Хироми Каваками - Strange Weather in Tokyo [= The Briefcase]

Nobody ever taught us that in class. I pouted.

Toru burst into laughter. “They don’t teach the really important things in school, do they?” he said. Sensei stood erect as he listened to Toru’s guffaws.

Finally, he said quietly, “A person can learn all manner of things, no matter where he finds himself, provided his spirit is determined.”

“Your teacher, he’s hilarious, you know?” Toru said, having himself another good laugh. Sensei took a plastic bag out of his briefcase and quietly put the Cordyceps in it, tying off the top. He put it back into his briefcase.

“All right then, we’re going in further. We have to, if we want to find enough to fill our bellies with,” Satoru said, stepping between the trees. The rest of us broke out of line, everyone looking at their feet as we moved forward. Sensei’s tweed suit blended in among the trees, providing him with a sort of natural camouflage. Even when I thought he was directly in front of me, if I happened to look away, I would quickly lose sight of him. Wondering where he’d gone, I’d look around to find him standing right beside me.

“Sensei, there you are, right here,” I’d call out to him, and he’d respond in a strange voice, “I’m not going anywhere,” trailing off in a chuckle. Within the forest, Sensei seemed quite different from his usual self. He was like a woodland creature who had lived among the trees since ancient times.

“Sensei,” I called out to him again. I felt lonely.

“Tsukiko, didn’t I say that I’d stay right by your side?”

Despite what he had said, Sensei—being Sensei—would go on ahead, leaving me behind. Tsukiko, pull yourself together. You always have the wrong attitude, he would say as he kept right on moving.

I heard the ta-ra-ra-ra-ra , much closer this time. Sensei went off into the trees. Idly, I stood and watched him go. What am I doing here , I wondered to myself. I caught a glimpse of Sensei’s tweed coat between the trees.

“Inky cap modashi !” Satoru shouted from further ahead. “A whole colony of them! Lots more than last year!” Satoru’s voice (or was it Toru’s?) was full of excitement as it echoed throughout the forest.

I WAS SITTING on a large tree stump and looking up at the sky.

Sensei and Satoru and Toru had all ventured much further into the forest. The ta-ra-ra-ra-ra was now off in the distance and in its place I could hear a high-pitched ru-ru-ru-ru-ru .

The area where I sat was slick with dampness. It wasn’t just that the ground was moist—all around me, it felt like it was bursting: with the leaves on the trees, the undergrowth, the countless microorganisms under the ground, the flat bugs crawling over the surface, the winged insects flitting through the air, the birds perched on branches, even the breath of the larger animals that inhabited the deeper forest.

I could only see a small patch of sky, the part that was left open between the treetops of the forest around me. The branches seemed like a network that in some places almost obscured the sky. Once my eyes had adjusted to the faint light, I realized that the undergrowth was alive with all manner of things. Tiny orange mushrooms. Moss. Something that looked like coarse white veins on the underside of a leaf. What must be some kind of fungus. Dead beetles. Various kinds of ants. Centipedes. Moths on the backs of leaves.

It seemed strange to be surrounded by so many living things. When I was in Tokyo, I couldn’t help but feel like I was always alone, or occasionally in the company of Sensei. It seemed like the only living things in Tokyo were big like us. But of course, if I really paid attention, there were plenty of other living things surrounding me in the city as well. It was never just the two of us, Sensei and me. Even when we were at the bar, I tended to only take notice of Sensei. But Satoru was always there, along with the usual crowd of familiar faces. And I never really acknowledged that any of them were alive in any way. I never gave any thought to the fact that they were leading the same kind of complicated life as I was.

Toru came back to where I was sitting.

“Tsukiko, everything okay?” he asked as he showed me the handfuls of mushrooms he had collected.

“Totally fine. Really,” I replied.

“Well, I wish you would have come along with us,” Toru said.

“Tsukiko can be a tad bit sentimental.” The instant I realized this was Sensei’s voice, he suddenly and unexpectedly emerged from the shade of the trees just behind me. Whether it was because his suit acted as protective coloring or he was particularly surefooted in the forest, until that moment I had been completely unaware of his presence.

“You were sitting there all alone, lost in your thoughts, weren’t you?” Sensei went on. There were fallen leaves stuck here and there on his tweed jacket.

“Do you mean to say she’s a girlish romantic?” Toru asked as he roared with laughter.

“Girlish, indeed!” I replied, deadpan.

“Well, then, would the young Miss Tsukiko like to help me prepare the soup?” Toru said, reaching into Satoru’s rucksack and taking out an aluminum pot and a portable cooking stove.

“Could you fetch some water?” he asked, and I hurriedly stood up. He told me there was a stream just ahead, so I walked over to find water springing forth among large rocks. Catching some water in my palms, I brought it to my lips. The water was icy cold, yet smooth and mellow. I caught more of it with my palms, bringing it to my lips over and over again.

“HAVE A TASTE,” Satoru said to Sensei, who was sitting up straight, Japanese-style, his feet tucked under his legs on a newspaper that had been spread over the ground. Sensei sipped the mushroom soup.

Satoru and Toru had skillfully prepared the mushrooms they had collected. Toru had cleaned the mushrooms of any dirt or mud, and Satoru had torn the large ones into pieces, leaving the smaller ones as they were, before briefly sautéing them in a small frying pan they had also brought along. Then he put the sautéed mushrooms into the pot of already boiling water, stirred in some miso, and let it all simmer for a little while.

“I studied up a bit last night for our trip,” Sensei said, as he blew on the soup, cupping in both hands the alumite bowl that reminded me of old-fashioned cafeteria ware.

“You studied up? Isn’t that just like a teacher!” Toru responded, heartily slurping his soup.

“There are many more kinds of poisonous mushrooms than I realized,” Sensei said, snaring a piece of mushroom with his chopsticks and popping it in his mouth.

“Hmmm, well…,” Satoru murmured. Having already drained his first bowl, he was just that moment ladling out a second serving.

“The really poisonous ones, you shouldn’t even think about putting them near your mouth.”

“Sensei, please stop! At least while we’re eating,” I pleaded, but he paid no attention to me. As usual.

“But the trouble is, it seems the kaki-shimeji mushroom looks exactly like the matsutake , and the tsukiyotake mushroom is indistinguishable from the shiitake , and so on.”

Sensei’s gravely serious tone caused Satoru and Toru to burst into laughter.

“Sensei, we’ve been collecting mushrooms for more than ten years now, and we’ve never once seen mushrooms as strange as that.”

I now returned my chopsticks, which had been suspended in the air, to my alumite soup bowl. Unsure of whether or not Satoru and Toru had taken notice of my hesitation, I cast a furtive upward glance in their direction, but neither of them seemed to be paying any attention to me.