The Second Generation Hagi Ware Teacup

It was placed haphazardly alongside other teacups. In a cafeteria at the entrance to a camellia grove, it was rolling around as if discarded on a desk beside the restroom, separate from the Hagi ware sold as souvenirs.

This was my second trip to Hagi; the first time was the year I entered university. I stayed in a cheap inn sharing a room with strangers and toured the town on a rental bicycle. I remember asking, 'Where is Yoshida Shoin's school?' and being scolded with, 'You must call him Shoin-sensei,' and running toward the beach when I saw the ocean, only to be drenched by a large wave that crashed over my head.

At that time, I bought a Hagi ware teacup as a souvenir for myself. It was an expensive purchase for a college student—no, even for me now—but I had been captivated by the rustic flavor of the clay.

Since then, I used it almost every day for about thirty years, until one day, the teacup suddenly shattered as if it were crumbling. I was stunned, wondering what had happened, but it seems that Hagi ware, once thoroughly used, eventually returns to the earth in this way. The teacup I had fallen in love with at first sight and cherished daily had lived out its natural life.

After that, I used several other teacups, but I couldn't forget the crumbled Hagi ware. I had thought about buying one if I found something similar on this trip to Hagi, but I never expected to find an identical one in a box marked 'clearance' with a magic marker! When I picked it up, the stamp on the bottom was likely the same. When I asked the shopkeeper, they said it was from a kiln that had gone out of business and, since there was no box, it would be five hundred yen.

I bought it in great excitement and walked up the mountain path leading to the observation deck while holding the teacup, much to the bewilderment of my companion. It was certainly difficult to walk with my hands full, but this was no ordinary teacup; to me, it was like being reunited with a deceased partner. Since it was right after I arrived in Hagi, I was absent-minded at all the Hagi ware facilities and souvenir shops from the next day on. After all, my soulmate was already in my bag.

Today, I am drinking bitter Japanese tea from this second-generation Hagi ware teacup. No matter how much I love something, everything with a form will eventually disappear. But I hope that as long as I am alive, it will not crumble like the previous teacup.