It wasn't until she started her second decade that she finally sorted herself out. She understood herself. She felt secure. She could talk to men without feeling so squeamish.
Not that it was ever a frequent occurrence. Unsurprisingly, the bookstore very rarely attracted the attention of village men. Except one—and of course, it was him: the carpenter, formerly known as the carpenter's son. He had quietly inherited the family business when his father had retired after throwing out his back, though Kosuzu hadn't believed a word of it—she'd seen his father carrying an entire log into the workshop just the other day.
On days the carpenter didn't have immediate business, he would visit Suzunaan and thumb through a book in silence. He would read fiction, historical documents, mythological text, self-help books, instructional manuals. Either he had a voracious appetite for literature, or he wasn't picky.
At some point, these visits to Suzunaan became regular, and Kosuzu had half a mind to kick him out. But when she asked her mother about it, her mother would say that Kosuzu didn't understand. Well, she didn't because Suzunaan wasn't a library. It was a business—but her mother would laugh freakishly loud whenever she said that.
The day was routine, as the two of them shared the table in silence, each absorbed in their own books. Not a single word was uttered that day until the sharp crack of fireworks rumbled through Suzunaan's walls.
Oh, Kosuzu thought, I forgot. Today's the festival, isn't it? She looked up from her book and stared idly through the windows of the bookstore, watching from the inside. Several people she knew passed by—some of them were holding hands, some of them not. Great. She was happy for them, somewhat.
"I wonder," she said, "if I'm destined to be small and unwomanly forever."
Then she froze. Kosuzu had meant only to think that, but, without thinking, she had let her lips wander. She'd forgotten that she wasn't alone.
Hideji set his book down.
And he said, "You're fine the way you are."
She raised her book up to hide her face.
"Oh," she said. "I see."
The rest of the evening returned to silence—or maybe it didn't. Kosuzu wasn't sure because her mind was swimming with thoughts of him.
