The scent of the sea brought him home. The scent of sweet bean paste brought him back to him.
Ten years ago, Minato left the sleepy seaside town of Shiomi-cho with a camera in his hands, three words caught in his throat, and a roll of film he never developed. He made it in Tokyo—his photographs are flawless, published, praised. But flawless isn't the same as alive, and lately his camera feels heavier than it should.
Now he's back, ostensibly on assignment. Really, he's back for the boy he left
Scent of Sea Breeze and Sweet Bean Paste - Confession of a Mortgage - The Ten Years I Didn't Know, and the Kindness That Pushed Me Away
The scent of the tide drifted all the way into the hallway of the community hall at dusk.
Early August. The height of summer should have passed, yet the air still clung to the skin, heavy and hot. Minato stood in a corner of the meeting room on the second floor of the Shiomi Town Community Hall, absently gazing at an old black-and-white photograph hanging on the wall. Shiomi Port in the mid-Showa era. Fishing boats packed shoulder to shoulder, fish crates piled like mountains on the wharf. A sight no longer possible—the town in its most bustling days.
(So people really did overflow this place back then.)
To someone who knew only the shuttered shopping street by the station, it seemed like a different town from a distant past.
The meeting room had drawn more people than expected. Forty or so, perhaps. Folding chairs were lined up, and most of them were filled with heads of white hair or thinning crowns. The landowners. The shopkeepers of the Shiomi Ginza-dori, the owners of the port warehouses, the holders of land in the Shinmachi district. All of them wore the same difficult expression, staring straight ahead.
Minato stood by the wall with his camera bag still slung over his shoulder, watching. He'd come intending to gather material—a preliminary visit to discuss with the editorial team whether to include coverage of the redevelopment briefing in the shopping district feature. But the real reason was different.
(Where's Yuuma sitting?)
He scanned with his eyes. Near the middle of the room, slightly toward the back, was the back of Yuuma's head, clad in a white shirt. His chestnut hair was neatly trimmed short, his spine perfectly straight. Beside him sat Kento in a dark navy suit. There was no conversation between them. Kento faced forward, occasionally glancing at his wristwatch.
(What happened to those two after that?)
Several weeks had passed since Kento had come to Matsubaya to explain the redevelopment. That day, Kento had pressed Yuuma for consent. And Minato had seen something hidden behind Kento's smile. He'd understood instinctively—that Kento, too, held special feelings for Yuuma.
Since then, the three of them had never been in the same room. Minato still visited Matsubaya as always, but Kento never appeared at the shop. Yuuma said nothing about Kento. Minato couldn't bring himself to ask.
(Kento's here today. Just that alone makes me feel like something's going to happen.)
Something stirred restlessly in the depths of his chest.
Eventually, a man stood at the front of the meeting room, beside the white screen affixed to the wall.
Mashiba Tooru.
The redevelopment manager for Orbis Urban Development. Thirty-two years old. Neatly cropped black hair, a crisp white dress shirt with a slim tie. A simple silver ring on his right hand. Married. Tall, with good posture. The kind of man whose mere presence seemed to lower the temperature of the room by a degree.
"Everyone, thank you for gathering in this heat today. I'm Mashiba, in charge of the redevelopment plan at Orbis Urban Development."
Mashiba's voice was low and carried well. Polite, composed, without waste. His bearing made it clear he was the type to offer his business card first.
"Now then, please look at the materials in your hands. Today, I'd like to report on matters that have progressed since last month's briefing."
Mashiba operated the laptop, and a map appeared on the screen. A full view of Shiomi Town. The street running from the station to the port, drawn as seen from directly above.
Minato looked at the screen.
In the center of the map, around the Shiomi Ginza-dori area, there was a section enclosed by red lines. That section was colored a deeper red than the rest. It looked as though only that spot on the map were burning.
"This section marked in red is the core area of the current redevelopment plan. We intend to build a new main street here that will serve as a route to the marina."
Mashiba indicated the red portion of the screen.
"The starting point of this main street will be here."
The red dot of the laser pointer stopped at a single point on the map.
Minato's breath stopped.
It was Matsubaya.
The center of Shiomi Ginza-dori, on the east side of the street. Five bays wide, twelve meters deep. A two-story wooden building painted black. The indigo noren curtain swaying in the wind—that shop.
(Matsubaya is the center of the plan...?)
Minato looked at Yuuma's back. Yuuma hadn't moved a muscle, facing forward. His posture revealed nothing of what he was thinking.
"For those of you who hold rights to land or buildings within this section, we are arranging individual consultation opportunities. Some of you have already given your consent."
Mashiba's voice remained thoroughly businesslike. No emotional inflection whatsoever. As if reading a weather forecast, he lined up only the facts, one after another.
(Doesn't this guy know what Matsubaya is?)
Something burned hot in the depths of Minato's chest.
(How long that shop has lived alongside this town. How much Yuuma has carried on his shoulders to protect that noren.)
(This guy knows nothing.)
Mashiba switched the map on the screen, projecting a concept image of a new commercial facility. A low-rise glass building, wide sidewalks, planted street trees. The kind of safe, pretty picture you'd seen somewhere before.
"If this plan is realized, we estimate the interchange population of Shiomi Town will more than triple its current level. In the commercial facility, we plan to secure sections where local businesses can also open shops. We believe this is a realistic option for this town."
A realistic option.
Minato hated those words. Realistic—as if that word could erase the time people had lived, the smells soaked into the shops, all of it.
"Of course, we are not forcing anyone. Ultimately, it is the decision of each and every landowner. We are merely here to assist."
With that, Mashiba turned off the screen.
"Thank you very much for taking time from your busy schedules to gather today. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact us at any time through Hatayama Real Estate. We would be grateful for your understanding."
We would be grateful for your understanding.
With those words, the briefing ended.
The landowners began to rise, murmuring. Some sighed, some spoke in low voices with their neighbors, some walked out quickly in silence. The reactions varied.
Minato couldn't move from where he stood.
(Matsubaya is the center of the plan.)
(Did Yuuma know about this?)
(Did Kento know, and still come to the shop that day?)
Countless questions swirled in his head.
Yuuma stood. Kento followed. The two walked side by side toward the exit of the meeting room.
Minato followed them.
The community hall corridor was stained orange by the evening sun. The old linoleum floor cast long shadows. As the landowners headed for the stairs, Yuuma and Kento stood side by side at the end of the hallway.
"Yuuma."
Kento grabbed Yuuma's arm.
Yuuma stopped.
"...We need to talk. Minato, you come too."
Kento had noticed Minato approaching from behind. He said it without turning around.
Minato nodded without a word.
The three of them went out to a small courtyard behind the community hall.
In the courtyard was a single old stone bench. Weeds grew wild around it. No one tended it, apparently. The smell of summer grass was thick and stifling. Cicadas sang in the distance.
Kento didn't sit. He stood and faced the two of them.
His black hair, parted seven-to-three, was not a strand out of place. His navy suit had not a single wrinkle. The silver watch on his left wrist caught the evening sun and glinted.
But his face—Minato had never seen it like this.
The smile had vanished from Kento's face.
That refreshing smile that could get along with anyone. His narrow eyes were now just painfully squinted. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched faintly.
"...I'm sorry. There's something I have to tell you both."
Kento's voice was trembling.
That voice, always so confident and light. Now it was a thin, strained sound, squeezed from the back of his throat.
"A mortgage has been set on Matsubaya's land and building. Since my old man Ryuzou's time. When Yuuma's father, Seiichi, borrowed money to renovate the shop, he put up the land and building as collateral."
Minato had forgotten to breathe.
(A mortgage.)
(So that rumor was true.)
Maruyama Masako and Otsuka Mitsu had whispered about it at the shop entrance that day. That the shop's land and building supposedly had a mortgage held by some real estate company.
Kento continued.
"The remaining debt is about eighteen million yen. Repayments have been continuing without delay so far. But if you agree to the redevelopment, that debt will be forgiven. That's the condition that's been presented in discussions with Orbis."
Kento looked at Yuuma's face.
Yuuma was expressionless.
"I couldn't tell you that properly. I explained the redevelopment. But the mortgage, the debt forgiveness condition—I didn't say it. I couldn't."
Kento's voice trembled harder.
"When I took over the company from my old man, I was forced into the role of liaison for this redevelopment. As a local real estate agent, I was to go between the landowners and Orbis. I wasn't in a position to refuse. My old man had gotten in so deep with Orbis that he couldn't pull out anymore."
Kento exhaled deeply once.
"As the liaison, I had to talk to you about the redevelopment. But at the same time, as your childhood friend, I hated myself for lying to you more than I could bear. Every single day, that's all I thought about."
Kento's eyes were faintly moist.
Minato was seeing Kento like this for the first time.
(Kento, you...)
"And one more thing. Yuuma. I've liked you for a long time—not as a friend. I still do."
Kento's voice dissolved into the air of the courtyard.
The cicadas sang in the distance.
Minato couldn't move.
(Kento likes Yuuma.)
(The same feelings as mine.)
He'd known. He'd sensed it vaguely. That day at Matsubaya, the soft look Kento had given Yuuma. That wasn't the look you gave a mere childhood friend.
But hearing it put into words, something deep in his chest ached sharply.
(I couldn't say it for ten years.)
(Kento just said it.)
(What I couldn't do, Kento did.)
Kento didn't look away from Yuuma.
"That's why it was so painful to talk to you about the redevelopment. Every night I couldn't sleep, knowing I was doing something like destroying your shop, your life, with my own hands. But to protect my old man's company, I had no choice. ...I'm sorry. I'm the worst."
Kento bowed deeply.
His suited shoulders trembled faintly.
Minato looked at the top of Kento's bowed head and couldn't say anything.
(Kento was suffering.)
(While I was in Tokyo chasing nothing but photos that would sell, Kento was here in this town, alone.)
(I knew nothing.)
For ten years, he'd left his hometown and lived thinking only of himself. That Yuuma had been protecting the shop alone, that Kento had been suffering, caught between two sides—he'd known none of it.
"...I knew all of it."
It was a quiet voice.
Minato raised his head.
Yuuma was quietly looking down at Kento's bowed head. Those light brown eyes held neither anger nor sorrow—only calm.
"The mortgage, the debt forgiveness condition, the fact that Kento was forced into the liaison role. I knew all of it."
Kento raised his face.
"...You knew?"
Kento's voice cracked.
"Yeah. Five years ago, right after my old man died, I found out. I was going through the shop's documents and the mortgage contract turned up. So I asked Hatayama Real Estate, and Ryuzou-san told me. Everything."
Yuuma spoke matter-of-factly.
"And when the redevelopment talk started, I'd already heard through town gossip that Orbis was thinking of our section as the center, before Kento officially explained it. Well, this town is small. Se
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