Chapter 501: 175. I am Suzuhiko.
The last week of September.
During this time, Tokyo rarely saw the sun. The rain, as fine as needle threads, continued without stop, and even the clothes worn seemed to carry a constant dampness.
This Sunday arrived as expected.
The sky remained densely overcast, and the rain could start again at any moment.
In the morning, Mrs. Kasahara was helping her youngest daughter with her studies, while Kasahara Fumi was on duty in Section Nine. In the afternoon, Mrs. Kasahara intended to take it easy, having entrusted her daughter with the tasks within the Divine Palace. She drove the Cullinan and once again snuck off to Asakusa Shrine.
The fine drizzle wetted the torii gate of the shrine, and there was not a soul in sight inside, making it appear particularly quiet and serene.
The sound of the Cullinan’s engine slightly disturbed the tranquility of the shrine.
The sky was a bit brighter at this time; this was a deceptive kind of clearing, a pretentious kind. The clouds had not dispersed, they had merely turned bright, becoming a platinum color. The Cullinan, bathed in the precious sunlight, appeared jubilant, like a newly unwrapped product.
On the corridor of the worship hall, Fujiwara Reya, dressed in a white hunting robe, sat cross-legged with a serene smile on his face.
Since returning from Hidden God Town, the two often met like this.
She practically clung to Fujiwara Reya, finding any reason to frequent Asakusa Shrine, neglecting her own Tokyo Grand Shrine. There wasn’t anything urgent; she just liked to chat with him like an ordinary townswoman, gossiping and exchanging anecdotes about people in Shintoism.
The Cullinan’s engine stopped, making the surroundings even quieter.
The car door opened, revealing the elegant appearance of Mrs. Kasahara. She wore intellectual-looking gold-rimmed glasses, a simply styled light blue dress, and draped a cardigan over her shoulders. She carried a black, glossy handbag and wore dark gray low-heeled shoes. After closing the car door, she shielded her forehead with her hand and jogged towards the corridor.
This hurried look reminded Fujiwara Reya of her running with a lantern on the mountain.
Passing through the wet bamboo fence appeared a wooden gate, and Mrs. Kasahara arrived in front of Fujiwara Reya. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, and her damp shoulder hair clung quietly to her cheeks. Amid the healthy flush spreading across her cheeks, she smiled sweetly, "I’m going to take a shower, you make me something to eat."
Saying that, she didn’t even glance at Fujiwara Reya and turned around, as if she were the mistress here, entering the house.
Treated with such familiarity, Fujiwara Reya felt like a well-trained hunting dog. It was as if he had been commanded by a demon, and he merrily walked into the kitchen to start cooking.
It was still early; it was now three in the afternoon.
Fujiwara Reya leisurely prepared an upscale kaiseki meal.
Cold dishes included pine-coned matsutake, stir-fried lily bulb sprouts, dried persimmon cakes, and crab cakes. The main dishes featured delicately portioned oxtail fish and kgawa raw fish, elegantly served on small dishes painted with Song Dynasty peony patterns. Seasoned delicacies paired with fragrant mushroom paste and cockle paste, along with gray-hued roasted tofu with wasabi, were cooked. The desserts were little white and pink dough dolls wrapped in sakura paper.
In the past, he dared not indulge so extravagantly in Tokyo.
The current freedom to spend was entirely because he had married a clever and capable first wife. Speaking of which... using the money earned by Mrs. Miki to buy ingredients to feed Mrs. Kasahara, did it count as emotional infidelity?
Hmm.
Mrs. Miki, with your generosity, please don’t take this to heart.
After finishing the meal, Fujiwara Reya brought everything to the corridor and then went to knock on Mrs. Kasahara’s room door. As a mother-in-law, having an independent room at a son-in-law’s house seemed quite reasonable.
"Come in," Mrs. Kasahara responded lazily.
Fujiwara Reya pushed the door open and entered the room.
This was a Western-style room, the size of eight tatami mats, every corner exuding a girlish aura.
The furniture in sight bore a soft pink wrinkled-like delicacy, with wallpaper, wall art, and dolls—all brimming with a uniquely feminine delicacy. Even the armchairs were piled with thick, multicolored embroidered cushions.
Honestly, such a girlish space might as well belong to Kasahara Asuka.
"Help me put this on," Mrs. Kasahara said, looking at herself in the mirror.
The vase on the dressing table was filled with yellow chrysanthemums, indicating the current season was autumn.
From the mirror, Fujiwara Reya saw her charming visage, looking around twenty-seven or eight. With full lips and shimmering eyes, she wore a kimono styled like Tang clothing. The fragrance of some incense wafting in added a rich aroma that filled the air.
"Why are you still standing there dazed?" Mrs. Kasahara urged.
Fujiwara Reya had no choice but to step behind her, picking up the fine gold necklace from the table.
Bending down, he held the two ends of the necklace with both hands, looping it around her neck.
Mrs. Kasahara humorously watched the youth in the mirror, and the woman being gently attended by the youth.
The woman in the mirror had a beautiful face typical of a Chinese beauty, with her full lips slightly perked, which gave off a hint of mischief. Fujiwara Reya was also looking at those lips, the inner part full and warm in feeling, providing a stark contrast to the dignified impression outside. Whether it was a lady’s style suit or a summer kimono with its gorgeous shoulder-baring patterns, everything seemed to fit her perfectly.
Also,
she never forgot to put on a corset before going out.
Except, in the choice of perfumes, she was capricious, with no particular favorite.