage when it comes to making saké, but they regularly win the gold prize at the annual saké awards – like fifteen or sixteen times in a row. I think altogether they’ve won, like, more than thirty times so they’re way ahead of the rest of the country. I wonder how they do so well when they start out a step behind?’

‘Huh, dunno. Maybe they have an exceptional technique for making it?’

‘Nope. According to that guy, it’s because people from Kochi prefecture are able to overcome their greediness when it comes to saké!’

She was right about that too – it was a well-known stereotype that people from Kochi were drinking aficionados. Even the women. They might say, ‘Only a sip,’ and before you knew it, they will have downed three litres of the stuff.

That was quite a track record for Kochi, regardless of whether or not they had had to overcome their fondness for drinking, and it was an amusing story to boot.

But Masashi found that he couldn’t just laugh along with Yuki. Despite her genuine mirth as she relayed the story, he felt a petty, niggling twinge.

He knew that, at their age, of course they each came with a past, though he couldn’t help but wonder whether this person that Yuki talked about had been someone special to her, and Masashi would find it troubling if he was still in her orbit.

‘This guy from Kochi … is he senior to you at your company?’

‘Yeah. We still work together.’

Did the fact that she could speak about this person so serenely mean that, if they had been boyfriend and girlfriend, things had ended amicably? And if so, that they were still in such close proximity could mean there was a not-insignificant chance of them getting back together.

‘This guy fits the three-litre stereotype too,’ Yuki added.

‘You might have said so before,’ he blurted out.

‘Does that worry you?’ Her question murmured into his ear over the phone.

‘I hate to admit it …’

‘Sorry. Well, that’s reassuring.’ But Yuki kept right on talking, before he could ask her what was reassuring. ‘I guess I could come over to your place to drink it. You’re in Obayashi, right?’

The arrangements were made – the date was set for that weekend, the meal would be teppanyaki, using his hot plate – and Yuki said goodnight and hung up.

On the appointed day, Masashi cleaned his place meticulously and went to the station to meet Yuki at the agreed-upon time.

They bought groceries at the supermarket in front of the station and were on their way to Masashi’s apartment when they passed by the local library.

‘Wait a minute, the western branch of the library is in Obayashi?! Does that mean that you use both this one and the central library …?!’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘That’s cheating!’

‘You say it’s cheating, but it’s only one stop away from Sakasegawa. You could come here too.’

‘But from Sakasegawa I’d have to go in one direction to get to the western branch here and then in the opposite direction to go the central library – that doesn’t make sense! I wish I’d known, I would have looked for an apartment in Obayashi!’

‘I guess so, but Sakasegawa’s pretty convenient, right? And then you’re closer to the bigger library.’

‘You do have a point, but …’

While they were talking, they reached Masashi’s apartment, and he invited her inside.

He found it amusing that the always-fearless Yuki seemed a bit reserved as she stepped into his place. Maybe she was nervous; her eyes darted around the room curiously.

‘It’s pretty neat, isn’t it?’

‘I cleaned it today. It’s usually a bit messier.’

It was a studio apartment, with a kitchenette stuffed into the hallway that consisted of an odd little sink and a single electric ring. He hardly ever used it – if friends came over to drink, he pulled out the hot plate or a camping stove.

Knowing these were the facilities, that was why Yuki had suggested they could use the hot plate for teppanyaki, so they could grill things to accompany the saké.

‘What do you usually do for your meals?’

‘I get onigiri from the convenience store or prepared food from the supermarket we went to.’

‘Wow, I bet you don’t get enough vegetables. Tonight you’ll have your fill.’ And she set about cutting up the vegetables in his cramped little kitchen.

They had met up in the late afternoon, so by the time they’d finished their preparations, it was dinnertime.

They started grilling the meat and the vegetables on the hot plate, and at long last, the Keigetsu made its appearance.

Yuki let out a cheer. ‘Amazing – a magnum! We’ll really be able to savour it, won’t we?’

Masashi wasn’t sure what to make of her statement – did that mean she intended to come back here again? Or that he could bring it over to her place sometime?

As Yuki devoted her attention to the first glass of this extravagant indulgence, her delight was apparent. Masashi, who was tasting Keigetsu for the first time, now understood what all the excitement had been about.

‘Shall we have another glass?’

After much hesitation, she finally agreed to a second glass, but when he offered to fill it a third time, she covered her glass with her hand.

‘Later I will have one last glass,’ she said.

They then switched to the beer that they had picked up, and they chatted about silly things while they watched TV – before long the clock struck midnight.

They had both been pretending not to notice how late it was getting.

And in the distance, they could hear the signal at the train crossing.

‘That’s your last train,’ he said.

‘I know,’ she replied.

‘Guess you’re staying over.’

‘If you were gonna send me home now, I’d burst into tears.’

Yuki stood up, her glass in hand, and went to the kitchen. There was the sound of water running as she rinsed her glass, followed by her steady footsteps as she came back into the room.

‘I’ll have my last glass now. And then, I’d like to take a bath.’

Masashi poured her a third glass of Keigetsu, but he declined when she offered to pour his in return.

‘Better not. I can’t hold my liquor like you.’

He switched to mineral water to sober himself up a bit.

As Yuki took tiny sips of her third glass of saké, her voice became querulous. ‘Now I’m worried. I hate to think that you don’t want me to be here with you like this.’

‘Where do you get that idea all of a sudden?’

‘Because you haven’t tried it on at all!’

‘If you want me to, you have to give me a chance. Like even now, you’re as steady as a rock, you’re so rational that you even think to rinse out your glass before having more saké, and most of the time, we’re out together somewhere. It’s not like I can put the moves on you and suggest we go to your place or mine. You could make it easier on me too, you know.

‘But I wouldn’t let you go home tonight,’ he finished saying, starting to get sulky now.

‘Fufu,’ Yuki giggled as she gulped down what was left in her glass.

‘Really? You swig that like it’s swill.’

‘Because I need to take a bath now.’

The fact that the bath was more important than savouring the last bit of Keigetsu was perhaps the surest confirmation of her attraction to him.

When the train crossed over the iron bridge, Takarazuka Music School came into view, the refined building looking like it came out of a fairyland, with its outer walls made of beige brick and its bright orange roof.

As the train rounded the bend and entered Takarazuka Station, Yuki lost her balance and grabbed onto Masashi’s arm.

Ever since that night, she no longer hesitated to lean on him.

The train stopped, the doors opened and the passengers emptied out all at once.

Amid the crowd, they could easily pick out the granny with the dog carrier, a Dachshund’s head sticking out, and her granddaughter, and as Masashi and Yuki waved at them, they saw them and waved back. They were getting off at Takarazuka, like they had said, and were headed for the descending staircase.

Masashi and Yuki were transferring to the train bound for Umeda that was waiting across the platform.