Food for the Lost

I have never believed in divine intervention, until that one night.

It was a warm mid-April night in Kyoto. I was at a bar crawl event with fellow tourists and the occasional Japanese businessman. As we stumbled out of the maze of bars and izakayas in Pontocho Alley, I said goodbye to my newfound drinking friends as we headed in separate directions back to our hotels.

I grumbled when I passed by the green-leafed Sakura trees dotted around the city, disappointed that I just missed the bloom. It’s a shame, as I saved up for a whole year to make the trip to Japan in the spring. I wanted to experience the pink prettiness of Sakura season like I saw on Instagram. 

Not wanting to let the trip go to waste, I still vlogged my trip. But with the abundance of generic Japan content on social media already, my posts were immediately buried in the algorithm.

It was a shame. If I made it in time to see the Sakura, my posts would get more traction. I just wanted to finally break past 500 followers…

As I wallowed in my social media woes, I opened Google Maps and searched for my hostel. But… I forgot the name of it.

I shouldn’t have tried to match shot-for-shot with those Aussie tourists…

Through my intoxicated mind, I tried to retrace my steps through the historical neighborhoods. I looked through the camera reel on my phone of all the vlogs and selfies I took of the area, desperate to match any streets or alleys that I thought looked familiar, though I was sure I saw that same light pole three times already. I managed to make my way into a quiet suburb near what I thought my hostel was. A couple wrong turns through what I thought would be a “shortcut” landed me… somewhere.

Soon a thick fog started rolling in. The air chilled rapidly, making me shiver. Quite unusual; I don’t recall Kyoto being this foggy in the spring. Eventually, I couldn’t see more than three arms' lengths in front of me.

Which way was forward? I checked my phone again, but my screen went black.

This is bad.

I stumbled into an eerily dark and quiet neighborhood. All the houses around me had their lights off. The streetlights seem to be out. The only light that lets me wander around tonight is the dim moonlight filtering through, staving off the pitch blackness. There wasn’t a single soul around for me to ask for help.

I kept wandering for what felt like hours. I eventually came to a bridge that crosses a river. It was there that the fog seemed to part a little, sinking lower in the riverbank. I could see a little further out, and I can just make out the other side. I saw a light on the other side of the river. A flickering orange glow cuts through the fog. Finally, a sign of life! Someone who could help me find my way back.

I headed towards the light. As I got closer, I started to smell… Barbeque?

A strong grilled smell soon wafts the air in front of me. Food…

The cold mist parted around lone, wooden, food stall sitting on the other end of the embankment. The only source of light in the darkness emanates from it.

I ran to towards the stall like I found an oasis in the desert.

The stall was tiny; it had only one stool out, the counter set up for what seemed like one customer at a time. Behind the counter, a young woman, looking like around my age, tends to the grill in her makeshift open kitchen. She wore a kimono and a red bandana covering her hair that’s tied in a bun.

It was like she is the only living soul in the world right now.

“Ah, you’re here,” her voice soothing and homely. “Have a seat. It’s almost ready.”

She looked up at me with a welcoming grin. Her amber eyes gave me a look of familiarity, even though I’ve never seen her before. It was like she was expecting me.

“Excuse me,” my voice was hoarse, “I need some help with directions…“

She doesn't respond, only gesturing for me to join her at the counter.

Awkwardly, I pulled the stool out and sat, the legs making a scraping noise that loudly echoes into the void.

She removed a rice ball on the little charcoal grill in front of her, now golden brown on all sides. She finished it up by wrapping a piece of seaweed around it and served on a tiny plate, along with a cup of hot tea.

I looked back at her with a confused look. “But I’m not hungry.”

“You sure?”

My stomach replied for me with a growl. She laughed in response. I blushed a little in embarrassment.

To hell with it. I picked up the rice ball and scarfed it down.

“That was delicious.”

“Thank you very much.” She bowed sincerely.

“I guess I could eat. What do you have on the menu?”

“I don’t have a menu. I simply have what you need.”

She ladled broth with some pieces of vegetables, fishcake, and slices of beef into a bowl.

“What’s this?" I asked.

“Oden. It will warm your stomach and open your heart.” She slid the dish in front of me.

As I took bites of the daikon, I felt a warmth radiating inside my body. It was like eating homemade cooking from grandma. I couldn't believe a dish so simple made me feel so emotional.

“This is amazing! I have to tell all of my followers about this place.”

I excitedly pulled out my phone to take a picture. Oh wait. It’s dead.

“Would you happen to have a charger on you?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“A charger for your phone? Or a battery bank? Any electricity?”

“I don’t have any of those newfangled things.”

“You don’t have a smartphone? Or social media?”

“You could say I’m old-fashioned.”

“Why not? You could advertise your stall and get lots of customers!”

“There’s no shortage of lost souls finding their way to me already.”

I looked around, but there’s no one around except us. She responded to my confusion. “I don’t think I could properly serve anyone if I was famous.”

Point taken, I guess.

She continues on. “Do you really need to share every moment of your life?”

“But I have to share," I respond emphatically, "If I don’t share, no one will know the cool things I’ve done or seen. It’s like I was never here.”

“And why’s that?”

I opened up about everything: How I came to Kyoto in the spring not just for vacation, but also to make content and make it big as an influencer. And the bigger you are on Instagram, the better life gets. 

But the more I talked about it, the more I doubted it. Would my life really get better? 

I shrunk in my chair a little. Perhaps the oden really did open my heart.

I sigh, bemoaning my original predicament. "I just wish I was here in time for the Sakura."

"For yourself? Or for this 'Instagram'?"

I gave her question some thought. Have I ever travelled anywhere for myself, and not to boost my followers?

I took a sip of my tea in contemplation.

She continued on. "Many travelers come to Kyoto seeking beauty, joy, enlightenment... but often don't see it right in front of them. " She turns to look directly at me, her eyes piercing directly into my thoughts. “You’re looking for something you can call your own. But to do that, sometimes we need to keep precious moments close to our chests. True beauty is best seen with your own eyes and your eyes only.”

I let her words of wisdom sink in. She spoke like someone wise beyond her years, always knowing what to say to give you food for thought.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of remind me of my grandma.”

She giggles. “None taken. I’m an old soul after all.”

I look up and notice the sky is brightening. Is it morning already? I shielded my eyes from a ray of sunlight suddenly hitting my face.

She gazes at the sky with a smile. “Would you like some more tea?”

I took it as my cue to leave. “No thanks, I think I should start head back. Thank you so much for your hospitality, miss…”

“Aikawa Risako.”

“Aikawa-san, thank you for the meal. What do I owe you?”

“A favor, actually. There’s something I need you to do that I can’t do myself.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a tree I’d like you to water. It’s by that hill over there.” She points to an elevated old structure in the distance.

“That’s it? Are you sure?” I open my wallet in confirmation.

She responds with raising her hand in refusal. “I insist. Can you make sure it's taken care of?”

I found it odd that she would turn down money, but my thinning wallet wouldn’t say no to a free meal. I agreed to her simple task, thank her again and took my leave.

Risako bows and waves to me goodbye as I head down the deserted road.

As the sun continued to peek over the horizon, the fog thins out and disappeared. Suddenly, the streets of Kyoto came back to life. Businessmen roamed the streets on their commute to work. Cars zoomed by on the main avenue ahead. Students in uniform passed through, passing rumors and giggling as they make their way to school. It’s like someone flipped a switch and turned the city back on.

I looked back at the bridge again, only to find Risako and her stall has disappeared. It’s like they were never there to begin with.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. It has magically turned itself on again. So it wasn’t dead after all? I checked the GPS and sighed in relief when I realized I wasn’t too far away from my hostel.

Still, I looked back to the hill in the distance. Even though I was exhausted, I felt compelled to complete the task given to me. 

Maybe it'll make good content for social media.

I made my way to the base of the hill. Under a canopy of trees, I was greeted with a long hike of mossy concrete stairs. I took a photo of my challenge, and groaned as I huffed my way to the top. What I found at the top, sat faded vermillion torii gate. I read the sign that delicately hung on top.

"Aikawa Shrine."

I headed into the abandoned place of worship towards a small, dilapidated wooden temple, taking a couple pictures along the way.

I filmed myself peaking inside the temple through the crack of the crooked wooden sliding doors. There wasn't anything really left of the structure. Inside, the walls were cracked, smelled musty, and debris scattered everywhere. Seemed like nobody had been here for decades.

I made my way to the side of the temple, I found a large watering can next to a rusty spigot. I turned the knob with some force, and luckily clean water came out. I filled the watering can and hauled it to the back of the building.

What I found hiding in the backyard was a giant Sakura tree as its centerpiece: A full one still blooming with petals filling every branch. The pink color was very much brilliant compared to all the other green leafed trees surrounding it. 

It was a perfect, photogenic Sakura tree. Perhaps the only  and most beautiful Sakura tree still in bloom in all of Kyoto.

This could be my viral hit. I immediately took out my phone aimed my camera at the tree. But as I was about to take a picture, my thumb froze over the shutter button.

I stopped trying to frame the perfect picture. My eyes instead look past the phone and gaze at the tree. It was then did I really take in the beauty of it all.

I lowered my phone, and just… watched. No screen, no filters.

A few petals started falling. I watched them glide down at five centimeters a second. One of them landed on a little shrine with an old, dusty altar. I picked up a picture frame that was face-down on the ground and wipe the dirt with my sleeve. I was stunned with who I saw.

It’s a black and white photo of a much older-looking Risako: Her hair turned silver, and fine wrinkles on her face indicated a life well-lived.

An old soul she was indeed.

I dusted off the altar and stood Risako’s picture back in the center. I bowed and paid my respects.

I brought the watering can to the tree and distributed water around the base, completing her wish.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew through the tree. Thousands of white petals were dislodged and began to float away, filling the air with a delicate, swirling blizzard. I gaze in awe as the petals dance around me to its final destination on the ground.

And then, the moment of beauty was over. The ground beneath the tree quickly became a soft carpet of white.

I could feel tears well in my eyes. 

No words could truly describe what I witnessed and felt in person. There would be no picture to share. No evidence of what I saw. No sharing of my location. No post, no views, no engagement, no chance of going viral.

For the first time, I was okay with that.

This moment was just for me.