“Invitation To The Sea Of Trees”

After invading Shibuya with our Shinjuku POWER, we settle into a calm week of work, only for the weekend to usher in another outing… it’s Kaori’s Birthday!

On my limited budget, I’ve still planned something nice, but we’re off to a slow start. Both of us needing help to get ready.

“I have not been leaf watching since I was a child. I’ll do your hair?”

She glides towards me on impatient feet - hairspray and comb in hand - while I’m trying to finish my make-up.

I swat her away.

“Fine, fine… is there anything I can do to speed things up?”

I point to the fridge.

“Take the containers out and put the food in my big bento box… it should be in the cupboa- yeah, that one. Thanks!”

“No wonder I could hear you up late last night. Is this all for today?”

I might have gone overboard making everything I know that can be eaten cold, but getting dressed up, going to Yoyogi Park for the first time in ages, and Kaori’s birthday all kinda warranted some extra effort.

“Whatever we don’t eat, we can bring home with us.”

“You will have to carry it all.”

I grin. Make-up finally complete.

“That’s why my outfit is…” I stand and twirl and finish with a pose… what?!.

No applause!

“Sorry, I was tryin- Oh! Neo-Japanesque! Very Crrow! Where did you get it?”

There we go, glutton, that’s the response I was hoping for!

I continue posing as she meekly wipes some sauce from her lip.

“I made it!”

“What? How? When? Have you not been studying?”

Kaori goes from surprised to scolding in a flash.

“I know this is just a year abroad for you, but you have to keep up with your revision! I do not have time to tutor yo-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It was basically an oversized cut-sew. Really didn’t take long. It’s not like I have anything outside of class and work… other than you.”

Her expression remains suspicious - damn, not even a blush - but her curiosity takes over, and she starts intently inspecting the patterns in the fabric.

“You really have chosen a very fitting piece for the season. The rich maple relief on the darker backdrop is lovely.”

She inadvertently touches my arm while drawing a finger along the trail of leaves - there’s the blush - then shyly retreats to her room to change.

“Tai, could you tie this please? Do not fall over this time.”

“Ha-ha! Very funn-” my jaw dislocates and falls under a chair somewhere.

Absolutely putting my homemade outfit to shame, Kaori is draped in an obviously high quality traditional kimono, holding an obi loosely about her waist.

I need guiding through the process of tying it, my consciousness overfilled with every sense of her. She opts to keep the back of the collar slack, allowing the slope of her neck into her shoulders to remain exposed. I could cry the moment she covers it with a faux fur wrap, casting me a sly smile.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

While on the train, Kaori questions just about every bit of my outfit. I end up monologuing like my brother used to.

“I ordered the materials online and had to hand sew everything. The seams are a bit rough, but leaving the yukata loose gives it a billowing effect and a better silhouette.”

The bag for carrying the bento is an oversized furoshiki made from off cuts. Though I did put some straps inside to make it more stable and comfortable.

Kaori listens with her usual level expression, subtle tells play upon her features indicating when she’s particularly interested or amused. It’s beguiling when she reverts to this cold, near unreadable, persona in public. Especially when I know better…

“…anyway, where’d you rent the kimono from? It’s gorgeous!”

“This?” she looks herself over, “I own it.”

Own? I don’t even want to think about how expensive it is!

“My parents have invited me to dinner, so we will not be able to do anything tonight… sadly.”

As disappointing as that is to hear, I guess it’s fair. Family have to come first sometimes. She appears dispirited about the prospect, too, so I better make this part of her birthday count.

“Well, you look beautiful, Kaori... Almost as good as me!”

Really, she looks better, but I’m not telling her that. Don’t need to inflate that ego any further.

Her breath tickles the side of my neck.

This how I die.

“Imagine how good our children would look.”

ǫ̸̧̱͚̹̖̞̪͈̺̘̖̣̖͎̠̙͖͍͆́̈́͂̈́̎͐̆̒̍̓̓̀͆̐͘͘̕͜͝h̵̢̧̡͇̻͙̯̝̹͓̣̰̳̣̹̺̬̓̈́̓̋̾͒̈́̆͂̔͊͗͐̅͌̊̐̑͝s̴̨̡̧̻͔̼̗͔͇̞̹̟̫̜̪̝̱̥͌̐͆͛̀́̇͂̿́͘͠w̴͇̻͙̺̳̲̭̩̹̹̏̀̏̏̓ê̴͖̝͖̳͓̩͉̙͍̘͔̹͔̾͗̽́̿͑́̆͋̿͛͑̐͗͘͜͠ȇ̸̢̢̛̛̝̫̱̩͈̗̠̈́̅͐̏̎̀̂̓̂̏̇̀̑̔͝t̵̛͔̟̠̲͇̗̰̝̭̩̖̦̜͉̰̙̤̫̫̰͑̀͌̐͊́͐́͂̌̆̂̂̈́͊̑̃͝b̷̢̡͙͇̠͚̮̦͕͚̦͙̰̍͘a̸̧̪̫̯̱̗͎̱̎̔ͅb̶̨̲͓̙̼̯̫͇̗͈̳̉̇ͅÿ̷̨̢̛̗̳͓̩̠̼̼̝̼̖̮̜͓͔̣̤́͆́̏̃͗̕ͅj̴̢̟͉͎̩͈̙͚͕̥̯͎̼͉̓̓͆̄̈̓͊̓̏̋̅̋͑̿̅̉̚͝͝ͅȩ̵̡̤͈͓̳̲̒͌̀͂͠s̶̛̛͓̣̼̖̻̻̤̲̮̫͙̗̣̤̣̝͍̙̊̈́͗̆̔͂̓͛́̐̈̃̄́̿̌ū̸̡̨̢̬͓̲̝͐͒́̅̔͊̋́̎͒̀͘͘͜s̸̢̡̨̡̛͖̦̪̩̙͙̘͓͚̅̐̂̓̀͊̔̉̍̾͋͂̇́̂ḩ̴̨̨̛͚͈̰̝͎̘͍̫̹͕͖̺̥̀̋́̉͂̓̾̓̆͊̑̔͜͝ͅͅp̸̢̨̫̙͈͍̪̪͕̦̹̱̉̇͗͆̈́̄́̄̋́͛̂̔̚à̷̝̲͕̝͕̦͑͐͠ṙ̵̺͍̲͖̝̖͎͖̀͆̊͊̾́̄̅̚͜t̷̨̡̡̡̢͈͓̩̺͎͓̮̥̳̜̮̭͙̫̊̀̂̎̂̽́͊̔̃́̚ḯ̵̬̫̍̅̀͛̀͂ç̴̪̖̦̯̲̟̥͛̋̈́́̈́́̈͑͛̀́̒̍̽͝ų̵̡̨̧̫͖̻͎͇̮͍͉̯̝̹͉̯͌̏̈̐̈̇͐̒̄̇̽̉͜͝l̵̡͍̋͗̇̽͆̍͘͘͝͠a̷̧̝̭͔͔̖̯̘̖̪͓̟͇̰̬̬̰̦͚̣͛͋̎̌͂̈́͆͐̐̈́͌̓̕͘ř̷̛͚̇̒́̿́͆͂̅͑̆̆c̴͍͈͈̀͗̂͘͘ḩ̷͔̳̮̯̣̱̩̫͔̫̥̦͓̂̏́̄̍̀̅͊͂̐̂͐̇́̇̄͗̓͆̚ͅr̵̙͕̙̥̋̾̚i̵̺̰̥͎̪͖̻̯̮͒̂͗̄́͘͜s̶̢̡̭̭̯̝̝͙̜̞͕͖̪̖̘̣̊̀̀̅̈́ͅt̵̛̤̰͓͇͇̲͎͙̘͖̜̖̗͖̥͚̺͒̀̍͠

Yup. My poor heart stopped.

It’s nice floating up through the ceiling. Gliding out above the Yamanato Circular Line. Watching the trains crawl round like out of season caterpillars.

Even from this high up, I can still hear her cackling. Is death not distance enough from my torment?

Her menacing, mocking aura like a beacon below…

o̷̢̜̪̤̘͖̦̬̟͓̠̩̊͌̒̃̽͜͠h̶̛͔̯͔̓̎̊͗̿̀n̶̡̨̧̮͎̝͍͚̗͙̘͇̙̙̟̰͕̉̑̃̾̅͐̎̚͝ͅͅo̷̯͌̎͗͋̈́̿͂͗̈̅͛̾̾̔̆͒̚̚̚y̶͎̭̣͎͕̭̞͈̤̤͗͌̆̈͋̆̽̈́́̈͘͜͜͝͝͝ö̴̧͕͙̖̩̫̯̪͎̰̝̭͖̥̟̗̪̞̻͋̕̚͝ͅǜ̵̲̱̖͔͚̏͛͌̏̈̔̂́̇͗̌͑̀̍͠͝d̶̡͓͑͑̓̈̀̆̃̇̉͆͆̑̌͋̆̚͝͠o̴̢̢͕̝͈̮̼̰͖̤͙̠̹͋̍̈̉̀͆̎̎̾̐͘͘̕̕͜͜͝ņ̶̞̥͈̮̅͛̂́̓̊̾͘t̸̢̨̡̲̮̟̼͍͙͕̻̪̻͔̺͚̦̪̲̗̓͆̇̌̽̑͑̚͜͝y̷̰͈͚̘͕̼̑͋̀̈̀͒̿̓̾̍́̒̒͜ơ̶̢̬̲̥̾̊̾̎̎̽̈́͑͑̃̚͠u̴̘̟̺̲̣͚͙͚͉͈̟̜̺͔̙̭͖͉̹̘̜̽̎̾̐̒̎͗̀͠w̴̧̛̩͙͔͈̞͈͈̤̙͕͙͓͕̻̪̬͒̓͘͝į̴̡̩̳̲̯̬͉͔͉̅̌͛̌̒̅͝ͅl̵̨̧̠̼̦̻͙̯̘̻̩͎͈͗̓͋̾̈́̉̈́ͅẏ̶̳̜͆̓̀ț̷̨̧̧̦̰͉̼͚̪͚̙̞̝͎̇̏̆̐̇̿͌̋̕ͅḩ̸̛̛̱̙̝̥͔̩̯͈͓̟̥͎̣͓͌̿̓̓͂̀͆͛́̀͋̄̓̆͜͝ͅį̶̡̢̩̥̫̤̬̼̟͖̂̽̀̽̈́͊̎̿̍̇́͌̾̄͑̃́̋̃͠ͅͅé̸̪̬̥̞̭̗̟͔͉̠̟̫͈̱͕̐̿̊̈́͌̑͗̓̃̾̀̇́͌̓͐͝v̵̛̻͍͍̲̞͎̠̅̿͆̇̀͗̎͆̈́͊͠͝i̵̛̗͕̠̹͎̯͕͔̘̜̙̤̍́́́͂̅̃̈̃̈́̚͠ṋ̴̛͔̝͍͂̔̏ģ̴̛̖̹̟̰͕̉͂͌̋͋̃̄̄̓͑v̶̳̼̊͑͐̈́̔ĭ̷̢̧̻̯͍̙̹͔̳͈͓̳̤̥̫̹̄͂͗̐̿̿x̶͔̹̗̘̠̳̞̱̯̭̯͙͌̀́̌͗͛͊̉̆̿̅̒̉̈̚͝͝͝ͅḛ̶͎̱̯͇̦̌͘n̸̡̢̧̛̛̛̘̩̜̺̞͎͍̥̗̙̼̙̩̦͇̖̓̇́̉̑̈͊́́̑̍̀̋̄͠͝

I slap her hand away from the bento.

“My soul may have left my body, but no food leaves the box until lunch!”

She pouts.

Harajuku is as rammed as ever with throngs of people dressed in their Sunday best. But, for once, we’re not here for the fashion.

We gradually make our way through the park, and Kaori picks out a spot away from the heaviest traffic. It’s not about people watching today.

The ginko and maple trees surround us, putting on a glorious spectacle in gold and crimson. A rehearsal for later in the month when they will be in full autumnal bloom, falling en masse.

I open the bento, finding a few more items missing than expected. Kaori doesn’t even act ashamed and is straight in for more.

It would be annoying if I didn’t actually appreciate her enjoyment of my cooking.

After gorging herself - taking only just enough time and care so as to not get anything on her clothes - she pipes up.

“You said you learned to cook from your mother. Did she teach you these dishes?”

I’d thrown together a mix of staple Japanese and Western finger foods. All things that wouldn’t spoil.

“The fillings, side salad, and stuff like that are all Mom. Maybe with a tweak here or there to suit my tastes better, or because I can’t get the exact ingredients over here. All the rest I taught myself.”

She almost drops a piece of quick brined pickle.

It falls loose from her chopsticks and lands in her open palm below.

The little panic was cute - squeak included - but it could have been fatal for her kimono.

I offer a napkin to keep held underneath, and she nods in acceptance.

“Sorry, that explains why things taste a little inauthentic… but still pleasant. You did well replicating all this in that tiny kitchen. I have never felt comfortable cooking in our rooms.”

Kaori moves onto a sandwich after carefully placing the napkin on her lap. On the surface, she seems contented enough, but she's noticeably tense about later.

I don’t push her to talk about anything deep, not wanting to sour the mood.

“If we make use of the communal area sometime, maybe you could cook for me!”

Biting into an onigiri to present an easy target.

She takes the bait.

“And why would I do that, when I have my own personal chef right next door?”

“Who is he? I’d love to meet him! Maybe he could take over for me.”

Our conversation carries on in much the same vein until…

“It is about time we get going.”

Kaori picks herself up, sighing at what’s to come. She loses balance on her elevated geta and nearly kicks over the leftovers.

“I’m sorry!”

She is straight on her knees, frantically trying to tidy up a spill that was narrowly avoided.

“Hey, don’t worry. You were so clumsy, you even missed making a mess. I’ll pack up, you stand there and be ornamental.”

Kaori glowers and hovers on the edge of the blanket; darting in to grab stuff and hand them to me as soon as she identifies what I’m going for, even if it only saves me a millimetre.

“I do not like feeling indebted. You made everything, the least I can do is tidy.”

I wave her away, as reassuringly as I can manage, and finish putting the last few items back in the bento box.

Before I can sort the bag, Kaori swoops in and deftly wraps things up, holding it out expectantly.

“Here!”

Like a mother with her child’s backpack on the first day of school.

I mawkishly accept.

We wander apprehensively through Yoyogi, the crunch of the first few fallen leaves under foot, until we reach a car-park on the far side. She apologetically makes a call and a short while later is picked up in…

“That’s a hell of a taxi!”

Kaori’s mask of detached seriousness slips into place.

“It is my family’s car.”