One
The scent of sizzling okonomiyaki, savory pancakes filled with noodles, cabbage, shrimp, and a sweet-and-tangy sauce, hung in the air, a familiar comfort in the bustling heart of Hiroshima. Tomiko Ueda, at seventeen, expertly managed the family’s okonomiyaki stand, her hands moving swiftly as she prepared the ingredients on the hot griddle. It was her routine, a place of stability amid the growing uncertainty of war that loomed over the city.
Every morning, Tomiko woke early to the sound of streetcar bells rattling across the Aioi Bridge, signaling the start of a new day. The laughter of children playing in the narrow alleys filled the air, a faint echo of happier times.
The Ueda’s Okonomiyaki stand was more than a family business; it was a thread in the fabric of the community. Located in the Nakajima District, between the Ota River’s Motoyasu and Honkawa branches, the stand had been a part of the Ueda family home for generations. The structure was a simple, two-story wooden dwelling, long and narrow, typical of a shida-tei, or merchant’s residence. The downstairs front featured large yukimi shoji, sliding windowpane doors that opened to reveal the okonomiyaki stand. A small wooden door on the side led to a narrow room with a few simple tables and chairs, offering a cozy space for patrons to dine in and they fondly gave the place its nickname Ue-ya’s.
On weekends and holidays, people patiently lined up, eager to be served. The family’s okonomiyaki, a recipe passed down from Tomiko’s grandfather, was a city favorite. Alongside the okonomiyaki, patrons could order tofu, pickles, and seasonal treats like edamame in the summer, often enjoyed with bottles of Sakura Beer, nihonshu, or shochu, back when things were normal.
The W.C., located at the end of the public dining room on the right, was shared by both the family and patrons. A dividing wooden wall with a small door led to another room and stairs to the second floor. This lower room, about eight tatami mats in size, served as the family’s dining area and housed a tiny kitchen. Another door led to a small bathroom.
Upstairs were two uncluttered rooms above the first floor. With the passing of Grandfather and then Grandmother, the space was more than sufficient for a family of five.
The surrounding area was lively, with quaint homes standing beside bustling markets. The air buzzed with daily commerce, and streets lined with theaters, shops, and restaurants drew in crowds, making it a vibrant hub of activity where every corner had its own story.
