Kazuo was growing tired from the constant fear of being drawn into the war. Propaganda was beginning to slowly but surely appear on the streets and talk of soldiers leaving began to become eminent. Though this only happened in the workplace where concerns of the city drained into their country life. Their little village house stood untouched by this fear. Inside his simple home wafted the scent of that evening’s meal. That scent gave him a bit of comfort—it meant his little wife would be inside and his little wife would make these fears disappear.

“I’m home!” He announced as he came into the doorway and removed his shoes. Shuffling through the house, he found Miwaku and offered her a small smile before gently saying her name to himself as if the word was a comfort in itself. “Miwaku, how was your day?”

The common sound of cicadas was a very soothing noise to Miwaku. A little break from cooking gave her a chance to listen to the insects and the calmness involved. Moments like these made her forget about the troubles in the world. A life of simplicity was all she wanted, nothing but a loving spouse and a place to call home.

The sound of her love sang through the house. "My day?" she asked. Pondering for a moment she said, "Oh you won't guess what happened. Out by the front door a bird was chirping. I think it wanted to come inside because when I opened the door to shoo it away, it flew right into the house! I ran around yelling at the bird like some crazy lady." She brought out two bowls of rice and set them down on the table, followed by some steamed broccoli, salmon, and then some miso soup.

"In the end I finally got it out. It made quite the mess too." Miwaku didn't live an exciting life but she didn't mind.

Watching Miwaku ponder among her thoughts brought a slight smile to the man's lips. "A bird..." he chuckled. Nothing like that happened in his workplace. It was such a simple event that would have stuck him as exciting. He could just imagine Miwaku wandering around, waving her hands at the fluttery creature.

"I think I would have liked to see that," Kazuo said as a grin grew on his face. "How long was the chase?"

As she brought that evening's dinner, the man removed his spectacles before seating himself. His wife's meal blurred slightly, however, he found himself much more comfortable this way. While he sat there, it was his actual youth that came out once the object of his severe appearance was removed. "Thanks for the food!" He said in his pleasant tone while feeling for his chopsticks.

"Oh, that bird had me chasing it for an hour. After though, I thought of ways that I could have caught it more easily. I thought of buying a fishing net so I could throw on it, but then I worried that I would cause more damage or even worse I would tangle myself up in it. Then I thought of using a large bug catcher, but I wouldn't be able to catch it with that. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes, I would end up breaking things swinging it around." Miwaku let out a small sigh. "Maybe I could just hire some children to chase it out. I'm just not made for so much physical labor."

She gave him a happy smile when he thanked her for the food. Taking her place across the table from Kazuo, she noticed that there were no chopsticks present. Letting out a quiet, worried scream she hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed two pairs of them. She placed them in front of her husband saying, "I must have forgotten them." Then sitting back down she looked up at her Kazuo and asked, "Now, how was your day?"

"Ah, I say if it gets in let it stay if it's not going to harm anything. It should fly out when it's ready, right?"

She had let out a tiny scream. Instantly, Kazuo had realized what had happened. An embarrassed flush painted his cheeks while he slipped his spectacles back over his nose. He hadn't realized that chopsticks were on the table at all--instinctively, he had gone for them and being as blind as he was, he had just thought he was missing them. "It's fine, Miwaku." He laughed, finally feeling them in his fingers. "You shouldn't worry about something so small!"

"My day was..." He struggled for a word that wasn't fantastic, but not something to worry his wife too much either. "...good." Flashing a somber smile, the spectacles were removed once more and placed within a finger's reach. "A coworker is off visiting family," Kazuo said slowly, "he left me to tend to a few of his things while he was away. He has a very old book that he is entrusting to me while he is gone."

Eating a small bit of rice, he smiled. "Delicious."

He took another moment to take a few more bites before speaking more on the subject. "Now...it's really quite interesting. I only could thumb through a few pages. The story is the same one my mother had told me as a child. I thought it was strange how my coworker had come across such a book." Now Kazuo didn't believe in legends. He wasn't much of a spiritual man either unless it was a special occasion. However, he did enjoy learning. And Kazuo liked books. To find such a book about something so close to him was something so rare and interesting, the event alone was enough to suck him in.

Miwaku giggled at Kazuo for making the little ordeal into a joke. She had overreacted and just realized it. It's not like she hasn't done it before and this occasion was actually quite funny. Other times she got a little feisty with him when she really thought it was a big problem. Like when she had got caught in a freak rainstorm and came into the house soaking wet, he said basically the same thing. She, of course, had a fit and forced him to sleep at a friends house.

She smiled when she heard he had a good day. Which meant he didn't have a bird flying around his work or anything like that. When he mentioned his coworker leaving him a book she said, "Oh, it must be very important to him." Then nodded and made an, "Mmhmm," noise when he complimented her cooking. It may not always be a grand meal with a variety of food, but when he liked something with little variety she appreciated it. Now she had started eating some rice, then grabbed some broccoli.

Listening, it was strange how Kazuo seemed to cherish the story. He had never told her of any story from his mother. Probably because it might have made him seem like a child. So, she really didn't pay much mind to it, "Well maybe you can read it to me some time. You've always been a natural story teller, and the only stories I hear are about the war-" Miwaku caught herself and paused for a moment. "The war tales about ancient samurai that Mr. Yushimura is always telling. You remember Mr. Yushimura, he always is telling those tales to people who pass by him." She knew Kazuo didn't want to talk about it, but with people leaving for the army nearly every day that's all she ever hears about. Normally she would be able to maneuver around, but she had gotten into a conversation about it today.

She grabbed another piece of broccoli and put it into her mouth to not cause suspicion that she's thinking about it. It might have been too late though.

At the mention of the war, Kazuo's face blanched. He had lied to his wife many times about the amount of men who were leaving town to go elsewhere. It was a miracle she had yet to pick up on it. That very coworker he had just mentioned had recently received notice of his usefulness in the army. It wouldn't be too soon until Kazuo would be put out into the front as well. All the men were disappearing. Slowly but surely.

As Miwaku corrected herself, her husband pretended that her statement was actually a continuation of the other. She was mature enough to understand that he would be leaving her if things got too dangerous, however, Kazuo wanted to protect her from these thoughts as much as he could. Living so close to the coast, it was expected that these things were still hard.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Yoshimura and his tales." For a moment, Kazuo struggled with his thoughts and what to say while chewing a piece of broccoli. An awkward silence fell over the two of them while he ate.

"Actually," he said, looking downward. "These might tie in with his stories. It's a local tale. I really may read it to you this evening if you don't mind."

Miwaku looked up as the silence was broken, luckily he didn't catch her misstep. "A local tale? I've never heard of any stories from here, at least not that would be around the time time of samurais. I'd love to hear it." She stood up and gathered up the now empty plates and bowl of food. Bringing them into the kitchen, she said to Kazuo, "Let me just clean up and I'll be right there."

Bringing the dishes to the sink, she plugged the drainage with the... drainage... plug and turned on the water. Placing the dishes in the sink now and walking away to let them sit. Heading back into the other room she sat down and waited for Kazuo to be ready.

It was not every day that they would be together and read a book. Miwaku couldn't even remember the last time they did, so this was truly special.

As Miwaku took care of the dishes from the meal, Kazuo stood up to retrieve the book from his briefcase. It was right on top--as he had left it. For once, he was eager to share.

Kazuo wasn't entirely the romantic type. He was quite aware of the fact that he loved and adored his wife but rarely did he show his affection. There were days when he would come home drunk and ready for an evening with her but those were far more different than days where he was sober. Reading this to Miwaku was going to be a special event.

As she sat down, he sat near to her and opened the crisp pages of the book. Its old binding crackled under the pressure of his hands so Kazuo had to treat it as an artifact. Any wrong move could destroy it.

"This story touches very lightly on the myths behind my family name and the connection with this town. The writing is a bit complex and out-dated so I might just explain parts to you if they seem hard to understand."

After Kazuo sat down, Miwaku inched closer to him and pressed slightly against him. Then, slipping her arm underneath his, she squeezed just a little so he would be able to turn the page, but also so she could be as close to him as possible. Her impulse was to peek over and read the book, but then she thought against it and just looked at it.

"Come on Story-teller Kazuo, let's hear this story of yours."

Miwaku really wanted these kinds of things to happen more often. Where she could just listen and be in the arms of the man she loves, like she'd dreamed of as a little girl. The man she wanted to hug though, was not that kind of man. Depending on how long the book is, maybe she would have the chance to do this for a few days.