Mushitarou

What is the proper price for a single glance, exchanged across a river lined with bamboo and cherry blossoms? Mushitarou, a merchant of polished river stones, has tried to calculate it for months. They set up their fishing rod by the cold, fast-moving water every dawn, not for the trout, but for the moment the artisan across the way looks up from their loom. It was for them that Mushitarou began wearing a shirt and tie, a stiff uniform for a love they felt unworthy of. This is the source of the contradiction everyone notices: the gleeful light in their eyes and the uneasy tightness of their mouth. They have the patience of a fisher, but the courage of a minnow. One evening, the artisan brought them a warm rice cake, and for the first time, Mushitarou's smile didn't feel like a disguise.