Chapter 1: Sunset 4. Uneasy Dinner

It was the weekend, and there were plenty of other diners, many of them out with the whole family. A waiter led them to a window seat the manager had already prepared. The two of them sat at the square table at an angle, forming a V that faced the window.

"You can't see anything anymore."

From afternoon until dusk, the window should have looked out over the sea, but at this hour all that lay beyond was blackness. Only the great pine by the glass still showed a faint silhouette.

"At least we show up in it."

The night window had turned into a dim mirror, reflecting the two of them at the table, even the diners behind them and the crystal chandelier, as if there were another restaurant outside the glass.

Kuki stared at the restaurant reflected in the window, checking to see whether there was anyone he knew among the people inside.

The waiter had escorted them from the entrance all the way to their seats, leaving no chance to look around. With his eyes lowered as he threaded between the tables and chairs, it would have been a lie to say he felt no guilt about traveling with a woman.

And yet now he no longer cared whether anyone saw the two of them together. He had already made up his mind, and if he still felt uneasy, it was probably because this was Kamakura.

If they were in a hotel in Tokyo, even if someone spotted them, they could brush it off as a business meeting or pretend they were nothing more than friends. But if they had dinner together in a Kamakura hotel, anyone who saw them would assume they were quite close. There was no helping that. Around Shonan, old friends and relatives were always around; there was no telling who they might run into.

It was rare for Kuki's stubbornness and timidity to clash so hard inside him, but in the end he persuaded himself of the same thing.

As long as he said he had come here on some errand and was just having a meal with a woman he knew, it would be fine.

Once he had settled on that, he turned his eyes back to Rinko. She was sitting straight-backed, gazing elegantly at the night window.

Her composed profile had the kind of steady calm that made it seem like it would not matter to anyone who saw them.

Before the meal, the sommelier came to ask what they would like to drink. Kuki ordered white wine first, and while they were eating the appetizer, the manager brought over a large platter of abalone caught nearby and showed it to them.

"Would you like it two ways, steamed and in cream sauce?"

It was fresh enough that eating it raw would have been good too, but they left it to the chef.

The window across from them continued to reflect the interior of the restaurant, and even the expressions on every face at the nearby tables were clearly visible.

"Do you think there might be anyone you know here?"

After taking a sip of wine, Kuki asked Rinko cautiously.

"So close to Yokohama..."

Rinko's family home was a long-established imported-furniture business in Yokohama, and she had also gone to university there. She ought to have quite a few acquaintances in this area.

But without even turning her head, Rinko answered flatly, "Not a single one."

From the moment they entered the hotel, Rinko had shown no sign of nerves, and that attitude had not changed.

"When the sun went down earlier, you looked a little lonely. Were you homesick?"

"You mean me?"

"You haven't been home for two days..."

Holding her glass, Rinko smiled. "I was worried about the cat."

"The cat?"

"It wasn't feeling well when I left. I wonder how it is now?"

Kuki knew that Rinko, who had no children, kept a cat, but hearing her say that the thought on seeing the darkening sky had been the cat left him somewhat taken aback.

But then an image flashed through Kuki's mind of the man feeding the cat. Was Rinko's husband alone at home with the cat while his wife was away?

To be honest, he was very curious about Rinko's husband and her home life, but when it came to actually asking, he felt strangely tangled up. He wanted to know, but at the same time he was afraid that knowing too much might make him uneasy.

Still, after hearing Rinko say that what she worried about while being away for two days was only the cat, his thoughts circled back to her husband and made him tense up again.

"What does the cat eat?"

"I left out cat food. I think it should be fine."

Then what did her husband eat? Kuki was curious, but asking that now would obviously be pointless. It was not a topic suited to this moment, when they were supposed to be enjoying dinner together.

The sommelier came to refill their glasses, and as if on cue the waiter brought over the finished abalone. The steak was seared just right, and the lightly grilled abalone came with a thin slice of roast meat.

Among French dishes, Kuki also liked the lighter kind that let the ingredients speak for themselves, and Rinko seemed to feel the same way.

"Let's eat."

After sex, Rinko seemed to have worked up an appetite, and she dug in happily. Fork and knife in her hands were always elegant without ever seeming contrived.

"This is so good!"

When Rinko ate, she became focused and innocent, and watching her, Kuki's mind drifted back to the scene in bed not long before.

It was hard to say out loud, but "so good" was also an accurate description of Rinko herself. That soft, taut sensation was the real delicacy of delicacies.

Rinko had no idea what the man was imagining as she concentrated on her abalone, and influenced by her, Kuki brought the steamed abalone to his own mouth.

By the time they finished dinner, it was a little after nine, and they had emptied a bottle of white wine and a bottle of red.

Rinko was not a heavy drinker, and a faint flush had risen from her cheeks to her chest. Was that the afterglow of sex making her more drunk? There was also a hint of fatigue at the corners of her eyes. Kuki was getting drunk faster than usual, but he did not want to go straight back to the room.

When they left the restaurant and peeked toward the bar deep in the lobby, the noise of voices mixing together made them give up and head back upstairs.

"Want to go outside for a bit?"

As soon as Rinko suggested it, Kuki opened the door leading outside. A garden lay just in front of the building, and ten meters ahead there was a stand of trees. Beyond them, the night sea rippled before their eyes.

"It smells like the sea."

A light breeze was blowing. Rinko lifted her chest and inhaled deeply, letting the wind brush her temples. Kuki matched her and took a deep breath too, feeling the sea draw closer around him.

"Enoshima was wrapped in light..."