Soba Eccentric Okamoto-san #15

Episode 15: The Disappearance of Okamoto-san

( Episode 14: A New Home in Shimanouchi )

Ever since "Kashiwagi" relocated, I had been dropping by once every two or three months. Okamoto-san, on the other hand, seemed to have become extremely busy again, and the frequency of our meetings gradually decreased. Even when we did meet, it was no longer until the last train like before, but had shortened to just an hour or so.

January 2001, nearly a year after "Kashiwagi" moved. After much deliberation, I finally decided to close my Indian restaurant in Matsusaka, "THALI".

I hadn't decided what to do next, but I headed to Osaka for the time being. My new base was a studio apartment near Shin-Osaka Station. There was no particular reason for this. My mother had moved even further into the mountains beyond Takarazuka in Hyogo Prefecture, so I was looking for somewhere near a station and just happened to find it.

It was a location very well-suited for work, just a three-minute run to the Shin-Osaka subway station and five minutes to the Shinkansen station. As I was flipping through the phone book that had been left in my mailbox, wondering what to do next, the phone rang. It was a veteran editor I had worked with in the past. He was inviting me to do some advertising work for a client in Tokyo. I was prepared to do anything, so I gave him an immediate yes before even hearing the details.

The client was a company that delivered organic vegetables on a regular basis. Their sales promotion and advertising office was in Tomigaya, Shibuya, and I soon found myself commuting there almost three days a week.

Three months later, I was introduced to a web design company in Tamachi, and I began receiving regular orders for advertising production from various companies there as well. Furthermore, work started coming in from publishers in Shinjuku and Tsukiji, and I became so busy that I was only returning to Osaka one day a week.

It was a drastic change from my life at "THALI," where I spent every day looking up at countless stars and the dazzling moonlight.

And so, two years had passed since I left Matsusaka.

I had finally lost touch with Okamoto-san, and before I knew it, our connection was completely severed. No matter how many times I called or emailed, I couldn't reach him at all. The swimming club he worked for had branches all over the Kansai region, and I had no idea where he had been assigned.

He didn't seem to be coming to "Kashiwagi" anymore either, and he often became a topic of conversation.

One night, after Kashiwagi-san closed the noren curtain, the two of us had a drinking session. The lights on the tatami side were dimmed, and only the corner of the counter was dimly lit by a bare lightbulb. Kashiwagi-san sat on a folding chair, puffing on a cigarette, and sipping shochu from a measuring cup.

"So, have you heard from Okamoto-chan?"

"No, that's the thing. I can't get through at all. Even when I call his mobile phone, it always goes to voicemail, and even when I send an email, there's absolutely no response."

Kashiwagi-san smiled as he puffed on his Mild Seven.

"Haha, I wonder what he's up to these days. Okamoto-chan is serious, so I suppose it must be work."

"Well, who knows. Actually, his parents came out to Osaka a while ago and I met them. They were very worried, asking if I knew what Hiro was doing now. All I know is that shortly after I returned to Osaka from Matsusaka, he mentioned that the management of the company he was working for wasn't doing well and he didn't know what would happen in the future. I don't know anything beyond that."

Kashiwagi-san opened his mouth slowly.

"Well, Okamoto-chan is just too serious. It would be easier if he were a bit more laid back. I've lived my life thinking that most things will work out somehow."

“That’s true. Okamoto-san has been called a walking electronic dictionary and a computer; he’s an incredibly delicate person with a high IQ. Since he’s a high-performance eccentric, if his balance is thrown off for some reason, it might not be on a normal scale either.”

“Okamoto-chan is such a hard worker, isn’t he? I really think he should just get married soon. How old is Okamoto-chan again?”

“I’m turning thirty-eight this year, so I think Okamoto-san is thirty-nine or forty.”

“Well, his complexion hasn’t been great lately, and even though he eats a lot, he’s become so thin, it makes me worry. I wonder if he’s just too busy with work to think about anything else.”

“He’s the kind of person who takes care of his subordinates even if it means putting himself last. And he’s more patient than anyone else. He’s probably the one who’s the most worn out at the company.”

“Hmm, he really should get married.”

For a few seconds, there was silence, then Kashiwagi-san took a bottle of shochu from the refrigerator, poured it into my glass, and then poured some into his own measuring cup.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Okamoto-chan is surely having a good time.”

“Come to think of it, in an email a while back, he wrote that he’s been sleeping at a manga cafe lately. I thought he might have moved out of his apartment, so I asked him in an email, but I haven’t received a reply since. I think living in a manga cafe would be exhausting no matter how you look at it.”

“What is this manga cafe thing?”

“Yes, they’ve been increasing rapidly lately; they’re places where there are piles of manga, and you can spend all night reading them in a small room like a telephone booth. You can stay overnight, and you have unlimited access to the internet.”

“Huh, so that’s what they have now. I’d like to try this internet thing once too. A manga cafe, that sounds kind of interesting.”

“Yes, they’re actually quite useful. They’re all over the city. Depending on the shop, some even have billiards or darts.”

“Hmm, so kids these days play billiards too, huh.”

“Of course. It feels like a bit of a boom.”

“Hmm, it’s just like a capsule hotel. I’ll have to go sometime.”

“Okamoto-san, in the past, if he wasn’t working alone until one or two in the morning, he’d suddenly start going to the arcade and get obsessed with car racing games. And he even became the number one record holder for that game in the Kansai region. It seems his record wasn’t broken for a long time at an arcade in the Shinsaibashi shopping district. And he’d mutter ‘soba, soba’ while stepping on the white parts of the crosswalk. That’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?”

Kashiwagi-san’s face went soft like a rice cake.

“Come to think of it, he said before that he ate seven or eight bowls of soba in one night at the end of the year. He went all the way to Nara and Kyoto. I believe he went to three or four places in a row.”

“Okamoto-san is quite famous not only in Kansai but also in Shinshu and the northern Kanto region. Some shops even call him the ‘Soba Sage’ or ‘Soba Eccentric.’ Everyone is happy when they realize it’s Okamoto-san. And he seems to become friends with them right away and even eats the staff meals at those shops.”

You rarely see someone who loves soba as much as he does. I was surprised when I first saw Okamoto-chan. I mean, he ate three servings in a row—Nihachi, Shirayuki, and Inaka—all without any sake or side dishes.

On top of that, he kept asking for refills of rice. At first, I wondered if all people from Osaka ate soba like that, but it turns out it's just Okamoto-chan. I thought, 'He's the kind of guy who sells out the shop immediately.'

Kashiwagi-san was usually a man of few words, but once he got going, he would continue talking with a dreamy expression on his face.

“Heh heh. But I can kind of understand how Okamoto-chan feels. My eldest son, for instance, just takes off on his own to some random country without telling anyone. And now, before I know it, he’s working as a fishmonger in America. Honestly, he’s such a strange guy. Well, I suppose he takes after me.”

“A fishmonger in America? That’s incredible.”

Kashiwagi-san puffed on his cigarette with one hand, then slapped his knee with the other and said this.

“Well, you know, Okamoto-chan will be fine. I’m sure he’s wandering around some soba shop somewhere.”

“Okamoto-san likes history too, so maybe he’s gone to Nara, or to Hakone or Kamakura, places he used to visit often during his college days.”

“Ah, there are soba shops in those places too, aren't there?”

“Maybe he’s carrying around a tattered paper bag again, filled to the brim with flyers from soba shops.”

“Heh heh heh. And maybe he’s becoming a regular at various soba shops again. It’s interesting, isn't it?”

The night had grown quite late. Without reaching any particular conclusion, Kashiwagi-san and I drank our casual, enjoyable sake until we both felt sleepy. It was time to head home.

I slid the shop door open with a rattle and gave a slight bow. Kashiwagi-san came out to see me off and slowly raised his hand.

“If you hear from Okamoto-chan, let me know, will you?”

“Oh, yes, I will. Good night.”

“Yeah, good night.”

Leaving the shop, I walked west through the streets of Shimanouchi alone. Watching the yellow neon lights of Super Tamade, I bought a cold tea from a vending machine and took a sip.

I slowly made my way toward Sakaisuji, passing by Korean restaurants, hair salons, and the Shimanouchi Library, until I reached the busy Sakaisuji street, where taxis were lined up in a row. On the sidewalk, women working in the nightlife district, smelling strongly of perfume, were passing by. Everything was just as it always was.

I typed a text message to Okamoto-san, not knowing if it would ever reach him.

“Please contact Kashiwagi-san. He’s really worried about you.”

Episode 16: Final Episode - Love and the Individual. The Turbulent Year of 2004