Suddenly he took a fish straight out of the hot molded griddle, wrapped it in a brown paper bag, and extended it towards Janie, “Here!”

Seeing the expression on Janie’s face, he laughed. “If I sell even one of these this early in the morning I get into heaven!”

JANIE AND THE TAIYAKI MAN BY KAREN BREMER MASUDA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 39

The smell of sweet bean paste and grilled batter wafted on the air as Janie Matsushita rounded the corner.

There was a mist in the air, and the sunlight reflected in the mist felt like anticipation. That smell, the smell of taiyaki, should not be happening at this hour. Weekend afternoons were the time for that smell, when taiyaki were sold in the parking lot of the grocery store.

Janie was still deep in the shadow of the apartment building she lived in with her husband, three kids, two cats, and Chopper. They lived on the top floor of the six-storey building with a view of the river bed, dry or raging with water depending on the season, and the sprawling city of Shizuoka beyond.

At six-thirty that morning, Janie hooked the leash to Chopper’s collar. She didn’t know why her heart fluttered.

Chopper, a white dachshund, seemed to be drawn to the smell or the light, or both. Janie craned her neck off the front veranda to see if she could catch a glimpse of the source of that smell. Chopper wouldn’t allow it. They ran out of the elevator and through the door to the far end of the parking lot of the supermarket.

Sure enough, the stand selling taiyaki and takoyaku, octopus-filled battered balls, was set up on the other side of the parking lot.

Janie knew the taiyaki man, as well as she could know anyone from whom she bought taiyaki as many times as she had. But she tried to hold back from approaching this man busily working the iron grills, pouring batter into the irons, adding a generous dollop of sweet bean paste to the middle of each. Why was he out here at this hour? There was no one to grill for!

Janie felt drawn to the taiyaki stand more than Chopper’s desire to pull her there. It was more than simple curiosity too. She would have to find out the reason for all this bright activity on an otherwise still, early morning. Janie laughed nervously, with the uncanny feeling that Chopper, she, and the man were the only ones alive on this whole earth.

If he saw them approach, he didn’t let on, but how could he not be aware of the only other person in the world and her dog? Even if there had been many people milling around, like on a regular Sunday afternoon, Chopper and Janie stood out for the color of their hair, hers, what they call red in America and gold in Japan, and the dog’s white, rare for a dachshund.

What really surprised Janie the most, were his words, without even looking up from his work, “You’re early, you golden-haired ones!!”

Janie put a hand to her hair, thinking what a nice word gold was for her red hair. “Thank you, but his hair is white you know!” She motioned towards Chopper. The feeling that she’d been complimented dissipated with the realisation that anything not standard black would be referred to as kinpatsu.

Janie stood dumbfounded, while he kept busy, only glancing her way for a brief nod, like he had a million customers waiting. Suddenly he took a fish straight out of the hot molded griddle, wrapped it in a brown paper bag, and extended it towards Janie, “Here!”