Chapter 242: Do Not Let the Shaman Live (5)
"…I thought the same thing last time, but that is, well. Quite an uncommon vehicle."
"Ahaha……."
Those were the words Bansei Marin managed as she took in the semi-truck parked in front of the house. It was true enough that someone who didn't haul freight for a living rarely went out and bought a truck like this for private use. It wasn't even coupled to a trailer just now, and still the thing sat there looking thoroughly out of place.
It might have been a slightly unkind observation, but it was even less the sort of vehicle one pictured a woman driving. The couple-to-be both seemed entirely satisfied with it, though, so Bansei had nothing more to say on the subject. Hitomi, at least, possessed enough self-awareness to know her tastes ran a little peculiar, and she laughed, sheepish.
"Wait just a moment, dear. I'll go fetch Guroyuki-chan."
"Huh? Guroyuki-san is here?"
"Coming all the way to collect her would be a bother too, wouldn't it. I told her to stay the night."
With that, Bansei went back into the building. Hitomi watched her go, then turned her eyes to the driver's seat.
"Did you know, Shion?"
"Of course. I was contacted beforehand. It would have been troublesome if I hadn't known, and gone to Guroyuki-san's place first."
"…So those two really are like that, then?"
She leaned in against Seoyeon, a hand raised to her mouth, and whispered it. No one else was around to hear, but this seemed like the sort of talk that called for the posture.
"Hmm. They had business between them, I imagine. Staying over for a single night is entirely possible even among friends, is it not?"
"D… do you think so?"
"…In truth, I am not certain myself."
"……Right. I haven't had a friend either, not since I became an adult."
Hitomi's friendships had more or less collapsed after middle school, and Seoyeon was a case that came before any discussion of friendships could even begin. The only person either of them could have called a friend since coming of age was the other, and the two of them were shortly to be interred in that famous grave of a life. It was difficult, at this point, to claim that what they had shared was an ordinary friendship. The romantic feeling must have been there all along; they had simply never noticed it.
Which was to say that the proper distance between friends capable of looking after themselves was a piece of knowledge these two did not possess.
"Relationships are difficult, aren't they."
"They are indeed."
At last the two of them sighed in the same breath. Then, catching each other's reaction, they laughed softly.
"—Ninomae-chan."
They were still on that idle subject when Guroyuki came toward them from some way off, a travel bag rattling along the ground behind her and her free hand tipping her sunglasses up a fraction. Vacant eyes, like those of a dead fish, turned their way. At that distance it was impossible to tell whether the corners of her mouth so much as moved.
"Good morning, Guroyuki-san."
Hitomi was, of course, far too accustomed to her to take it as coldness. She had been watching the streams for years, and lately she had even taken to dropping by the café now and then. The feelings simply never reached the face; the fact that she had dressed up, in her own fashion, was doing the work of showing anticipation instead.
A white tank top tucked into ripped jeans, a bolero thrown over it so that at a glance the look almost passed for off-the-shoulder, and a baseball cap and sunglasses besides. It was an outfit one might see readily enough on any street, but the gap from how she appeared at the café was considerable. There, the default was a neat shirt with an apron tied over it, and even when they ran into each other away from the café — at the company, for instance — her fashion was usually just that same look with the apron removed.
"Hm? Is something the matter?"
Hitomi had been staring at the unfamiliar figure, and Bansei, coming up behind, asked. Before Hitomi could answer, Guroyuki drew her shoulders back.
"She looked without meaning to, I expect. It contrasts too sharply with Bansei-chan's dowdy clothes. I told you it would have been fine if you'd simply worn what I recommended."
"H-how am I supposed to wear a thing like that at my age?!"
Bansei cried out, aghast. Guroyuki left her to it and, with a short heave, set the suitcase up on the truck's rear seat.
"Clothes she can't wear? What on earth did you recommend, to get a reaction like that?"
Guroyuki sprang up into the cab as if hopping aboard, and held out her phone.
"This."
"…Pink lace would be too much even for me."
What was on the screen was better called a torso than a mannequin — a trunk, and nothing else. Hung upon it was an outfit of such blinding, frill-upon-frill excess that Hitomi's expression locked. Recommended a thing like that, anyone would recoil in horror and refuse.
"Anyway, um… is this really so unfashionable……."
"Wear green carelessly and that is what happens. …Bansei-chan. The luggage first."
Whatever she had just heard seemed to have landed as a small blow. Bansei fidgeted with her hem and murmured under her breath, looking oddly deflated, but Guroyuki simply held out a hand and required the bags. She took them, set them down at her feet, and only after catching Bansei herself by the hand and hauling her up did the truck's door shut.
"We will depart, then."
"Guroyuki-chan? Your seat belt."
"I know. …Ah. Bansei-chan. You've fastened the wrong one. That is mine."
"Ah. Ah, so I have. I'm sorry, dear."
At last the truck rumbled into gear and began, slowly, to move. The destination was, of course, the airport.
"Now that I think of it."
Silence had settled over the cab for a while before Hitomi was the first to set the conversation flowing again.
"Considering the time, I think lunch will have to wait until we're off the plane. Is there anything the two of you want to eat once we're in Korea?"
"Hmm, let me see……."
Bansei Marin turned the question over for a moment, then spoke.
"Cod stew, perhaps. Or that soup with the ox blood in it. I remember those being rather good."
"…Hmm?"
"Hm? Whatever is the matter?"
The answer was so far from anything she had expected that Hitomi could only stare, blank. Bansei, unable to tell what she had said wrong, looked puzzled herself.
"Bansei-chan. Unmistakably of an older generation."
"Wh-what?!"
"No. Girls usually answer with spicy stir-fried chicken, or rice cakes in chili sauce. Grant them every courtesy and the furthest they reach is some kind of meat."
"A-am I the strange one, then…?"
Unable to decide whether Guroyuki meant to tease her or was simply stating a fact, Bansei looked to Hitomi…
"Ahaha……."
Hitomi gave no answer at all, and looked away.
"W-well! Korean cooking has caught on in Japan in its own way these days, so one does come across quite a lot of it, you know? And if we're going all the way to the source, aiming for something a little more obscure isn't a bad idea, I'd say……."
She was making an excuse, having realized a beat too late that this was the most definitive answer of all — and the kindness of it only stung the worse.
"It's all right… truly. That I'm an ajumma is a fact in any case… and not keeping up with what the young ones like to eat simply can't be helped……."
Bansei let her head settle against the window with a soft thunk, and murmured it.
"But I ate those when I was a teenager… hmm……."
"So Bansei-chan's tastes were old even then."
"Guroyuki-san?! A-at least call it mature, or something along those lines……."
"There's no need to fuss over me. Deny it however you like; the truth is not a thing that changes……."
"No, I mean — what I'm trying to say is…?"
Hitomi waved both hands about, attempting comfort, but nothing suitable would come to her. Was it that she hated the trip taking on the air of a house in mourning before it had even begun? Or did she simply hate, in itself, the sight of someone wounded and sinking into gloom? Knowing Hitomi, Han Seoyeon guessed it was the latter.
"An outdated palate can't be helped. I can't deny Bansei-chan even on that point. But with effort, one can live young to any extent one likes."
"Guroyuki-chan…"
Guroyuki said it while patting her shoulder. She had teased her over her age, yes, but genuine dejection didn't seem to be what she had wanted either—
"First we begin by dressing young. So. Shall I order this?"
"No, that is too far even so, isn't it, Guroyuki-chan?! That isn't young, that's childish! The only people who can go out in front of others wearing a thing like this are preschoolers and cosplayers!"
"Shock therapy. To correct an outdated palate."
"That isn't a shock, that's a collision, isn't it…?"
A pink dress, burdened with an enormous ribbon and lace. It was plainly an outfit that not only a woman in her thirties, but one in her twenties — even a teenager — would have trouble wearing. Children these days were rather precocious, after all.
"Bansei-chan. Do not raise your voice in someone else's vehicle."
"That's because you— no. Even so, making a fuss is a problem. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm fine! Shion probably doesn't mind much either… right?"
"Yes. It is a rare trip. A little liveliness is rather the better thing, is it not?"
"…Thank you, all of you."
Bansei offered her thanks to the two in the front seats. Whether she truly meant it, or it was only a courtesy laid over the hurt, was impossible to say.
"One day I will get her into it. Without fail……."
"And why on earth are you so fixed on that……."
Hitomi broke into laughter now and then at the two of them going back and forth, and all the while the truck ran on down the road.
"Are we actually eating this? We come all the way to Korea, and the first thing we eat is soup boiled with lumps of blood in it? Seriously?"
"I told you it was quite good, didn't I? And we settled it by majority in the first place."
"Shion-san is a rubber stamp, so in practice Ninomae-chan cast two votes. A violation of equal suffrage."
"I hold that Hitomi is entitled to more votes than other people. Is that not, rather, the correct arrangement?"
"The moment the matter is Ninomae-chan, this person cannot be reasoned with. Furthermore, Bansei-chan openly stimulated that Ninomae-chan's appetite for blood."
"I'm sorry. But you described it so wonderfully that just hearing the explanation, I couldn't hold myself back……."
For the record, the first meal with which Guroyuki Sui marked the first visit to Korea of her life turned out, in the end, to be seonji haejangguk — hangover soup, simmered with curds of ox blood.