Page 37 of A Serving of Hope

“Pardon me for asking,” said Koishi, “but you don’t seem particularly keen on eating this dish. So why come to us?”

“For some reason, my father has started craving it. He completely lost his appetite when my mother died last year—and yet day after day he says he wants a bowl of those noodles. I asked him if it was one of his last wishes—if eating them would help him depart in peace.” Saki chuckled softly. “And he told me it was.”

Koishi’s expression had turned solemn. “Your grandmother in Takahama—Kaneko. Is she still alive?”

“Oh, she’s been dead for years. If she were alive I’d have asked her. Obviously.” Saki snorted dismissively. “I thought you were a detective!”

“I see,” said Koishi, pressing a hand to her chest as if to contain her irritation. “And your father doesn’t remember what the noodles were like?”

“He has…well, dementia. I can’t make sense of half the things he says. Asking him would get me nowhere.”

“What about the house in Takahama? Is it still there?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Saki replied airily. “We’ve fallen out of touch with that side of the family.”

“Right. It’s just…we’re going to need a little more to go on. Is there anything else you remember about the noodles? Even the tiniest details can be helpful.”

“Well, I don’t know how it’s served in Kyoto, but hiyashi-chuka normally comes with shredded cucumber, shredded omelet, and a few strips of ham or roast pork on top.”

“Yes, it’s the same here. We just call it reimen instead.”

“But my grandmother’s version was a little different. It had the shredded omelet, but the other toppings were simpler. Chicken, shiitake, things like that.”

“Sounds like you remember it just fine.”

“I’m just repeating what my father told me. I don’t recall a thing myself.”

“And how did it taste?”

“I’m telling you, it’s all a blur! I can tell you how it looked: drab. As for the taste, all I remember is that it didn’t have the sourness that hiyashi-chuka usually has. That part at least must have suited my palate.”

“Anything else you recall?”

“She used to serve this sweet milk with it. Whenever we visited, that was the part I would look forward to: the milk.”

“Sweet milk, eh? All right.” Koishi snapped her notebook closed. “I’ll make sure Dad leaves no stone unturned.”

—

Back in the restaurant, Saki bowed politely to Nagare. “I’m ever so grateful for your assistance. Though I’m afraid my memories turned out to be awfully vague, so you won’t have much to go on…”

Koishi felt a wave of exasperation at Saki’s sudden transformation into a gracious and polite person, and looked on sourly as Nagare bowed deeply in return.

“Whatever it is you’re after, I promise to give it everything I’ve got.”

“Excuse me a moment.” Saki reached into her bag for her phone, tapped at it, and raised it to her ear. She was asking her driver to pick her up. When Koishi grimaced openly at the brusqueness with which she did so, Nagare made a stern face and shook his head in warning.

“Ah, yes,” said Saki when she was finished, swapping her phone for a bulging blue purse. “Let me pay.”

“That can wait until next time,” explained Nagare. “You’ll pay for everything together.”

“All right. And when will that be?”

“Two weeks from today, if that works?”

“Certainly. I’m in no rush.”

“We’ll call you on the number you gave on the form.” As Koishi said these words, a car pulled up outside.