Page 43 of A Serving of Hope

Koishi produced the silk haori in question and pulled it on over her shirt by way of demonstration.

“The hallmark of Oshima Tsumugi is how all the tiny dots are connected,” said Nagare, examining the haori up close.

Saki was peering at the haori in alarm. “But…That pattern…”

“You noticed, then?” Nagare pointed at the brooch pinned to Saki’s jacket. “It’s a perfect match.”

“Wow,” said Koishi, glancing at the haori’s sleeve and then the brooch. “It really is.”

Saki shook her head firmly. “If you’re implying I stole that design, I did nothing of the sort…”

“Of course not. No one’s saying you stole anything. This is what I meant when I said you have Amami blood in your veins. You designed this brooch without knowing a thing about Oshima Tsumugi, and yet it happens to feature one of its classic patterns—the linked square motif. One brooch might just have been a coincidence, but the accessory you wore last time looked strikingly similar to”—Nagare opened a catalog—“this.”

Saki inhaled sharply.

“Another signature Oshima motif,” said Nagare. “The wickerwork pattern.”

“Incredible…” murmured Koishi, her eyes widening as she leaned in to look.

Saki gave a resigned smile. “I must seem like something of a copycat.”

“Not so far-fetched after all, eh?” Nagare said, smiling back at her.

“I just don’t get it, though. I stayed up all night working on both those designs.”

“I suppose you’ve always carried your Amami heritage inside you.”

Saki straightened her posture. “Sounds like something I should be proud of.”

“Oh, definitely,” said Koishi, beaming at her.

“It’s funny. At first I had no idea why I’d even want to taste those noodles again. Now it all makes sense.” Saki’s eyes were sparkling. “Perhaps I should make a little trip to the island.”

“None of us are born into this world alone,” said Nagare. “We each have a father and a mother, and they each had parents before them. Without them, we simply wouldn’t be here.”

Saki reflected on this, then smiled cheerfully at the pair. “To be honest, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut recently. I made these brooches over a decade ago, and in the past year or so I’ve barely produced anything decent. This feels like the spark I’ve been waiting for.”

“Glad to hear it.” Nagare handed her the folder. “I’ve written down recipes for both the noodles and the miki. Make them for your father sometime.”

“All the ingredients are in here,” said Koishi, holding out a paper bag.

“Thank you for everything.” Saki took the bag, then bowed and slid open the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed, before retrieving her purse from her handbag. “Almost forgot to pay.”

Koishi gave her their bank details, asking her simply to send them whatever felt right.

“All right then. Thank you again.” Saki bowed once more, then set off west down Shomen-dori.

“You’re not calling your driver?” Koishi called out from behind.

Saki turned back and smiled. “I think I’d like to walk a little first.”

“Nice time of year for a stroll,” murmured Nagare as they watched her depart.

Koishi turned to look at him. “Dad, people get married for the funniest of reasons, don’t they?”

“Absolutely. There’s no predicting it. If there’s a connection, you end up together. And if not, well, that’s that.”

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