Chapter 16: Dropping the Bomb

Dropping the Bomb

I am in Hiroshima right now. When I got off the bullet train and stepped outside the station, I was surprised because there were barely any tall buildings. But when I went to the other side of the station, there were plenty. For a moment, I thought that even Hiroshima had no people.

The atmosphere feels completely different depending on which side of the station you are on. I head to a large post office nearby to drop the bomb.

When I say bomb, I do not mean an explosive. But what I am doing will destroy something all the same. I will blow it apart.

Ah, maybe the word bomb is insensitive here in Hiroshima. I really did not mean it that way. I did not even realize it until just now.

Oh. There are people reading what I write. The view count shot up. Until now, I wrote without thinking that anyone might actually read this.

By writing to some vague someone, I was trying to organize my own thoughts. But there are real people reading these words. I understand that now. Even so, my thinking has not changed. I am a pathetic nerd who got cheated on. No one who knows me in real life is reading this, so I told myself I would not be embarrassed.

That was a lie. I am extremely embarrassed. And miserable.

That is why I am taking revenge. Only after running away did that feeling fully surface. Until then, all I could think of was escape. It is not like I normally run away from things.

At my previous job, I even visited companies that had filed complaints. I went myself, knowing I would be yelled at. I still went. Because I believed that if I could not overcome that, then I could not overcome anything.

I thought that even if I got yelled at, I would go home at night, get drunk, and fall asleep. Maybe pass out in the living room, and my wife would wake me up saying, you will catch a cold. I imagined that future, so I faced all the trials and walls in front of me.

But I could not do it anymore. After learning about her affair, I could not do anything. Facing hardship became impossible. All I could think about was running. Running from work, from relationships, from home, from the housing loan, and from the child.

And of course, from my wife.

After running away, it felt like my feet finally landed on the ground. And once they did, maybe I could brace myself again.

So I began my revenge.

The bomb I prepared has already been sent. It will probably activate in one or two days. Until then, I will enjoy Hiroshima. I will eat okonomiyaki.

I have had Kansai-style okonomiyaki outside of Kansai. The vegetables are mixed into the batter, so it has a uniform texture. But the kind served in food courts is always soggy and disappointing.

In that case, homemade okonomiyaki is cheaper and better. At home, I was the one who cooked it. I would set the hot plate on the low table, my wife would prepare the ingredients, and I would cook.

I mixed yam into the batter to make it fluffy. The surface would be slightly crispy. Then sauce, aonori, and of course mayonnaise.

My wife used to say, you are really good at making okonomiyaki. You could open a restaurant. This is bad. I am crying. Tears are coming. My emotions will not stay still.

Anyway, Hiroshima okonomiyaki is layered instead of mixed, so I want to see how it holds together. I want to eat the real thing and learn the secret.

I ate it. Hiroshima okonomiyaki. It is like an entirely different dish from Kansai-style.

They spread a very thin layer of batter first. Since it is so thin, I thought they would have to put the cabbage on immediately.

But they do not. They wait until the batter is completely cooked. The gloss disappears, the moisture leaves, and it becomes firm. Only then do they add the cabbage. And it is an unbelievable amount. I thought I had picked the wrong place.

But that was not the case. Then came tempura bits and squid tempura. The thin, crunchy kind. They crushed it and sprinkled some kind of fish powder.

I ordered the pork version, so they placed thinly sliced pork on top. Layer upon layer, forming a mountain. Then a little batter over it. I thought it would fall apart for sure.

They placed a metal dome over it and waited. The shop was crowded, even on a weekday. The staff worked on other orders and left mine for what felt like forever. I started to worry they forgot it.

Just when I began to wonder for real, they removed the lid and flipped it with practiced hands. Another lid. And before I realized it, sauce, mayo, and aonori had been added.

When it was placed in front of me, it was holding together perfectly. I wondered how the batter and cabbage were connected.

Then I realized another question. Should I cut okonomiyaki like pizza or in squares.

If I cut it like pizza, the pieces would be even. But I am eating alone. There is no need for uniformity.

If I cut it in squares, the pieces will differ in size and balance. But since the sauce covers everything, the small differences in texture might make each bite interesting.

I did not know what kind of inner philosopher I had become, but while thinking, I realized it was simply delicious.

The batter and cabbage are not unified. But they are not separate either. The cabbage releases moisture which binds everything. The moisture softens the batter while it stays crisp.

There are many flavors from the squid tempura and pork, but the sauce brings them together. Okonomiyaki sauce is a genius.

I did not know this. I had always eaten okonomiyaki. Kansai-style. Homemade.

Yet even within something called okonomiyaki, there were things I did not know.

Maybe my wife was the same. We were classmates in high school. Then we went to different universities, met again while working, dated, and got married.

I formed my own idea of who she was. But the wife from high school, the wife after becoming an adult, and the wife after becoming a mother were slightly different in my mind.

I do not think people change that much inside. Maybe I was simply learning who she was little by little.

In high school, she turned down confessions from good-looking guys one after another. I wondered what kind of person she was waiting for. I thought she was arrogant.

Yet when we met again as adults, she easily agreed to go drinking. I thought she had no one else to hang out with.

I thought I was only useful as someone with a car. Someone convenient.

And yet she married me. So I started to believe that she liked me.

I loved my wife. Not as some trophy. I did not even want to tell former classmates we married. I wanted her to be mine alone.

I loved her as a person. As a woman. I thought I could do anything for her. And our child was as precious to me as she was.

But everything was different. The child was not mine. And my wife was having an affair. She is still having the affair right now.

Who was the wife I thought I knew. What was she thinking. I no longer understand anything.

This is bad. I ran away, yet no matter what I do, I think about her. I paid the bill and decided to return to Fukuoka.