The Looking-Back Ghost Tale (A Side Story of Hoichi the Earless) [Night 5] Grilled Rice Balls and Voiceless Tea (Serialized Short Story)

A ghost tale told by a woman of Seikan-ji Temple, night after night.
What is told is the ending of someone who lived in Gion—
However, that ending is not just one.
The same strange occurrence, different endings.
The truth is left to the ears of the reader.
The side story of 'Hoichi the Earless', 'The Looking-Back Ghost Tale', is now unveiled here.

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Night 5: Grilled Rice Balls and Voiceless Tea

◇

Welcome, thank you for coming.
Tonight, I bring you a slightly mysterious story that took place at a certain teahouse in Gion around the time of the festival.

When the lanterns sway, the scent of grilling dumplings fills the alley, and the sound of drums approaches from afar—
The town is lively, the teahouse is busy, and everyone is smiling.

However, that is not all.
In the midst of that, there was one person, quietly trying to swallow something.

Was there anyone who noticed those feelings, or did no one notice at all?
There is not just one ending.
However, I will not say which one was the truth.
But first—I would like you to listen to one path.

Please, while having some tea, lend me your ears at your leisure.

—Pluck...
The sound of a biwa rings out once from the corner of the darkness.

◇◇◇◇◇

The sound of a flute flowed through the town of Gion.
The sound of festival music rose from here and there, red lanterns in the alleys,
Children ran as if jumping, and adults watched them and laughed.
To say that the festival is near does not mean only the gods are excited.
People, too, are excited.

At the corner of such a street, there was a small teahouse.
It is called 'Sanpuku'.
Even if the noren curtain is soot-stained, the aroma is top-notch.
Grilled rice balls, dumplings, and hot roasted green tea—
It is just right for sitting down for a moment, morning or evening.

Now, the master of that 'Sanpuku' is Danzo.
Taciturn and unsociable, but a craftsman who does not cut corners in his work.
And then, there is one daughter. Her name is O-Sachi.
She is seventeen, her appearance is decent. She was a girl of few words.

This morning, too, Danzo had already started the fire and was tending to the charcoal.

'...If you burn it too much, it gets bitter,'

To the voice that muttered, a voice replied a little late,

'I know.'

You can tell without turning around. It is O-Sachi.
O-Sachi was holding a broom and sweeping the entrance.

Her eyes, watching her father's back, were gentle, yet somehow distant.
'You used to burn them a lot when you were younger.'

'I don't burn them now.'

'...Is that so.'

After that, the two fall silent.

Perhaps being parent and child is about layering such silences.
—However, behind this silence, one small 'hush' was lurking.

◇

When it became midday, regulars gathered one by one at the teahouse.

'I feel like I was raised on the dumplings here.'

'The grilled rice balls, the char is just right this year.'

Danzo, while poking the charcoal,
Muttered only 'That's good,' and responded to the customers' words without excess or deficiency.

As for O-Sachi, she turned the dumplings, poured the tea, and bowed silently.
The customers laughed satisfied with that and asked for refills.

At that moment, one customer muttered suddenly,

'Come to think of it, Yasube-kun has been with the florist's daughter a lot lately. That's a good thing.'

To those words, Danzo only replied 'Oh,' and stared at the charcoal fire as if nothing had happened.

Only O-Sachi's fingers stopped at that moment.
The skewer of dumplings she held fell with a thud from the edge of the hearth.

'O-Sachi-chan, what's wrong?'

'...I'm sorry. My hand just slipped.'

Saying that quietly, she began to grill the dumplings again in silence.
She was smiling—but her cheeks were a little cold.

◇

Late at night, only one light was glowing at the counter.
Danzo was alone, spreading out the ledger and checking the number of catering orders.

The water in the hearth was making a bubbling sound.
Inside the teapot was roasted green tea.
It was the tea leaves his late wife often liked.

'...That wife of mine, she always said it was burnt, it was burnt.'

He muttered, and it was when he poured the tea into a teacup.

Suddenly—

'...Look at O-Sachi.'

He felt he had definitely heard a woman's voice.

Danzo looked up in surprise.
O-Sachi was standing at the entrance of the counter.
She was holding a dumpling skewer in silence, looking at him.

'...O-Sachi.'

He tried to call out—but her eyes looked a little deep.

Danzo stopped speaking and gripped the teacup.

That night—
He said nothing.

And that was the last time.

◇

When dawn broke, Danzo did not wake up.

The charcoal in the hearth was smoldering white, the water had completely cooled, and not a drop of tea remained in the teacup.
In the corner of the counter, one of yesterday's dumpling skewers lay, charred.

O-Sachi quietly raised the noren and sat down at the storefront.
The town was lively again today. The voices of people running for festival preparations, the sound of flutes, the sound of drums.
However, inside 'Sanpuku', there was no smell of charcoal, nor the aroma of tea.

After midday, one regular customer went through the noren,

'Danzo-san, are you there? ...Huh, is it just O-Sachi-chan?'

He called out, but O-Sachi smiled and said this,

'Father seems to be a little tired.'

'Well... it's busy before the festival. But a Sanpuku without Danzo-san is a bit lonely.'

'I'll pour you some tea.'

'I'll have roasted green tea. The tea you pour has gotten good too.'

O-Sachi nodded silently and went back to the counter.
Before long, lukewarm roasted green tea without steam was served.

The customer took a sip and suddenly frowned.

'...It's quite cold.'

'...Yes, it is. The charcoal hasn't been catching since this morning.'

No one felt anything strange about O-Sachi's eyes as she smiled and said that.

◇

At sunset that day, Danzo's figure was nowhere to be found.

No matter who in town he asked, they tilted their heads saying 'I saw him until yesterday,'
And lost in the commotion of the festival, the disappearance of one master was immediately pushed to a corner of the town.

Only O-Sachi continued to hang the teahouse's noren.

There were days when the dumplings were too burnt, and days when they were undercooked.
The grilled rice balls forgot their former fragrance,
And the roasted green tea sometimes contained an indescribable bitterness.

Even so, O-Sachi smiled and said,

'Your tea is getting cold.'

Everyone who heard that voice thought, 'Ah, Sanpuku hasn't changed,'
And while thinking that, they sipped the tea.

◇

...And one night.
Beyond the fire grilling the dumplings,
There were those who said they saw a 'shadow that looked just like Danzo'.

But they said his eyes were pitch black, and there was no smile on his lips.

Everyone in town laughed at that story.
Saying it was just a mistake.

However, that night—
There were not a few who remembered that the smoke rising from 'Sanpuku' looked somehow soot-stained.
◇◇◇◇◇

...Well, this is one path.

A day that passes without noticing,
Can sometimes cool someone's heart, little by little.

The aroma of tea is gentle and fleeting,
And it is a little bit scary, isn't it.

Now—
Then, let us listen to another story from here on.

If, that night—
If one voice had reached the aroma rising from the bottom of the teacup...

—Pluck...
The sound of the biwa that rang quietly tears through the wind and gently illuminates the darkness.

◇◇◇◇◇

The water in the hearth was making a bubbling sound.
In the back of the counter, Danzo was alone, looking at the catering ledger,
And as usual, he was brewing roasted green tea.

The tea leaves were old. On the edge of the bag, in his wife's handwriting, it said 'Yamabuki'.

If he closed his eyes, what came to mind was the way she handled grilling dumplings,
And that voice complaining about the char on the rice balls.

'For O-Sachi, make sure it's not bitter.'

—That wife of mine, Danzo softens his lips.

He pours tea into a cup and inhales the aroma.
In the roasted aroma of the tea, a slightly different presence was mixed in.

Even though there was no wind, the noren swayed.

And—

'...Look at O-Sachi.'

It was like the wind, like steam,
A voice that slipped in at an unexpected moment.

Danzo looks up in surprise.
Standing at the entrance was O-Sachi.

She was holding a dumpling skewer in one hand, smiling.
However, that smile was somehow stuck on,
—The smile of someone who had swallowed their words.

'O-Sachi... are you crying?'

Danzo said quietly.

O-Sachi's hand trembled slightly.

'...No, it's nothing.'

'It's not nothing. I was watching you, who always had a face that said it was nothing.'

'...Father, you didn't notice... all this time, I...'

Saying that much, O-Sachi hung her head.

Danzo put down the teacup and gently placed his hand on O-Sachi's shoulder.
There was the sound of charcoal popping.

Then, the two were silent for a while.
That silence had a slightly different color from that cold silence.

◇

The next morning, the noren of 'Sanpuku' was raised.
The fragrant aroma of grilled rice balls brushed through the alley.
The sound of dumplings grilling could be heard from the back of the shop.

Danzo stood at the grill, and O-Sachi was brewing tea.

'O-Sachi's tea is still a little thin.'

'I'm making sure it's not bitter.'

'Haha, that's right, wasn't it.'

At the storefront, the townspeople were laughing together,
And the sound of the festival music flowed, rising and falling, far and near.

One of the customers said,

'Sanpuku is the best after all. It's a taste that doesn't change.'

'It's a parent and child that doesn't change.'

Danzo laughed.
O-Sachi also narrowed her eyes and laughed.
Those eyes were no longer cloudy.

◇

That night, the smoke of Sanpuku was rising straight into the sky.
Carrying the warm aroma of roasted green tea.

◇◇◇◇◇

...It smelled good, didn't it.

A voice cannot be seen with the eyes,
But when it reaches properly, there is no sediment left at the bottom of the teacup.

Did it reach, or did it not reach?
That is something only those who remembered the aroma of the tea would know.

Tonight's story ends here.
However, if you ever walk through the town of Gion—
Please be careful of the scents in the alleys.

That is surely the remnants of someone's voice.



—Pluck...
The lingering sound disappears far into the bottom of the night.

Well then, let us meet again.

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