Part One: From the Scrolls of Haru-chan.

The town had one restaurant, Kuroshin-tei, run by a kindly family called Shiotsuki. One day I went there for lunch with my boyfriend, Akihiro, and his younger brother Kazu. I guess it must have been a holiday because the restaurant was closed. We thought of getting bento at the grocery store but it was closed, too. At a loss for what to do, Kazu suggested going to the diner on the outskirts of town. I’d never been there and Akihiro seemed doubtful that the place was still in operation, but we drove over there anyway, and sure enough, there was a light on inside and we could hear old popular standards playing out of the kitchen.
We went in and the old woman who ran the place damn near died of shock. I don’t think she’d had any customers in years, but she told us to sit down and she gave us some tea – probably from her own pot, because it certainly didn’t seem like she was expecting anyone for lunch. She left us to look over the menu, as the guys shot each other strange looks. The room was large and could’ve seated at least 50. I wondered if it had been popular at some point in the past, but it was hard to imagine very many people coming through the town, which to my knowledge had never had anything that could’ve been called a ‘heyday’. The only decorations in the place were a couple of beer advertisements that looked to be at least twenty years old.
When the woman came to take our order, I asked for katsudon, but they were out. They were out of almost everything. Kazu finally asked, “Well, what can you make?”
“Croquettes” – not what I was in the mood for, but we were pretty hungry, so we went ahead and ordered. The restaurant was silent except for the music and the sound of the woman shuffling around in the kitchen.
Akkun said to Kazu, “Are you sure the food is gonna be okay? I mean, mom would be pretty upset if we both got wiped out.”
Kazu laughed but seemed pretty confident. “If that lady was sitting in the kitchen all morning, they must have customers once in a while… I mean, if no one ever came, why would she waste her time sitting around?”
“Maybe she doesn’t get radio reception at her house.” We really were deep in the mountains. “Besides, the only people who come here are out-of-towners who don’t know any better.”
“Hey,” I said. “Watch it.” I was from out of town and I certainly knew better. The only reason I was there in the first place is that I was stupid enough to trust the two of them.
The food came out and it was good – not great, but passable. Kazuhisa dug right in but Akkun kind of sniffed at his before eating it. Under any other circumstances, this would’ve been a huge insult to the chef, but the old woman could hardly be called a chef, and as it was, she had already shuffled back to the kitchen. I hoped she couldn’t hear us over the radio.
“Hey, stop it. You’re being rude,” said Kazuhisa.
Akkun was still sniffing at his pork cutlet. “What? I just don’t wanna DIE, that’s all.” I was happily tucking away the croquettes, which were still cold in the middle, and cabbage salad smothered in what appeared to be plain mayonnaise.
Kazuhisa was almost finished with his bowl of noodles. He leaned over to Akkun and said, “Are you gonna eat that?” Akkun shook his head.
“Boy, you’re finnicky. No wonder you’re so skinny.”
“I’d be skinnier if I got poisoned.” Kazuhisa rolled his eyes and polished off the cutlet. The old lady came out to refill our tea cups. After she went back to the kitchen, Akkun wondered aloud when she might have last changed the leaves.
“Shh,” said Kazuhisa, “she’ll hear you.”
“She won’t hear me. I don’t think she can hear. She’s a ghost,” said Akkun, who, in addition to being a picky eater, was weirdly superstitious and scared of anywhere that people said was haunted. In the mountains, practically everywhere is haunted. Kazuhisa rolled his eyes again.
“Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed the check and we got up from the small table.
“Yeah,” Akkun said under his breath, “let’s get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Sissy,” said Kazuhisa; and to the old woman, “Thanks! It was great!”
She muttered something incomprehensible. I was pretty familiar with the local dialect but could not make out what she said, and I don’t think Kazuhisa or Akkun could either. We hightailed it out to the car. Closing the doors and buckling our seatbelts, we looked at each other but were afraid to talk. It was as if the weird whatever it was that hung in the air at the restaurant had followed us outside and into the car. Kazuhisa started the engine. Pulling away from the place, Akkun said, “Okay, we’re never going there again.”
“Why not?” Kazuhisa asked. He was kind of oblivious, a strange counterpoint to Akkun’s neuroses.
“Ghost bento. Never again.” That was all Akkun would say on the subject. He was paler then usual and his hand was cold in mine.
Kazu chuckled. “Ghost bento. Classic.” He turned to us and said, “Hey, did you guys hear the microwave beep? I think she was defrosting your croquettes!” Even Akkun had to laugh. I wondered how long those croquettes had been in the freezer and felt slightly sick.
maw is currently acting as our roving blogger in Japan. Gosh darn you, maw.-zaf