The Hiratas were invited to the sister’s wedding reception, and they had
also attended the mother’s funeral. And Chiba had been at the Hiratas’
wedding reception, although Takako, the bride, had not seen him.
Two or three days after the Hiratas returned from their honeymoon—it
was a Sunday—Chiba had called down from the second floor of his house,
“Hirata, Hirata.”
“Yes?”
Takako walked out into the hall. It was the first time she had heard the
name “Hirata” called like that, from a distance, and she’d taken it to refer to
herself. It was also the first time she saw her neighbor’s face—Chiba’s
face.
Chiba seemed somewhat taken aback to see her come out.
“Oh—I’m sorry to be shouting down at you like that. . . . I’ve had a
pheasant sent up from the country, and I thought I’d send it over as a
wedding present. I mean, if you’d like it... “
“Well—yes.”
Then Takako’s face became red and she went back inside, making a
gesture as if to say, wait a moment please! There was probably no need for
her to ask her husband, since Chiba had said he would give it to them, yet .
. .
Takako’s chest was pounding. Chiba’s voice was ringing inside her.
Hirata was delighted with the message she brought.
“Do you know how to prepare a pheasant?”
“No! Oh, no—I’d be afraid to. I couldn’t. And— what does he do?’
“Mr. Chiba? He’s an architect, works for a construction company. He
graduated from a private university, but I hear he’s got talent.”
