The garden was a flat plot of roughly thirty square meters, and its flowers and shrubs were nothing special. However, there was a single mandarin orange tree, sufficiently tall that it served as a landmark from outside the fence. Whenever I returned home, I would pause for a moment to look at this tree. To one who has never ventured outside of Tōkyō, seeing oranges ripen on the branch is a novel experience. I imagined it must be a splendid sight when the green fruit ripens and slowly turns to yellow. Already there were several starting to change. According to the old woman, the tree produced sweet, succulent oranges. She invited me to eat my fill when they ripened, so I planned to help myself to a few each day. In another three weeks they'd be ready for eating. I had no reason to expect that I'd be gone within three weeks' time.
As I was thinking about the oranges, Yama Arashi dropped by unexpectedly to talk. Pulling a bamboo-wrapped package from his sleeve pocket and tossing it into the middle of the room, he told me that he'd bought beef for us to enjoy together on victory day. I'd been effectively barred from frequenting soba and dumpling shops, and they fed me nothing but potatoes and tōfu at my lodgings, so I gladly accepted. We borrowed a pan and some sugar from the old woman and immediately began to cook.
As he stuffed an excessive quantity of beef into his mouth, Yama Arashi asked if I knew that Red Shirt was on familiar terms with a certain geisha. I told him I'd sensed something going on with one of the geisha at Uranari's farewell party. He complemented me on my astuteness, noting that he'd just recently become wise to the situation himself.