Chapter 132: The Stubborn Old Man’s Kaiseki Cuisine

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Translator: Soafp

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After leaving the roadside station, the two boarded a bus. It was fairly crowded, but they were lucky enough to find seats together.

Sora sat by the window, placing her suitcase in front of her, and Ginji sat beside her.

“Good thing we made it on. That was pretty close,” Sora said with a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, never thought we'd get stopped that many times on the way to the bus stop…”

They were both a bit worn out. Just when they thought they had fended off enough attention at the roadside station, they had been approached several more times on the way to the bus stop. It wasn't just guys hitting on them—Sora's cuteness had drawn the attention of some female tourists too, which started a mini commotion, with people mistakenly thinking some kind of celebrity was around.

“In the end, they were all looking for some idol who wasn't even there…”

“The rumors got exaggerated until it turned into ‘a celebrity is in town.' Well, I guess someone saw you and assumed you were in showbiz.”

“I'm no Aika-chan. That kind of thing doesn't happen to me. Whew, I'm taking a break.”

Sora let out a deep breath and leaned on Ginji. A light scent of her hair mist lingered in the air. Ginji gladly lent his shoulder, knowing how hard crowds were for her.

As the bus rolled along the coastline, Ginji sipped from a bottled tea he'd bought at the station, when he felt someone watching him. Sora had rested her chin on his shoulder and was watching the bottle intently. Her hazel eyes, tinged with green and brown, looked like they could pull him in.

“You're really close… Want some tea?”

“Yeah.”

Sora accepted the tea and turned back to face forward. Still holding the cap, she glanced sideways at Ginji and gave a mischievous grin.

“Indirect kiss, huh.”

“…Idiot.”

“Ehehe.”

She took a sip with a smug smile as Ginji turned away, blushing. The bus turned from the coast and entered the town. Though called a “town,” it was rural and quieter than where they lived—hardly any tall buildings at all. They got off when the streets widened.

Sora, who had memorized the map, led the way. Ginji carried the suitcase and held her hand with his free one.

“It should be around here… Ah, there it is. The place with the noren hanging at the entrance.”

“That shop up the slope? I've never been this far out.”

It was a simple shop with no banners—just a gravel parking lot and a noren curtain that read “Kaiseki.”

“Nice atmosphere. I'm surprised you found a place like this.”

“It came up on a factory tour forum! People said it was amazing. Workers from the factory on the other side of the mountain even come all the way here.”

Sora puffed out her chest proudly—and then quickly stepped behind Ginji.

“Okay, your turn now.”

Sora was nervous about going into unfamiliar places. Ginji opened the door, revealing a small interior with a counter and three tables. The ceiling was low, and a chef—white-haired, slicked-back hair, and wearing a headband—looked over at them with a sharp glare that screamed “grumpy old man.”

“Uh, sorry, we had a reservation under… Takagi, right?”

“Um, n-no, actually… it's under Momoi.”

“Wait, you used my last name? Well, whatever. Two under Momoi.”

Sora fidgeted nervously, her fingers twiddling together in embarrassment. Ginji gave the name, and the chef replied in a booming voice.

“Welcome. Air-con's blasting, so hurry up and get in.”

“Where should we sit?”

“Anywhere's fine. You're the only reservation. Must've been hot out there. Hey! Get some tea for the customers!”

Since the table was further back, they took seats at the counter instead.

“Coming!”

A woman in a shirt and apron—likely the proprietress—came from the back and placed two glasses of barley tea in front of them.

“Welcome! We don't get many young folks around here. Where're you from?”

“From the central area.”

“Central? Oh, so you're local then. With such a cute girl, I figured you came from another prefecture. But they say Central's getting more young people lately. Didn't expect a doll-like beauty like you, though!”

“Th-thanks…”

Sora's shyness was kicking in hard. The proprietress looked like she wanted to chat more, but the front door opened and a few regulars came in.

“Yo! Finished unloading for the morning, so we're here!”

“Hey there—welcome!”

Seeing the proprietress shift her attention to them, Sora looked visibly relieved. But then the chef leaned over the counter and addressed them.

“Glad to see you sit at the counter. Young folks usually hide at the back tables. A proper kaiseki place only really comes alive when people sit at the counter. So, what'll it be? I saw the reservation said ‘any budget' and thought some rich folks were coming, but you're just kids. Be upfront and tell me your budget.”

“As per the reservation, we're okay with—” “3,000 to 4,000 yen per person, please.”

Ginji cut Sora off just before she could say “any amount.” Sora looked dissatisfied, and the two glared at each other for a moment.

“It's a date, so the guy should be paying. I hate I can't tell you to order anything, but…”

“It's not pathetic at all. You're working and saving up, that's amazing. But still, I want to pay too. If we split the bill, we could order better stuff. I mean—I chose this place, so even if I back down a bit, I still think we should split it.”

“…Yeah, you're right. Let's split it.”

“I want to pay the whole thing.”

“You're the one who brought up splitting!”

Sora pushed forward just as Ginji backed down.

“Hey, hey, young lady. Let the young man save some face. Still, that's plenty for lunch. Any fish or condiments you don't like?”

“None.”
“None.”

“Got it, sit tight. Hey, you guys in the back—what do you want?”

“Zangiii!!” (fried chicken)

The regulars chorused in unison.

“Eat some fish, you idiots!”

It seemed like a familiar back-and-forth. The chef laughed and picked up his knife.

He began slicing prepped horse mackerel. Both Ginji and Sora, who loved cooking, watched his knife skills with great interest.

Soon the proprietress returned and placed two small dishes in front of them.

“Here you go—pickles and squid with vinegared miso.”

Eggplant, carrot, daikon, cucumber—the pickles crunched pleasantly. After sweating in the summer heat, the saltiness hit just right. The vinegared miso with squid, elegantly portioned, felt refreshing and summery. Before they could even comment on the flavors, soup was served.

“Today's clear broth is with shrimp and egg tofu.”

“Wow, that smells amazing.”

“Look at this—shrimp in a lunch set is impressive.”

The soup contained steamed shrimp and egg tofu, topped with mitsuba. Sora stared at the bowl.

“Whoa, this bowl is really nice. Looks like it's lacquerware—probably a proper soup bowl.”

“Oh, you noticed? I only serve those for special lunch orders. And I decide who gets them. You've got good taste, young lady.”

“Hey, chef, what about us?”

One of the regulars joked, and the chef lazily waved him off.

“You lot get the cheap stuff.”

“Aw, come on! So where's our Zangi already?”

“Hold your horses! I'm heating the oil now. Gotta feed the youngsters first!”

“Haha, what a lively old guy.”

“Hehe… I'm glad.”

“Hm? About what?”

“Oh… nothing. Look—the sashimi's next.”

Noisy as the place was, the atmosphere wasn't bad. Especially for Ginji, who'd grown up around factory workers, the banter between the regulars felt familiar and comforting. And Sora, watching Ginji's reactions from the side, felt relieved—happy that he seemed to be enjoying the place. She'd actually been nervous, wondering, what if the place I picked was a flop?