The Kimura Brewery blossomed with the aroma of steamed rice escaping from the fermentation tanks. To Mariko, it was the smell of a new sake season, of memories, of simpler days brought to life. She strolled by the tanks, making conversation with the kurabito, asking how they were and the health of their families.
No member of the team was left out. Mariko stopped by the koji room and had the familiar sensation of stepping into a sacred place. The heat inside the room felt pleasant on her skin, like basking in an onsen bath. The workers bowed politely in greeting and she returned the gesture, indicating that they could continue.
Each man worked in union, walking up and down the line of trays, sprinkling mould onto the rice in perfect synchronicity.
It was like watching a graceful dance unfold, every movement choreographed to the rhythm of music only the men could hear. Her ritual complete, Mariko went to the upper floor of the brewery to her office.
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