Even Corn Has Its Code of Honor
“...They’re boiled.”
The brewery owner’s words cut through the air of the cramped office.
On the table, two golden ears of corn, billowing with steam, stood like temple guardians.
“Do you want butter?”
“I do not!”
“How about soy sauce?”
“Don’t be uncouth!”
“...Are you a salt person, then?”
“Why would I add anything? Just sinking my teeth into this golden skin is enough!”
The brewery owner reached out first.
It was hot. He knew it. Knowing full well, he grabbed both ends of the corn.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.”
He flapped his fingertips and pulled at his earlobes.
He steeled himself and grabbed it again. Jiro, not to be outdone, snatched up his own share.
The two of them,
“Phew, phew,”
“Hot, hot, hot,”
“Oh, oh,”
repeating movements like small animals.
Chomp. Pop.
Sweet.
A sweetness that could only be called the taste of summer burst throughout my mouth.
Hot.
Sweet.
Delicious.
The two of them were absorbed in it.
One turn. Another turn.
They rotated the cob with their fingers, shaving off the kernels row by row with their front teeth. The yellow kernels vanished one after another.
Only the sound of chewing and the creaking of an old electric fan oscillating back and forth melted into the night in Senju-Asahi-cho.
When they finished eating one cob, Kuramoto, still wearing a look of satisfaction, compared his plate with Jiro's.
On Jiro's plate lay a stark white cob, as cleanly stripped as if a craftsman had carved it.
In contrast, on Kuramoto's plate lay a ruin with kernels still scattered here and there.
Kuramoto looked at it.
“...What is this?”
“...Kuramoto-san.”
“There is... still some left.”
Kuramoto took out a toothpick.
“Wait. There's still more.”
“No, it's already finished.”
“There is.”
Picking up a single small kernel, the brewery owner put it in his mouth.
"..."
"..."
"It's sweet."
"No, that's not the point."
The brewery owner looked at his plate once more.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did my teeth miss that one row?"
"Brewery owner, that's a pathetic excuse."
"..."
Remaining silent for a while, the brewery owner moved his mouth.
"..."
"Brewery owner?"
"What is it?"
"You should probably bring dental floss next time."
"..."
"Is just the string enough? Would an F-shaped or Y-shaped one with a handle be better?"
"..."
"Also, interdental brushes too."
The brewery owner slowly looked up.
“...I will never eat with you again.”
Outside the window, a freight train passed by toward Kanamachi, its heavy iron wheels screeching.
~The Brewery Owner's Battle~