‘Kyoto Time’
BASED ON A TRUE STORY
First light rouses Shizuka from her futon. She dons an indigo kimono. Skirts and blouses are not for her. Maybe, if she had been an actress … Silly thought! Barefoot, she descends the ladder-steep staircase to her speck of a bar just off Pontocho.
Before breakfast every morning, she walks to Nishiki Tenmangu Shrine at the east end of Nishiki-Ichiba — the old market street north of Shijo Dori. There she prays to the god of business wisdom. The shrine gates are locked at this hour but Shizuka has a key to the service entrance. The priest’s wife is a friend from childhood.
Her rounded zori sandals tick an adagio tempo on the pavement. Ahead lies Kawaramachi Dori, one of Kyoto’s main north-south thoroughfares. Later in the day, it will be jammed. But now, it is empty, silent.
Shizuka cherishes silence. She loves the hush of the tea ceremony. Silence nourishes her after the nights of music, talk, and laughter.
She steps out onto Kawaramachi — two lanes going south, then two more going north. No lights here, no crosswalk, no traffic. She reaches the first lane marker when an engine’s whine rends the silence. She looks to her right. Two taxis are bearing down on her at full speed. Shizuka turns to face them. She bows deeply in apology — for being a nuisance, the nuisance of an older, quieter, slower Kyoto.
Shizuka relaxes, ready for the “other world.” The cars roar past, their wheels a blur to either side. Shizuka stays bowed in their wake, her kimono still rustling as the exhaust clears.
Is this heaven? But nothing has changed! She rises, slowly. She can see all the way to the mountains.
The taxis have left her alive. Untouched, like the soul of the city itself, by time.
Originally published at https://www.writersinkyoto.com
First Prize — Sixth Annual Kyoto Writing Competition
