Chapter 1 part 3

A long time ago, I heard someone say that Kyoto’s springs and autumns were “special.” When I told that to my late grandfather, he patted my head and said, “It’s not just spring and autumn. In Kyoto, all four seasons have their charms, and each season has its own scenic places.”

“What’s the best place to see cherry blossoms, then?” I asked, and his answer was, “Hmm, there’re quite a few, but the top one’s gotta be Ninna Temple.”

Ever since then, I had it in my mind that the best place for cherry blossoms in Kyoto was Ninna Temple…but I’d never gone there.

“Is that so? You still haven’t been to Ninna Temple, Aoi?” Holmes asked, and I nodded a “Yes” while peeking at the logo visible through the windshield of the Jaguar he was driving.

“Ninna Temple does come to mind when I think of cherry blossoms, but there are plenty of other noteworthy locations, like the Heian Shrine and the Hirano Shrine. The Philosopher’s Walk is a good one too.”

I vaguely nodded along to Holmes’s excited explanation, unable to stop focusing on the Jaguar logo. I mean, this isn’t the kind of car a student would ride in, right?

“Umm, Holmes, this is a really expensive car, right?”

“Ah, it’s the owner’s car.”

“Y-Your grandfather’s?”

“Yes, he likes Jaguars. Apparently, he was very impressed by the ideology of the company’s founder, Lyons: ‘Beauty sells.’”

“I-I see.”

“But he rarely gets the chance to drive it, so it’s become Kura’s company car.”

“It’s an amazing company car.”

Holmes laughed in amusement at my strained expression.

After driving for around half an hour, we arrived at Ninna Temple. Since it was a Saturday during cherry blossom season, the parking lot was packed full, but because we were invited guests, we were directed to a separate area.

At the entrance to the grounds was the giant, imposing Nio Gate.

“It’s huge, like, really grand. I can feel its history.” My lousy vocabulary strikes again.

Holmes smiled in response, and said, “Indeed, the Ninna Temple has a long history. It was built in the Heian period and remained a top-class monzeki temple—meaning that its head priest was a member of the imperial family or an aristocrat—until the Kamakura period. Unfortunately, most of the temples on this mountain burned down during the Onin War. The Ninna Temple wasn’t rebuilt until the Edo period.

“The Nio Gate you see in front of us was built then, but the cylindrical columns, the interlocking wooden brackets above them, and the bargeboards are all in the traditional style of the Heian period.”

Holmes’s extensive knowledge flowed from his mouth like water, and all I could do was make vague sounds of admiration.

Upon passing through the Nio Gate, a spacious road came into view. Because of the season, the place was bustling with people. The next gate we passed through was a bright vermillion, and there was a row of cherry blossom trees immediately to the left.

Now this was a spectacle. What caught my attention was that all of the trees were short. Around two or three meters tall, maybe?

“The cherry blossom trees here are all small, huh?”

“Yes, the ones here are called ‘Omuro’ cherry blossoms, and strangely enough, they’re all short in height. It’s said that their roots are restrained as though in flowerpots, preventing them from growing any bigger, but the truth isn’t fully known yet, so providing a scientific explanation would likely require research.”

“Huh? Scientific research? It’s not just a species?”

“Right, it’s not a unique species. By the way, some people in Kyoto jokingly call people with low noses ‘Omuro blossoms,’ since the word for ‘nose’ is pronounced the same way as ‘flower.’”

“Low noses are Omuro blossoms? Even Kyoto’s teasing is elegant,” I said with a shrug, and Holmes chuckled, “Indeed.”

A lone priest approached us with a smile, wearing the black kimono called a ‘sky vestment.’

“Welcome, Mr. Yagashira. The monzeki is waiting for you.” He bowed, and we bowed back.

“Please, right this way,” the priest said as he began to walk.

“Um, what is the monzeki?” I asked feebly.

“This temple’s head priest,” answered Holmes.

We entered the temple and were led to a Japanese-style room, where we were instructed to wait. Tea and sweets had already been prepared for us on the table. The two of us sat down next to each other and looked outside. The paper sliding door had been left open, and the comfortable spring breeze gently blew in. The cherry blossoms were gorgeous under the dazzling blue sky.

After we had gazed at the cherry blossoms for a short while, the screen door slid open and the monzeki came in.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Long time no see.” Holmes bowed, and the monzeki narrowed his eyes fondly.

“My, you’ve grown, dear Kiyotaka.”

I guess they know each other.

“I’m sorry it’s me here today and not my grandfather.”

“It’s quite all right—Seiji said that you’d be able to handle this case.”

Seiji is the owner’s name. Now I understood; this was originally supposed to be the owner’s job, but he sent Holmes in his place.

Holmes and the monzeki made lively small talk for a bit before moving on to the real topic.

“So, today I’d first like you to take a look at this.” The monzeki gently placed a wooden box on the table.

“As you wish.” Holmes put on his white gloves as usual and pulled the box towards him. He opened it carefully, revealing a matcha tea bowl that he picked up and examined closely. It was beautiful, with cherry blossoms painted on the side.

“It’s Kyoto ware, I see. The lines are soft and full. It’s undeniably the work of Ninsei Nonomura. A splendid piece.” Holmes smiled, and the monzeki smiled back. “Is that so?”

Ninsei Nonomura… Who’s that? Just as I was wondering…

“Ninsei Nonomura was a potter from the first half of the Edo period. His real name was Seiemon. Nonomura was the name of the place where he was born, and the ‘nin’ in Ninsei is the one used in Ninna Temple’s name. The ‘sei’ was taken from his name, Seiemon.”

As usual, Holmes readily answered my unspoken thoughts.

“So basically, he became Ninsei Nonomura because he was Seiemon of Ninna Temple, born in Nonomura?” I asked. But why did his name include Ninna Temple’s ‘Nin’ in the first place?

“He was an exceptional potter, considered the founder of the style of Kyoto ware that uses overglaze enamels. He was granted the art name ‘Nin’ by the monzeki of Ninna Temple at the time and thus became Ninsei.”

He answered before I even had a chance to ask. Truly terrifying.

So in other words, this piece is the work of someone who had ties to this temple. That’s why they wanted to have this tea bowl appraised, right? Does this mean the job is done?

“But you wanted more than an appraisal, right?” Holmes looked up from the tea bowl.

The monzeki looked mildly surprised and responded, “That’s correct. There’s actually someone else who wanted a consultation regarding this tea bowl. Please wait a minute.”

He exchanged looks with the priest waiting in the hallway. The priest hurried away and soon returned with another man. The man entered the room and sat formally before us, bowing his head.

“My name is Kishitani. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He looked like an ordinary middle-aged man, although a bit on the tired side.

“This tea bowl belongs to him. Kishitani, he says it’s authentic,” relayed the monzeki.

Kishitani scratched his head. “I see.” For some reason, he didn’t look very happy.

“Is there something you don’t understand?” inquired Holmes, not missing a beat.

Kishitani lifted his face in surprise and replied, “Ah, yes. I received this from my old man. He departed the other day, and in his will he wrote, ‘That Ninsei tea bowl contains all of my feelings.’ I heard that Ninsei Nonomura was connected to Ninna Temple, so I came to consult with the monzeki.”

I was momentarily confused at his usage of “departed” to mean “passed away.” I was still not entirely comfortable with the local dialect.

“I couldn’t tell if the piece was authentic, so I asked Seiji for help,” continued the monzeki, and Holmes nodded in acknowledgment. “However, Kishitani, could it be that its authenticity itself represents your father’s feelings? Perhaps he thought that it would benefit you to sell it to a suitable buyer. How much would it fetch, Kiyotaka?”

“Hmm, it’s in good condition and the cherry blossoms are beautiful, so someone might be willing to pay five for it.”

Five. Obviously he didn’t mean five yen, but five million yen. The world of antiques is literally orders of magnitudes beyond mine.

“No, that’s not it. While he was alive, he told me not to sell this tea bowl, no matter what.”

“Is that so?” The monzeki crossed his arms, perplexed.

“Excuse me for the impudent question, but do you draw, Kishitani?”

Kishitani looked surprised by Holmes’s sudden question, but nodded. “Ah, yes. Kind of. How did you know?”

“You have a callus on your middle finger, and there’s something like ink on your nails… I suppose you’re not a painter, because that wouldn’t result in that kind of callus. You also said ‘kind of’ instead of naming your profession. Are you perhaps…a manga artist?”

Kishitani’s eyes opened wide as though he’d been caught off-guard, and the monzeki also looked surprised.

Well, I was surprised too.

“The fact that you didn’t name your profession right away implied that you weren’t in an environment where you could say it proudly. Was your father opposed to your career?”

Kishitani’s hands trembled in response to Holmes’s question. His face was pale, implying that it was spot-on.

I know how you feel, Kishitani. I totally do. It’s scary how he reads you.

After a moment of silence, Kishitani nodded. “Yes…he was. He was always against it, telling me that manga was worthless. But I didn’t give up on my dream. I fled the house and went to Tokyo, and it paid off because I managed to debut.

“I had a belief: through manga, I could express my thoughts to anyone, regardless of age or gender, without having to put on a bold front. I didn’t care about social standing; I just wanted everyone to enjoy my work and get something out of it.

“But…I didn’t gain the slightest bit of popularity, and my work didn’t sell. I struggled the whole time, so I couldn’t even return home in that state.” Kishitani smiled in self-deprecation.

“However, after that, you drew a popular manga, right?” Holmes continued.

Kishitani looked up at Holmes in shock again. “Y-Yes. I wouldn’t be able to stay alive at the rate I was going, so I listened to my editor and began drawing a genre that was popular at the time. Once I did that, it sold an unbelievable number of copies, and my lifestyle became much richer.”

“Was that when your father sent you this tea bowl?”

Kishitani flinched again. Apparently so.

“Y-Yes. My old man loved Kyoto ware and was especially attached to Ninsei Nonomura’s work. When I received it, I thought that I’d finally been acknowledged—that he was congratulating me. I wanted to return home right away, but couldn’t because I was busy with work. Then he passed away from illness, and I was finally able to come back for the funeral.

“When I read his letter, I thought that this tea bowl was meant to send a different message. What feelings are contained in this cherry blossom-patterned tea bowl? What did he want to tell me?” Kishitani looked at the tea bowl on the table, wondering to himself.

Holmes gently picked up the tea bowl and turned it over to the bottom. “Kishitani, have you seen the ‘Ninsei’ seal that was stamped here?”

“Y-Yes. That means it’s genuine, right?”

“Not necessarily. There are counterfeit Ninsei works running rampant that do bear the seal. What your father wanted to tell you has to do with Ninsei Nonomura’s seal,” declared Holmes.

Kishitani looked confused. Holmes continued, “Ninsei Nonomura was considered a pioneer because he stamped his own works. What had been a tea bowl created by an ordinary potter was now Ninsei’s work; in other words, he was asserting his brand. It was a mark of pride, proving that his work was unlike anyone else’s.”

Kishitani silently opened his eyes wide.

“Kishitani, could it be that your father wanted you to create works that contained your own feelings, rather than imitations of others? Did he want you to have pride in your brand like Ninsei Nonomura did, and draw your own work? And did he entrust his feelings to this tea bowl because he couldn’t say them out loud after being opposed to your career?” Holmes asked, holding the bowl in his hand.

Kishitani trembled, and the monzeki nodded with a warm smile.

“That must be true,” the monzeki said. “Being a manga artist is a tough job. As a parent, he wouldn’t agree to it so easily, because he wouldn’t want you to tackle it half-heartedly. He wanted you to be so fervent that you wouldn’t even care if your family cut you off over it. I’m sure that he was always reading your work, and he felt disappointed when you gave in to the current trends.”

“Ahhhhhh!” Kishitani broke down into tears at the monzeki’s kind explanation. It was clear how much suffering he’d endured, and I felt like I was going to cry too.

He’d set his sights on becoming a manga artist, defied his father and ran away from home, but had nothing to show for it. He then panicked, thinking that his father would never acknowledge him at that rate, and ended up drawing something different from what he’d intended. Still, he thought his father would be happy about his success…but he was wrong. His father was sad that his son had abandoned his goal. Kishitani’s feelings now after finding that out must be indescribable.

Kishitani wiped his tears with the cuff of his sleeve and slowly looked back up.

“To be honest, I’ve always struggled with the fact that what I want to draw doesn’t align with what sells. I forgot about my goal because of the hardship I was going through. But I’ll listen to my old man’s dying wish and stop trying to appeal to the public. I’ll draw what I want to express, and it’s okay if I’m not popular.”

Kishitani clenched his fists in his lap. Dreams, reality, ideals… I’m still a high schooler so I don’t understand it that well yet, but it must be difficult for these things to coexist.

As the bitter feelings lingered, Holmes added, “I think there’s one more message in this tea bowl. Please look at the design.” He turned the bowl back to its original orientation.

“Cherry blossoms…right?” Kishitani said in confusion.

“Yes, cherry blossoms. In my opinion, cherry blossoms are popular with everyone. In other words, this tea bowl depicts something that’s popular with everyone, but it’s undeniably Ninsei Nonomura’s brand.”

Kishitani looked like he had a sudden realization.

Holmes continued while holding the tea bowl affectionately, “I think it’s fine to draw things that’ll sell. After all, I don’t think someone who only draws what they like can be considered a professional. What’s important is that it includes your brand—your soul, don’t you think? That’s different from imitating others.”

Kishitani looked down. After a period of silence, he slowly looked back up, and a single tear streaked down his face.

“Mr. Yagashira, I may have been searching for those words all along. Thank you so much.”

He bowed so deeply that his forehead must’ve touched the tatami floor, and Holmes hastily shook his head, insisting that he did nothing.

“You really are Seiji’s grandson,” the monzeki sighed, impressed.

As I sat there, I realized that I may have witnessed the birth of an amazing manga artist. I got goosebumps thinking about it.