2

it was the height of the autumn foliage season, and kyoto was heaving with visitors. even

shomen-dori, the street that ran past the kamogawa diner, was even busier than usual, with

hordes of tourists making their way between higashi honganji temple and the nearby shosei-en

garden.

‘i wonder if that mr yamada is actually going to turn up,’ said koishi, standing in front of the

restaurant and bending down to stroke drowsy.

‘you did send him a reminder, right?’ said nagare, anxiously surveying the passing throngs of

people.

‘of course! mr yamada is just a little busy, it seems. he said he’d be here a bit later than last

week.’

‘but it’s one o’clock already,’ said nagare, shooing the cat away as it tried to curl itself around

his legs. ‘he was here at twelve on the dot last time.’

‘oh! is that him?’ said koishi, pointing in the direction of higashi honganji temple. ‘there,

getting out from the taxi.’

dressed in a dark blue suit, tomomi strode hastily over to where they were waiting in their

chef’s whites.

‘sorry i’m late. did you come out here just to wait for me?’

‘oh, we were just enjoying the sun with drowsy here. please, come on in,’ said nagare, sliding

the door open.

‘i am sorry for the rush,’ said tomomi, bowing as he walked into the restaurant.

‘you have work to get back to, i imagine? we’ll be quick. i’ll leave you in dad’s hands,’ said

koishi, showing tomomi to a table. in contrast to his more casual appearance last week, tomomi

did look as though he’d only just slipped away from some engagement.

nagare sat down at the formica table opposite tomomi, while koishi disappeared into the

kitchen. there was a brief pause before tomomi broached the reason for his visit.

‘well then, did you manage to find out about that sushi?’

‘if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have asked you to come,’ said nagare, grinning playfully.

‘thank you for your hard work.’

‘i wouldn’t thank me yet. i’ve tried making the mackerel sushi you were after, mr yamada, but

there’s a chance it won’t match up to your expectations – in which case, i hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘i’m well aware of that,’ said tomomi, fixing nagare with his gaze.

‘koishi,’ called nagare, twisting to face the kitchen, ‘cut up the second one from the right,

would you? two-centimetre slices.’

from the kitchen came the sound of a chef’s knife – five deliberate thuds, at equal intervals.

‘will tea be fine?’ asked koishi, bringing over a black lacquer tray. on it was the mackerel

sushi, arranged on a long, narrow koimari-ware dish. ‘we have sake too.’

‘oh, no, definitely tea. i have work to get back to,’ said tomomi, glancing at the dish in front of

him. he fell silent, contemplating the dish with what seemed like intense concentration.

‘please,’ said nagare, gesturing towards the sushi.

tomomi did as nagare suggested. as if unable to wait a moment longer, he briefly pressed his

palms together, then brought a slice of sushi to his mouth. nagare and koishi were staring at him,

carefully studying his mouth and expression.

tomomi began to chew slowly, as though contemplating the flavour.

there was another lengthy silence.

‘no doubt about it. this is it. this is what i was after.’

his eyes seemed to moisten slightly. tomomi picked up another piece of sushi and opened his

mouth.

‘phew!’ said koishi, unable to resist clapping her hands together.

‘the colour. the zestiness. that crunch. it’s perfect. i can only describe it as magic. it’s exactly

the sushi i had fifty years ago. but you’ve never even eaten it – how on earth did you . . .’ tomomi

set his chopsticks down and sat up straight. ‘please, tell me how you did it!’

‘well, i went through everything you told koishi last week, one by one. the kuwano ryokan,

the “living torii gate”, yellow sushi rice, and the ryukyu islands. those were the four keywords.

first, i paid a visit to mushakoji-cho, where that ryokan used to be. of course, there’s no trace of

it now, but i asked one of the locals about it. they told me kuwano was not a surname, but a place

name. but there are dozens of kuwanos all over japan. i was at a loss.’

nagare paused for a sip of tea before continuing.

‘the site of the kuwano ryokan had been turned into a block of apartments. there was an

impressive tree in the front garden – a tosa winter hazel, to be precise. i asked someone about it

and was told it had been there since the days of the ryokan. so i wondered if the owner might be

from the tosa region. at the same time, i was still wondering about that name, kuwano. i knew

i’d heard it somewhere. i did some more research and realized that the kuwano river runs through

nankoku – which is in tosa. so kuwano and tosa were connected after all. it was time for a trip.’

nagare smiled, and a grin rose to tomomi’s lips too.

‘dad always likes to see things for himself,’ chipped in koishi, gazing earnestly at her father.

‘i closed the restaurant for the day, and travelled to the kuwano river in nankoku to see what i

could find. first, i looked for this “living torii gate”. i asked some locals if they’d heard of such a

thing, and they all told me i must mean the jiju shrine. following their directions, i made my way

to a small old shrine – and in front of it, i found what i was looking for. mr yamada, may i ask

what you were imagining this “living gate” to look like?’

‘well,’ said tomomi frankly, ‘you have to remember i was only eight at the time. i suppose i

imagined it somehow coming alive at night and wriggling around. you know, something a little . .

. supernatural.’

‘i had similar thoughts at first. but the gate turned out to be mysterious in quite a different way.

take a look.’

nagare showed tomomi a photo he’d taken with his digital camera.

‘that’s the gate?’ asked tomomi, who had taken off his glasses. ‘looks more like a tree to me.’

he looked baffled.

‘that’s right. see how those two cedars have merged together to form a kind of torii? they’re

called the kuwano torii cedars. they’re a well-known local landmark. instead of chopping down a

tree and using it to make the gate, the locals decided to use a living tree. i was convinced this was

the “living torii gate” the ryokan owner had been talking about. so i asked the priest at the shrine

to tell me more about it, and that’s when i stumbled across the juiciest morsel of intel.’

‘dad is always good with juicy morsels,’ said koishi, a delighted look on her face as she poured

tomomi some more tea.

‘the priest told me that he remembered a local woman who went off to run a ryokan in kyoto.

a little west of the shrine was a village called tosayama nishikawa, and that turned out to be

where the owner of the kuwano ryokan hailed from. does the name haruko taira ring any bells?’

nagare looked straight at tomomi.

‘now that you mention it,’ replied tomomi, nodding slowly, ‘i think the staff at the ryokan used

to call her haru-san . . .’

‘after shutting down the ryokan, haruko went back to her hometown, where sadly she passed

away many years ago. but i met a woman there who said she had learned the recipe directly from

her. i got her to tell me all about it – and this mackerel sushi here is the result. it’s pickled tosa-

style, but the mackerel itself i sourced from wakasa, seeing as that’s where haruko would have

got it from back in those days.’

nagare gazed at the sushi on the table.

‘so she was from tosa, eh? i was convinced she was either an okinawan or a kyotoite.’

tomomi extracted a grain of rice from his moustache with his fingers, then reached for his third

slice of sushi.

‘in tosa, there’s a type of sushi called inaka-zushi, where they use the local yuzu fruit to season

the rice. they combine it with the usual vinegar, giving the rice a yellow colour. it has quite the

unique aroma. not sure i’d call it lemony, though.’

koishi had taken a seat next to nagare and seemed to be appreciating the sushi’s aroma.

‘what’s this?’ asked tomomi, noticing the vegetable that was wedged between the sliced

mackerel and vinegared rice. ‘it looks like thinly sliced aubergine . . .’

‘i only figured this part out right at the end. that, mr yamada, is the “ryukyu” you

remembered. it turns out that in tosa, they call this species of taro “ryukyu”. sometimes they cut

it into thin slices and place them on top of mackerel sushi – a bit like the use of kombu in the

kyoto version of the same dish. you must have just remembered the word “ryukyu” and assumed

she was referring to the islands. but i’m guessing that crunchy texture is bringing back memories.’

‘so that’s what that was all about!’ tomomi munched away at the ‘ryukyu’, a pensive look on

his face.

‘i don’t mean to pry,’ began nagare hesitantly, ‘but can i ask why you were eating sushi at that

ryokan in the first place?’

‘mine was a rather sad little family, you see. father was hardly ever home and my mother was

always busy during the day. i never really experienced the kind of warmth most people associate

with the word “family”. but the ryokan owner was kind. whenever she saw me moping about in

front of my house, she’d invite me over.’ tomomi’s eyes glistened, a distant look coming over his

face.

‘and that was haruko, eh?’

‘i just remembered something. whenever i was eating the sushi, she’d always ask, “tasty?” so

of course, i’d tell her yes, it’s tasty, thank you. but then she’d ask me again: “tasty?” it was sort

of annoying having to repeat myself every time i tried a slice, so eventually i blurted out

something like, “i already told you it’s tasty!” and, well . . .’

‘she flipped?’ asked koishi, leaning in close.

‘“you rude little thing,” she said. “sometimes once isn’t enough!” she had this scary look on

her face. my parents never told me off like that.’

tomomi’s eyes were riveted to the ceiling as he recalled these bygone days. ‘then she turned to

me and said something like, “we get used to things too easily. you think something’s tasty the

first time you eat it, but then you start taking it for granted. never forget your first impressions.”

ah, this sushi is bringing back all sorts of memories.’ by now tomomi was gazing lovingly at the

dish in front of him.

‘tell me,’ nagare broke in. ‘do you remember haruko’s motto? the person who taught me

how to make the sushi told me about a certain phrase that was always on her lips.’

‘hmm, i can’t say i do . . .’ said tomomi. ‘as i said, this was fifty years ago.’ his phone

buzzed in his pocket. another message.

‘sorry, you’re in a rush. koishi, wrap the leftovers up for him, would you?’

‘sure thing. mr yamada, i assume you won’t be needing a taxi this week either?’

tomomi nodded, and koishi rushed off to the kitchen.

‘i’m very sorry to have rushed you like this.’

‘the important thing is that we were able to find what you were looking for!’ said nagare, a

relieved look on his face. ‘it’s a weight off my mind, i tell you!’

‘i’m just glad i spotted your advert in gourmet monthly,’ said tomomi, breaking into a smile.

‘but that doesn’t even give our location, or any contact details!’ said nagare, smiling. ‘all it

says is kamogawa diner – kamogawa detective agency – we find your food. people go up and

down the kamogawa river looking for us.’

‘plus you don’t even have a sign,’ said tomomi, somehow managing to grin and glower at the

same time.

‘oh, if we put a sign up we’d be overwhelmed,’ replied nagare calmly. ‘people would go on

those silly websites and write all sorts of reviews. no – we do just fine with our regulars.’

‘we don’t want the place to start filling up with so-called gourmets and experts and the like!’

chipped in koishi from the kitchen.

‘so how did you find us?’ said nagare, looking tomomi in the eye.

‘i asked akane, the editor-in-chief, about this place. or rather, forced her to tell me about it.’

‘so akane is an acquaintance of yours?’

‘oh, i wouldn’t really say she’s an acquaintance . . .’ mumbled tomomi, looking away.

‘well, if you read gourmet monthly, you must have a pretty keen interest in food.’

‘every issue,’ said tomomi, with a wry smile. ‘and it kept bothering me, that bit about we

find your food.’

‘that one-line advert is the only way for anyone to find us,’ said nagare, matching tomomi’s

expression.

‘then you could at least add a bit more detail!’ tomomi’s face had turned serious again.

‘fate works in mysterious ways.’ nagare fixed tomomi with his gaze. ‘i reckon we always

meet the people we’re supposed to meet. which is why you ended up walking through that door.’

‘yes, i suppose it really was fate,’ said tomomi, as though deeply moved.

‘people do contact the publisher from time to time. but akane doesn’t normally spill the beans,’

said nagare, eyeing tomomi curiously.

‘i suppose my fixation with this sushi must have won her over. i mean, i’ve been thinking about

it for fifty years. i’m just lucky i had that day off last week . . .’

‘it really was an obsession of yours, then,’ asked nagare, his voice tinged with admiration.

‘you know, i once dreamed of being a chef like you. making people happy with my cooking,’

replied tomomi. ‘not that my father would ever have let me,’ he added with a self-deprecating

look.

‘oh, it’s not just chefs who make people happy,’ said nagare with an air of certainty.

‘very true. that’s why i chose my current profession – because i wanted to make people

happy.’

‘good for you, i say.’

‘but in my line of work, we don’t always get to give people what they want. in fact, sometimes

we try and force something on them which they find downright unappealing.’

‘well, you know what they say: sometimes the bitterest medicine works best.’

‘exactly. the thing is, i only ever thought about it from the perspective of the person

administering the medicine. if you want to stay healthy, sometimes you have to swallow a bitter

pill – in other words, people should just sort of grin and bear things. i never stopped to think how

it might actually feel to be on the receiving end. i decided to remind myself just how important it

was to eat something you really like . . .’

‘and that was why you went looking for the mackerel sushi from your youth?’

tomomi answered nagare’s question with a simple nod.

‘this has made me see everything much more clearly. again, sorry for rushing you – but i

promise there was a reason for the hurry.’

‘well, that’s good to hear,’ said nagare, looking tomomi right in the eye. ‘serve people the

best food you can, and if the leftovers are less appealing, then eat them yourself. that’s the way

we’ve always done things here.’

‘sorry for the wait!’ said koishi, arriving with the sushi wrapped up in a paper bag. tomomi

took this as his cue to leave.

‘so, how much do i owe you?’ he asked, getting his wallet out.

‘we let our clients decide what to pay,’ replied koishi. ‘whatever feels right. just transfer it to

this account, please.’ she handed him a slip of paper with their payment details.

‘understood,’ said tomomi, sliding it into his wallet. ‘i’ll take care of it as soon as i get back.

with a little bonus for the express service.’

‘travel safely,’ said nagare, seeing tomomi to the door.

‘thank you,’ said tomomi, stepping outside the restaurant and turning to bow deeply.

‘i’m just glad we could help you,’ said koishi, smiling at nagare’s side.

‘well, goodbye then!’

tomomi began walking, but after a few paces came to a halt and wheeled around to face them.

‘i just remembered. that motto of haruko’s you mentioned. never lose sight of your ideals.

that was it, wasn’t it?’

‘bingo!’ said nagare, giving him a thumbs-up.

tomomi gave a quick bow, then turned and began walking. the shiny black sedan drew up

alongside him.

‘mr yamada!’ called nagare. tomomi started and turned around again.

‘please. we’re counting on you!’

nagare bowed his head slightly. tomomi smiled and nodded, then turned on his heel and

carried on walking.

‘mr yamada seemed very happy with that, didn’t he?’ said koishi, turning to face nagare.

‘great work once again, dad.’ she glanced down at her feet to find drowsy, who immediately

mewed at her.

‘don’t underestimate the power of a slice of lowly mackerel sushi,’ said nagare with a sigh.

‘that one dish might just have changed the future of the country, koishi!’

‘the . . . country? dad, you’re exaggerating again,’ she replied, thumping him on the back.

‘don’t get too full of yourself!’

‘never mind, then. let’s just look forward to that bank transfer, eh? right, time to tuck in to the

rest of that sushi!’

‘oh, dad, i wanted to ask. why did you make seven rolls of sushi, but only pick one?’

‘well, i was experimenting with the seasoning of the vinegar, the cut of mackerel, and how long

to marinate it. the second one from the right ended up tasting best. just because someone’s

nostalgic about a certain dish doesn’t mean you can get away with some sub-par imitation. if you

really want them to say, “ah, this tastes just like it did back then!” then it has to be truly mouth-

watering.’

‘oh, no. does that mean we’re having a load of sub-par sushi for dinner?’

‘i meant relatively speaking! i think you’ll find they’re all pretty delicious, actually. oh, that

reminds me. i picked up some nice sake in tosa. one’s called suigei, the other minami. i hear

they’re pretty special.’

‘brilliant! nothing like a bit of sake in the afternoon. still, dad . . . do you really think we can

get through a whole two bottles on our own?’ she seemed to be asking his permission for

something.

‘well, if it’s hiroshi you’re planning on inviting, at least get him to bring a tray of sashimi!’

‘how did you know?’

‘oh, it’s written all over your face. anyway, i’m a detective, remember? i don’t forget

important clues – like the fact that hiroshi also closes on wednesdays.’

‘real pro, aren’t you!’ said koishi, giving him another thump on the back.

‘just very good at reading what’s on my daughter’s mind is all.’

‘which is probably why i’m such a heavy drinker.’

‘hey, enough complaining! come on, help me get ready,’ said nagare, turning towards the altar

in the corner. ‘we can’t keep your mother waiting!’