Dressed in the rough, quilted cotton jackets and short pants of laborers, they walked to the market, a collection of shops crammed together under the deep overhanging eaves of the houses that lined the main street. Here they parted company. Tora headed toward the outskirts of town to Sato’s inn. He raised his eyebrows at a large new sign above its open gate. A gilded fish sported on it, and the words “Golden Carp” and “Mrs. Sato, Proprietress” were executed in elegant lettering. As the old couple had predicted, the new management planned to cater to a better type of guest. With old Sato barely dispatched to the judge of the underworld, Tora thought such haste a little unseemly. As he pondered what this might mean, a lanky youth came through the gate and began to sweep. Tora strolled across the street. The youth stopped what he was doing and stared at him. “You’re a good worker,” Tora commented.
