In the end, nothing really happened during the shrine visit. They went to Meiji Shrine together. Atago made good on her promise to help her dress up, and the kimono loaned to her was definitely fancier than her regular wear. They drew omikuji. Hers was daikichi. She stared at it longer than she would've liked.
Business will be prosperous. Reassuring.
Consider finding someone, lest she be caught off guard...?
No comment.
Cut back on travel?
No, she didn't do much of it to begin with.
Atago and Jerry both got kyo, and though the former was flippant about it—as if it was just as inconvenient as misplacing her favorite lipstick—and the latter never believed much in luck, they tied the strings of their misfortunes to the trees nearby anyway.
Zuikaku was happy enough with her kichi, but whatever was written on her strip was enough to leave her frowning and red. Her sister didn't tell anyone what she got, and her smile was difficult to read. But maybe it wasn't really a misfortune, and she had always been content with what she had anyway. Takao, ever the serious one, didn't seem to pay her omikuji any attention after she tied it up, muttering something about working harder this year.
The so-called luck had been a major part of her service. Her ship had been struck with such force more than once, convincing the Japanese that they had sunk her every time. But the ship returned from the brink, time and time again, to show them that they were wrong. Like a ghost to them, a phantom of the sea.
Now, she was lucky just to be here.
***
On the second Sunday, a visitor she didn't expect to see showed up.
When the door opened, she thought it was just another customer. But once the person stepped inside, displaying a gait poised and sure and a youthful look that belied all the things she'd seen and experienced, she knew otherwise. Even Grim seemed to bow at her presence.
"Mikasa-san...?"
The former flagship of the Combined Fleet looked around, taking in the surroundings with an approving nod, and then smiled at her.
"Your place is as warm as you, Enterprise."
"Please...take a seat..."
"Ah, but you are not open yet, are you?"
"No, but um, stay if you like..."
"Don't be so tense, young lady. I'm not going to bite," Mikasa said as she settled down on a seat near the counter. She took out a small box, which she slid toward her.
She heard from Atago that Mikasa liked to give away Jintan like it was candy. It was not certain if Mikasa still believed the silvery pellets had health benefits instead of simply freshening one's breath like everyone else today, but she knew better than to refuse.
"Thank you. So, um, would you like anything to drink?"
"No, no, it's alright, but maybe..." She paused to look at the door. "Ah, she's a shy one, indeed. Let me get her in."
Mikasa went back outside and soon returned with a petite girl who looked almost too young to be allowed in an izakaya, except for the way she carried herself, which spoke of experience beyond her age. A KANSEN, no doubt, but not one she recognized.
"This is Ayanami, or Aya-chan as I call her. She was once part of my retinue as well, but I don't think you two met back then."
"Pleased to meet you, yes..." Ayanami said with a slight bow. Her voice was soft, but with an edge to it that made it clear she was not without spine. While her expression remained mostly neutral, she did seem curious about the place. "So, this is the izakaya...I've been hearing about...yes..."
"Yes, though it's closed for now. Still, would you like a drink? I can offer you something nonalcoholic."
"I appreciate it, but I won't impose on your time, Enterprise-san."
"Actually," Mikasa cut in, "I changed my mind. Tea would be nice. Nicer, if you would join us. And no, I won't judge the leaves."
"Coming right up."
She moved to the kitchen area and boiled water in the kettle, wondering why they were here. From the looks of it, it was nothing urgent. If anything, they looked relaxed.
She chose the expensive gyokuro Jerry brought her as a gift some time ago. She wasn't really into tea, so she reserved it for the few guests she deemed worthy of such treatment. There was some senbei, too, if she remembered correctly. Mikasa was fond of it, last she heard.
"So, Enterprise," Mikasa began once the tea was served, "how are you doing? I heard from the others about how you've been running this place. Are you getting by?"
"Y-yeah. It's a lot of work, but I'm managing."
"It's quite impressive. Hard work and passion go a long way in anything you do. This is the result of those."
"Yeah. It's great."
She stole a glance at Ayanami. She was quiet, only looking at the pictures on the wall. She wondered what she thought about it all.
"Now, I won't waste any more of your time with small talk. We have business to discuss, and I apologize for coming on such short notice."
"No problem. What can I do for you, Mikasa-san?"
"This is a matter of great importance, and I trust you to handle it well. You see, I have a favor to ask of you."
That was...rare. If Mikasa had a request, it must be something big. Her expression hardened, her fingers steepled together.
"Tell me."
"Are you prepared to lose yourself in the intensity of a battle? Where honor and pride are at stake?"
No telling if Mikasa was joking or not, but she nodded nonetheless.
"I...yes. If need be."
"Good. I have a ticket for the Hatsu Basho at the Kuramae Kokugikan. For some reason, none of those girls would take it, even when I offered it to them for free. Maybe they didn't want to go with an old lady like me, but that's beside the point."
"The...sumo tournament?"
"Yes. The first sumo basho of the year. I don't think I need to tell you how special it is. And since I already have an extra ticket, I figure it would be a shame to let it go unused. I figured you could...ah, benefit from broadening your horizon."
Mikasa's smile was playful, and she knew there was something else behind the words.
"I...I don't really know anything about it..."
"That's why I'm here to educate you, young lady. Now, if you agree to accompany me, we can go now. I don't want to miss Taihō and the rest of the action."
Mikasa looked at her expectantly, her eyes gleaming like a cat's. Ayanami still had her eyes on the wall.
There were hours before she opened the izakaya for the day. And she, like it or not, had gotten accustomed to having her plans derailed by the vagaries of life. It wouldn't be so bad to spend time with someone who had helped her immensely.
"Sure. Just...give me a moment."
***
Kuramae was thankfully not far from Asakusa. She had expected the Kokugikan to be a grand building, befitting of the sport's hallowed stature, but what she found was a concrete, brutally utilitarian structure that looked more like a warehouse than anything, if not for the multitude of banners and flags at the entrance.
Food vendors were already in business, their chants mingling with the din of people going to watch the basho. There was a strange sense of anticipation in the air, one she felt in the pit of her stomach as she followed Mikasa through the gate.
"You've come here before?" she asked her escort.
Mikasa nodded. "A few times, yes. But it's the first time Aya-chan will come to the basho. And this time, I figured we could close the shop for a little while longer so that Hiei could finish that cookbook she'd been working on. Now, I don't expect you to come here for the full 15 days, but I hope you'll learn to appreciate this art form."
"I...I'm honored to be here."
"Don't be too nervous. They're just like you and me, though they might seem intimidating at first glance."
They entered the hall after showing their tickets, and the noise grew louder.
At the center of the hall was a construct Mikasa called the dohyō, where the bouts would take place. There were no seats, only zabuton arranged in a precise formation around the ring, leaving enough space between spectators.
The spectators were not limited to men. Women of all ages were in attendance, too. Perhaps it was not that surprising. She'd finally seen what Taihō looked like, because his photos were everywhere. He was a rather handsome young man, she had to admit, and his smile gave off a noble and refined air. And if Mikasa wasn't exaggerating in her explanation, he was the top rikishi of this era.
"He's not pure Japanese," Mikasa said, "but it's not important. He is the youngest yokozuna of our time. Getting to that rank always wins people over. And what's more, he embraced his mother's culture, and that, to these people, is admirable."
Mikasa had a knowing smile as she spoke. She wondered why she mentioned it.
As she learned later, they had missed the lower-ranked bouts, which started in the morning, where hopefuls battled to see themselves in the upper ranks one day.
"I have an admiration for the newcomers. They fight when few are looking and cheering, some still bruised from training. It's undignified, the life of a trainee. But those who persevere will see their labors rewarded one day. That goes for all of us, too."
"Ah, I see..."
Maybe she could learn something from this, too.
"Now, let's take our seats before we get caught in the crowd," Mikasa said.
She sat down beside her escort, with Ayanami settling down beside her.
And then it began.
It was almost ritualistic in its presentation. The gyōji, or referee, who looked like a man out of time in his classical attire, led the wrestlers into the ring, one by one, as another official announced their names, their places of origin, and their stables. As Mikasa explained, the wrestlers were of the jūryō rank, as indicated by the richly decorated aprons they wore.
She listened to Mikasa's explanations of the rules, but she didn't think she would understand everything right away. But she did learn it was a contest of endurance as much as strength, a battle of wills, but also a celebration of age-old traditions.
The bald yobidashi called the wrestlers in a song-like chant. Ayanami listened intently, and even Mikasa looked particularly pleased to hear it. And once the call was finished, the rikishi took their places, ready for action. The gyōji called the name of the wrestler on the east side first, then the other. They threw salt into the sand at their feet, then a staredown began. Everyone else seemed to hold their breath.
"Pay attention," Mikasa closed her fan in front of her mouth, her eyes glinting. "This is the tachi-ai. The deciding moment."
At the signal, the two contestants rushed forward. She tried to take a better look, but the crowd had already cheered. The wrestler on the west side had already fallen.
"That's...all?" she asked, carefully, so that she wouldn't sound too disappointed. That feeling, in itself, was already strange.
"It's all decided in an instant. Bouts rarely go for minutes. And that is the beauty of it. Assuming one of those shimpan didn't dispute the outcome, we'll move on to the next."
And so it continued. Bout after bout. Mikasa took the time to explain the kimarite—the techniques used by the wrestlers—and how the outcome was decided. The footwork, the timing, the balance, the strength, everything needed to be honed and used to the best effect.
She didn't expect to be interested, but she found herself caught in the momentum of the tournament.
Beside her, Ayanami, still quiet, was paying attention, too. Even when punctuated by pauses brought by all the thrusts, slaps, and throws, Mikasa's explanation didn't stop.
She herself couldn't really catch all of it amid all the sensory input and the noise of the crowd, but she did get a few things here and there.
She knew what it meant to fight with everything at stake and to have that chance taken from you. Demotion was a real possibility, and a poor showing would see someone dropping down a rank. Injuries were a common occurrence, and not just physical ones. It could be a fracture in the spirit as well.
But everyone gave their all, just as she had been doing.
The makuuchi bouts followed the jūryō. Mikasa passed along bento boxes to them. They were going to be there for a while longer.
Watch closely, she said, and you will understand why they were considered the best.
She had to agree that their posture alone, as they took their position, did show that they were a cut above the rest. Mikasa let out a hum of approval as they stood there.
But even they seemed to pale in comparison to Taihō. There was a quiet cheer as he performed his ritual. The stomp of his foot seemed to carry more weight than it should have.
The other one, whom Mikasa identified as Tochinoumi, had a more restrained presence and was more lightly built. He was only promoted to yokozuna recently, and she imagined he must have felt enormous pressure on his shoulders.
"Hm. It seems Kashiwado will indeed sit this one out. People have been talking about how he might have been injured. But I do wonder what Tochinoumi could do," Mikasa said as she ate. "And that Ōzeki, Sadanoyama, is a promising fellow."
"Dai-senpai...you know so much."
Ayanami, who had been mostly silent throughout the day, finally spoke up. Mikasa chuckled at that.
"This is not just burly men slapping and pushing each other, Aya-chan. There is honor here, and dignity. Even if you don't follow it closely, you can still appreciate that much."
"I...I see."
They immediately went quiet as the yobidashi called for Taihō and a wrestler called Tamanoshima. They were apparently from the same group of stables.
When they charged at each other, she, like many others, found herself rooting for Taihō. The flurry of commentary accompanied each push, thrust, and slap, but Tamanoshima managed to get hold of his opponent's mawashi before wrapping his calf around Taihō's and forcing him down. The gyōji pointed his fan east to signify a win.
But even if their favorite lost, nobody seemed to complain about it. They clapped and cheered for a job well done, and both wrestlers exchanged bows before stepping off the dohyō, all without much fuss.
Mikasa, too, wasn't too bothered about Taihō's loss. In fact, she looked pleased.
"Ah, a well-executed move."
Mikasa turned to her, smiling.
"You see, Enterprise, that Tamanoshima might be a yokozuna too one day. That was a splendid uchigake."
"U...what?"
"Uchigake. The commentator blurted it out several times, didn't you notice? That's one of the kimarite. Winning technique. There are many, but in the end, they are all the same. Use what suits you best. Life is no different, either."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. I look forward to your progress."
She wondered if she really looked forward to it or if Mikasa thought of her as someone who would need guidance.
Tochinoumi won his bout against Kitanofuji, whom Mikasa also praised as promising. The rest of the basho went by in a flash. She'd never forget the sight of the action, the quiet, dignified excitement of the audience.
***
As they exited the Kokugikan, Mikasa was still waxing poetic about the yorikiri and uwatenage and tsuridashi—the details went over her head despite her interest. Ayanami, who was quiet most of the time, seemed to pay close attention to it. Around them, the other fans were talking about the matches, too, some looking dejected, others looking proud.
Maybe she wouldn't mind another visit, if time allowed.
"Oh, look at the time," Mikasa said as they arrived at the gate, checking her pocket watch. "Now, my dear, do you have something to do? Maybe preparing to open the izakaya again?"
"Yes, but I still have time. Thank you for taking me here, Mikasa-san."
"Don't mention it. Now, since I think I've gotten you interested in sumo, what say we have some chanko-nabe? I know a place..."
"Ah? I...um, sure..."
"Come, then."
Mikasa gestured at them to follow her. She flagged a taxi to take them to Ryōgoku, which she described, with reverence, as the heartland of sumo. And once again, she found herself getting caught up in her escort's momentum.
She was a regular, it seemed, at one particular restaurant. It was run by a retired rikishi, who retained the build and bearing of his former self, and she imagined he must have been quite impressive in his time.
"This is the place. Now, let's get you girls some nabe to warm yourselves up."
Mikasa led them inside and got them a table. The restaurant wasn't that full, but there were people there. Mostly men in suits.
And as she waited, she heard them talking about the basho. A young woman approached them, bringing a hot pot. It was full of ingredients, mostly chicken and fish balls, and plenty of vegetables. There was also rice and beer.
"This is what those rikishi eat before training at their stables. Usually, the seniors eat first, but please, go on," Mikasa explained. "It's filling and nutritious. They would eat this, along with plenty of rice and naps to bulk up. But of course, we're not doing that."
Mikasa laughed at her own jest, while she and Ayanami exchanged a look, then let out a chuckle.
The dashi had a trace of nihonshu, giving it a certain depth and strength. The heat from the pot and the warmth in her stomach were...nice. Relaxing, even.
"Mikasa-san..."
"Yes?"
"I'm...thank you. For everything. You...you didn't have to go through all this trouble for me..."
"Think nothing of it, Enterprise. I do what I can to help. And I've had the honor of watching over many girls. But none of them have been as unique as you. And I do mean that as a compliment."
"I...I don't know what to say..."
"You don't have to say anything. Just be the best person you can be. Like those wrestlers back there, even if they fail, they continue to strive to improve themselves. And...find your kimarite, young lady, and win in life. You like winning, don't you?"
She managed a small nod. "I...yes..."
"Chin up and say it with pride."
"Yes!"
"Good. I do have one more favor to ask of you, Enterprise. Will you hear me out?"
"Y-yes, of course..."
"Good. You see, it's like this..."
***
"...So you watched sumo. Didn't know you're into that sort of thing."
She smiled as she slid Jerry his Coke. Nearby, Yamatani was coaching Ayanami on serving food. She had not quite managed the smile that would win patrons over, but she was, overall, a quick learner. The relaxed atmosphere made it easier.
Mikasa would be here for 15 days, or throughout the basho. She'd asked her to let Ayanami work in the izakaya for a while, ostensibly for experience. Given that Mikasa and Hiei also manage their own restaurant, she supposed that was reasonable.
She figured Yamatani could also use more days off. Or maybe one day she would quit her job. She was already a senior; she should be studying more, especially if she really wanted to make it to Tokyo U.
"It turned out to be...eye-opening, Jerry," she said.
"Oh. Even from big men throwing each other around?"
"Yes. But it's deeper than that...All of them have their own winning technique. And maybe Mikasa's right. I need to find mine. There's still a lot I need to learn."
"Hm. What do you think your winning technique is?"
"I...don't really know. But I'll find it one day."
Jerry chuckled at her answer. As always, he was affably accommodating.
"I suppose...you'll need some time. But hey, winning's your game, Skipper. You'll figure it out sooner or later. Maybe...I should check this sumo out. Sounds fun. Say, do you...uh...mind going with me sometime?"
She almost reached for the glass she had cleaned before, but stopped herself.
"If you want it...sure. I don't see why not. But...only when you have time."
"And when you have time, got it. Don't worry. This place ain't gonna run itself, I know."
"Thank you, Jerry."
"Don't mention it. Can I have some more of Saejima-san's karaage?"
"...Don't eat too much," she laughed softly. "Unless...you want to become a rikishi, too."
He paused just as he was about to take one last sip from the bottle, and slowly put it down.
"...Skipper, did you just joke?"
He looked a little too amused, and she wondered if she shouldn't have said that.
"It's...a joke."
He didn't laugh. But the grin remained.
"Well, that did floor me. You win this one, Skipper."
"You didn't laugh."
"Make another one and I will."
"I...don't think I can..."
"Well, then, Skipper, I'll wait until you can. Now...about those karaage? Or do I have to ask the chef myself?"
Sincerity like that was indeed his kimarite. Maybe he didn't even realize it.
And maybe she really had to start thinking about jokes.
But first, she had a request to fulfill.
"Coming right up."