Winta’s Perfect Pair – Chapter 6

I trail behind Daichi as he leads me through the back door and into the welcoming interior of Tori no Kazé, the mouthwatering aroma of simmering soba broth and grilled meat enveloping me in a warm embrace. Ahhhh, smells delicious. My stomach gives an eager rumble of appreciation.

“Have a seat anywhere you’d like,” Daichi calls over his shoulder as he moves behind the counter. “I’ll get you taken care of.”

I slip onto a stool lining the gleaming wooden counter and pull my mini-tablet from my pocket.  ‘I’m doing some recruitment from other businesses in the neighborhood. Call if you need me,’ I text to Gia.

Setting the mini-tablet on the counter next to me, I take in the warm, rustic decor of the restaurant. It’s got a modern vibe, but it’s also totally timeless. The occasional pop of traditional calligraphy art accents the sleek lines and natural wood tones.

As Daichi gets to work on my meal, we fall into a comfortable silence. I glance at the practiced efficiency of his movements and the deft surety of his hands as he gathers ingredients and utensils. There’s an almost meditative grace to the way he works, like he’s performing a well-rehearsed dance. It’s… mesmerizing.

Sigh. Get a grip, Winta.

Now is not the time to be ogling the cute noodle chef.

But he’s adorable… and kinda famous.

Yeah, no. He is way out of my league. And I have far too much baggage to consider dating again.

I wrestle my wandering thoughts back into focus. This needs to be a working visit, not an excuse to indulge some silly schoolgirl crush. Itsuko led me here so I might as well try to win an ally for the Book Club’s fight against PairTech’s disruption, not daydream about… about…

I have absolutely no idea what I’m daydreaming about, which is just pathetic.

Scowling, I tear my gaze away from the hypnotic rhythm of Daichi’s hands and focus instead on the decorative wall hangings around the restaurant. Most of them appear to be traditional Japanese calligraphy pieces, each one a blend of bold brushstrokes and elegant minimalism.

“Those are beautiful,” I say, more to break the weighted silence than anything. “The calligraphy, I mean. Did you do all of those yourself?”

Daichi glances up at me. “I’m afraid my talents don’t extend quite that far into the artistic realm. Those were all done by an old friend of mine, Toshiki. He has an eye for such things.”

He nods toward one striking piece, all sharp crimson angles and ferocious brushwork. “That one is his interpretation of an ancient poem about the enduring bond between a samurai and his steed. He’s got an incredible knack for bringing those special moments between humans and animals to life.”

Something in his tone sets my pulse afire. I swallow hard against the fluttering in my chest, trying to keep my expression neutral. We both pause, tilt our heads, and stare at it.

“It’s stunning. It must be nice having such a talented friend who can provide those for your restaurant.”

“It is,” Daichi agrees with a small smile. “We’ve been close ever since we were kids. He’s always understood the… the deeper significance of what I’m trying to cultivate here at Tori no Kazé.”

He turns to stir the simmering broth. “These days, it feels like we’re all getting swept up in the nonstop rush of tech and innovation, you know? We’re losing touch with the simple but deep wisdom about making genuine connections — not just with each other, but with nature and the world.”

My skin prickles and my stomach rumbles. Wasn’t I just saying the same thing back at the Book Club?

Itsuko lets out a pointed yip from her perch near the kitchen entrance, shattering the weighted tension. Daichi turns back to his work with a rueful chuckle.

“Ah, sorry, Itsuko. Breakfast is coming. And I’m getting ahead of myself here.” He nods at me. “Let me get that soba prepared for you before I wax philosophical about the world’s greater mysteries…”

As he bows over the steaming pot, I can’t shake the odd sense we were just sharing some sort of cosmic moment of alignment there. Two kindred spirits, united by a shared passion to safeguard the treasures that others seem eager to discard.

Or maybe I’m just projecting my hopes onto a friendly noodle shop owner who was simply trying to make pleasant small talk with his latest customer.

I wring my hands under the counter, trying to soothe my anxiety over this strange situation I’ve found myself in.

“Here you go,” Daichi says, passing a steaming bowl across the counter to me.

“This looks wonderful.” I lean back and give a quick thanks before grabbing some chopsticks and diving in.

Of course, this tastes even better. A rich, savory broth perfectly balanced with bright notes of ginger and scallion, the noodles themselves cooked to an ideal chewy-yet-tender texture.

“Oh my god, this is incredible,” I gush after a big mouthful. “It’s true what everyone says. You’re an absolute genius with noodles.”

He chuckles and lowers his eyes to the counter.

“Is that what everyone says?” His tone is playful, so I smile and play along.

“Yeah, you hadn’t noticed?”

“I have.” He sighs. “I’m glad you like it. Though I can’t take too much credit — the recipe has been passed down through generations. My great-great-grandfather had a soba noodle place back in Ku 6 in Nishikyō.”

I finish a slurp, chew, and swallow. Mmmm. “Wait, really? This soba is a generations-old family recipe? From Earth?”

Daichi nods, wiping down the prep area. “Yep. The broth, too. That same great-great-grandfather created this dashi broth and soy blend back when he was a young chef.”

“That’s fascinating. I love it…” I stare down at the simple yet transcendent dish with newfound joy. Even my belly is happy. “It’s incredible — to have such an authentic connection to your culinary heritage.”

“It’s a source of pride for me, that’s for sure,” Daichi agrees with a fond smile. “But I can’t take any credit for the original genius, of course. My family’s talents have been considerably more… humble through the generations since. No innovating, really. Just the same, generation after generation. Though I’ll admit, I didn’t initially set out to follow the family tradition into the culinary world.”

That piques my curiosity. I lean forward across the counter, chopsticks clutched eagerly. “Oh? Do tell. What was the great Daichi Kaga’s original career path?”

He shoots me a wry look, clearly recognizing the teasing lilt in my voice. But there’s also a hint of genuine surprise in his eyes, like my interest in his personal backstory is unexpected.

“You’d really like to know?” At my nod, he leans back against the counter. “Well, believe it or not… I originally pursued a career path at the Interstellar Agency when I was younger.”

“Really?” My eyebrows shoot up. “You? At the Agency? I never would have guessed. I have two sisters at the I.A., but space exploration was never my thing.”

Daichi shrugs. “It’s true. I spent several years in their training program, preparing for a life of deep space travel and exploration. Had grand dreams of charting new frontiers among the stars.”

I smile at the mental image — this warm, unassuming noodle chef decked out in an I.A. uniform, braving the depths of the galaxy. Daichi catches the look and rolls his eyes.

“Yes, yes, I know.” He shakes his head. “But what can I say? I was never happy there and didn’t fit in. Then, when my grandfather passed away and left me the family soba recipe, instead of my asshole of a father, something just… clicked into place, you know? Like I’d finally found my true calling after years of drifting.”

There’s a contented sort of peace in his expression now. I lean forward again, captivated.

“So you decided to leave the Agency and open up this noodle shop instead? Or was this his place?” I prompt, looking around again. The restaurant feels too new to be a hand-me-down. “That must have been a considerable risk to take on.”

“It was a giant risk, and yeah, this was his restaurant, though I updated it. The place has been a roaring success so far.” He shrugs, and I blink back astonishment at his small ego. “Honestly, I never could have imagined Tori no Kazé would take off the way it did. I was just hoping to keep my family’s culinary heritage alive in some minor way.” He shakes his head again. “But I’m certainly not complaining about how things turned out.”

This guy is interesting and not at all what I thought he would be like. He has an almost spiritual sort of contentment radiating from him, like he’s somehow tapped into a deeper sense of purpose and belonging. Lucky guy. I have no idea what that’s like. I’m still hopelessly, achingly alone on that front.

The thought must show on my face because Daichi’s expression turns quizzical. “Everything okay over there? I’m sorry I’ve been dominating the conversation.”

I try to rally a reassuring smile, but it feels brittle even to me. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… got a little lost in thought for a second there. Must be the food coma settling in.”

Wringing my hands beneath the counter, I wrestle with an impulsive urge to confide in this kind stranger. To bare the aching loneliness and self-doubt that’s been my constant, suffocating companion for years now.

What would be the point, though? Daichi is just being friendly, nothing more. He doesn’t need the baggage of some unlucky soul’s existential woes weighing him down.

But then our eyes meet again, and I’m struck by the empathy and understanding shining back at me. I’ve always kept my deeper feelings to myself, concentrating on being kind to others and passionate about my work. I literally never mention anything that’s not positive.

But I think I could tell this man anything — my deepest fears, my most vulnerable insecurities — and he would receive them without judgment or pity.

So I take a deep, steadying breath, and, here goes nothing, I open up.

“I’m just… It’s just… hard, you know?”

I roll my eyes at myself. Real eloquent, Winta.

I sigh. “Everyone else around me seems to find that sense of fulfillment and belonging while I’m still struggling.” The words tumble out in a raw, unguarded rush. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to find my pair my whole life. But for some reason, no matter how hard I try or how much I seek them out or how much I open myself up to it, it just doesn’t happen. And some days, I’m sure it’s all my fault. I must be… lacking something.” I sigh again. “And the whole town knows everything about each of my failed past relationships with men, so none of them are surprised by this as well.”

Daichi doesn’t speak, doesn’t react beyond a slight widening of his eyes. He holds my gaze, letting the weighted admission hang in the air between us.

My cheek twitches. “Shit. Sorry. That was a lot from an almost complete stranger you just met, like a day ago.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying that burden,” he murmurs, empathy in his tone and gaze. “But I’m sure there is nothing lacking in you whatsoever. Your pair is out there.” He glances over at Itsuko. “Sometimes, the most extraordinary bonds take a little extra time and patience to manifest, that’s all. The universe has a plan, and you just have to stay open and have faith that it will happen at exactly the right moment.”

I’ve heard this before, countless times from family and friends. Hell, Suri said the same thing the other day. But hearing it from him is different somehow. A fragile sort of hope blooms in my chest at his words. I manage a watery smile and a tiny nod.

Daichi glances at me, clearly concerned by my sudden vulnerability. I can almost see the question forming behind his gaze — just what the heck did I do to bring this sad girl to my restaurant?

Winta, you fool. What are you doing?

Change the subject.

“Anyway, you know, I work at the Great Menagerie Book Club.” He nods. “There’s this new company, PairTech, opening a branch here in Yamato,” I begin, keeping my tone as even as possible despite my overreaction. “They use genetic testing and computer algorithms to calculate the ideal human-animal pairings. It’s supposed to be much more reliable and efficient than our… well, our old-fashioned mentorship model. And I’m afraid of what their presence in town will mean to our business.”

Understanding dawns in Daichi’s eyes as I briefly outline the clash between our approaches. The Book Club’s intimacy versus PairTech’s cold empiricism and data analytics.

“Ah, I see…” He murmurs, rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks. “And PairTech’s technological advancements could make your methods obsolete in the eyes of the public?”

I nod. “That’s what Maho, the owner, is afraid of, at least. She’s giving me one month to try rallying community support and boosting membership numbers. Otherwise…” I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. “Otherwise, she’ll be forced to sell to PairTech and let their computer models take over.”

Silence falls between us, heavy and weighted. Daichi’s expression is inscrutable for a long moment before something like dismay flickers across his features.

“I… I had no idea the situation was so dire. To think, the Book Club could be facing dissolution after all this time…”

He trails off, gaze drifting over to where Itsuko is dozing contentedly nearby.

“I found Itsuko through the Book Club myself, four years ago,” he confesses, almost absently. “One of your mentors, Suzuki, was the one who first sensed our connection and introduced us. If not for his sensitivity and the club’s methods…”

Daichi doesn’t need to finish the thought. The unexpected sense of loss shadowing his words hits me in the chest.

“Oh, I… I didn’t know,” I breathe, feeling wretched for having been the bearer of this news. This has not set the tone I wanted for our conversation. “I’m so sorry.”

But Daichi waves off my apology, lips set in a firm line of resolution. “It’s not your fault. This is a fight worth having, Winta. The Book Club’s person-centered approach to forging those sacred bonds should be preserved.”

He meets my gaze with an expression of solemn conviction. “You can count me among your helpers for this grassroots campaign of yours. I’ll help, however I can, to spread the word and remind this community why your methods are so invaluable.”

Oh! Oh, good! I haven’t ruined things. “You… you’ll help?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Whatever you need, I’m in. We can’t allow the Great Menagerie Book Club to close.”

Excellent. A win for Winta!

“Let me tell you about what I had in mind…” As I outline the ideas I’ve come up with so far, he listens intently, already interjecting suggestions of his own — appealing to the local restaurant association he’s a part of for support, perhaps proposing a community-wide promotional push.

“The… restaurant association? I hadn’t even considered that as a potential ally.”

Daichi chuckles. “Well, what are friends for if not to provide new perspectives? I’d be happy to get you on the agenda for this evening’s meeting, vouch for the Book Club’s importance myself.”

Wow. What had felt like such an impossibly daunting task is taking on a new air of potential.

“Thank you, Daichi.” I dip my head and then hold his gaze. “Truly, thank you. I… I don’t know what else to say except that I’m glad I followed Itsuko out of the club this morning.”

“She always knows what to do. Then it’s settled. Let’s show this city why a cold computer can never replicate the deeper wisdoms of the human heart, shall we?”

The conviction in his words lifts me up.

With an ally like Daichi Kaga on my side, perhaps the prospect of saving the Book Club from obsolescence isn’t so impossible after all.