Water Eggplant and a Kitchen Knife (3)

 

     Nagisa recognized a woman coming up through the street with a sunshade in one hand, and with a heavy shopping bag biting into the other.

     Either the too strong sunshine or the too white parasol darkly shaded the woman’s face, which looked too pale.  Her steps were too weak.

     Just because it’s summer.  It must be my imagination, Nagisa decided so.  As she sucked the wooden spatula, the thawed ice cream tasted of wood.

     Against Nagisa’s optimism, the next moment, the woman staggered and fell on her knees in the street.  Nagisa ran to her with the wooden spatula held in mouth.

     When Nagisa reached her, the woman faintly said, “Excuse me.”

     “For now, sit down here.”

     Nagisa helped the woman sit on the bench in front of the shop.  The woman’s nape had countless big beads of sweat.  Her white shirt was soaked with her sweat.  Her knees turned red, touching the hot asphalt.

     “.....  I’m so sorry.”

     “I will ask for a towel.  Wait here for a moment.”

     Nagisa called Koyoshi, who was in the back of the shop, and asked her to bring a wet towel.  Nagisa also bought a soft drink at a vending machine and handed it to the woman.

     The woman seemed relieved with the cool bottle, and put it on her nape.

     She had clear white hands, with fingers thin and blood vessels surfaced though.

     Koyoshi came out of the shop with a wet towel, and handed it to the woman.

     “Please wipe off your sweat with this.  The heat cuts all of us to our bones.  Take your time and take a rest here.”

     It had been over 35 degrees Celsius for days on end.  It continued to be scorching hot.  Many people suffered heat stroke.  Soft drinks were selling so quickly that their production couldn’t keep up with their demand, according to some news reports.  Anyone could collapse anywhere.

     A half of the bottle might have refreshed the woman, and she turned about to Nagisa.

     “Thank you for helping me.  My name is Sebumi.  What is your name?”

     She had a high clear beautiful voice.

     “My name is Nagisa Takaochi.”

     “Are you a student?”

     “No, I already work.  I’m a sharpener.”

     “Oh, well.  Do you mean you sharpen knives and such?”

     “Yes, I do.”

     “I’ve lived here for long, but you are the first sharpener I’ve ever met.”

     The production of knives is a traditional craft of Sakai, but even locals have little knowledge about it.  Nagisa gave an explanation as usual.  Then Sebumi made appropriate responses, giving nods and asking questions.  She was a good listener.  Nagisa couldn’t be bothered to speak to people usually, but she spinned an explanation easily and smoothly.

     “Oh, is that it?  I’m ashamed that I haven’t tried to know about it.”

     To Sebumi's words, Nagisa answered, “No, you shouldn’t.”  Not so many people listen to the stories on knives.  Those listeners are precious.  Knives are everyday tools.  As such, many people are just interested in using them.  They never think of sharpening them.  Some even use their knives out of force of habit, and worry about neither their sharpness nor usefulness.

     “Nagisa, you really know knives inside out.”

     Sebumi admired her.

     “Not really.  My job requires me of such knowledge.  That’s it.”

     “Oh, I remember!”

     Sebumi made a clap.

     “Actually, I have to consult you about a knife.”

     “What is it?”

     “Would you help me choose a knife?”