[Fukuoka prefecture]

Twice each month, my elementary school used to serve a dish called “okyuto” at lunch.

Okyuto is like tokoroten jelly noodles and is made from seaweed varieties like Campylaephora hypnaeoides and Gelidium amansii. It is a local Hakata specialty. Written with Chinese characters meaning “savior” or “rescuer,” it apparently got its name because it was eaten by the townspeople of Hakata during famines to avoid starvation.

I hated it.

The slimy texture and seaweed odor made it like eating slugs. Okyuto itself has no flavor and is eaten with ponzu sauce, but I hated that as well.

If you are wondering why this virtually nutritionless food was being served at lunch, it seems that one of the former principals decided it would make children be more thankful for the age of abundance we now live in. As a child, I truly felt sorry for the people who had to avoid starvation by eating this awful food, so I guess the principal’s idea worked.

Be that as it may, every second and fourth “okyuto” Wednesday was truly a trial. It was a rule that we could not leave anything on our plates, so I had to hold my nose and eat it. How I cursed that former principal.

This state of affairs continued, even through my second year and then through my third in elementary school. I would be dejected from the moment I woke up every second and fourth Wednesday.

One day, the seating arrangement in class was changed. All the students in class drew lots to determine their new seating assignment.

“Hi,” said my new neighbor, Kato. I was reserved and thoughtful and hardly spoke to any of the kids in class, including him. Nevertheless, Kato greeted me with a carefree smile.

“Ah, h-hi,” I answered with some discomfort. I was not used to such innocent smiles. Elementary school differs little from a pack of monkeys. There are only bosses and underlings and the only way underlings could raise their standing was to pull someone else down.

Kato, however, was different. When recess came, he immediately invited me to play together. And, as we’d just become neighbors, he wanted it to be just the two of us.

“What do you want to play?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Okay, let’s play catch.”

Kato grabbed my hand and pulled me along. Just as we were about to leave the classroom and enter the hallway, however, he stopped.

“Oh, hang on a second. Let’s take a look at today’s lunch menu.”

This recess was the mid-morning break between second and third period. Accordingly, we hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

Still holding my hand, he quickly dragged me over to the menu posted next to the blackboard. It noted all of the meals for the week. I cursed my bad luck. Today was another okyuto day.

I couldn’t tell him we were having okyuto that day. Even if he was about to learn that sad fact for himself soon enough, I just didn’t want to see his face drop.

“Awesome! Okyuto today!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Awesome? He was... happy?

“You like okyuto?”

“Love it!”

I just couldn’t believe it. How could anyone in the world like okyuto? In order to avoid any bullying, I had never talked with anyone about how I hated okyuto. Thus I had never heard how my classmates felt about the food.

Looking at my face, Kato became confused.

“Wait; you don’t like okyuto?!”

“Nope, I don’t.”

Kato’s eyes lit up.

“Will you give me yours, then?”

“Sure.”

Shouting “Yes!” Kato leaped into the air. I still couldn’t believe it. This had to be too good to be true.

Being in the same assigned squad, when lunch came we moved our desks in to face each other. Once the meal was dished out and we all expressed our thanks for the food, Kato and I exchanged looks.

Swapping food was forbidden. In order to keep anyone from seeing, we pushed our plates together under our desks. I boldly pushed over more than half of my okyuto onto Kato’s plate. Looking at the result, Kato made a face as if to ask “Are you really giving me all this?” but, then spying my plate, he instead whispered, “Can you give me that big one, too?”

I moved the rest of what was on my plate onto Kato’s. “Are you sure?” Kato asked. Of course I was sure! I nodded emphatically.

From that day forward, I gained a good friend and was released from the hell that was okyuto. I have never in my life since experienced such a mutually beneficial relationship.

And that wasn’t the end of my good fortune.

Kato was an even better guy than I had imagined.

“It ain’t fair for me to just get stuff from you. You can have whatever you want off my plate,” Kato said the next okyuto day. I, a light eater and someone who had always struggled to clean his plate at lunch, was not delighted by this offer. Even so, I didn’t feel like I could just refuse.

“Okay, then... give me your margarine.”

Lunch in elementary school included two slices of bread and a single tiny margarine pack. No matter how thin you spread it, it was never enough, and the bread I ate was always dry.

“Huh? You like margarine?”

Once again Kato was surprised. And seeing his surprise, I was surprised.

“You saying you don’t like margarine?”

“Nope, I don’t.”

Kato gladly presented me with his margarine. And not just that. He called out and asked all our classmates who didn’t like margarine to give me theirs. Under the rules, it was okay to swap margarine.

From then on, every day five or six margarine packs would be placed on my desk. Bread slathered in margarine became a favorite of mine and I no longer had trouble finishing my lunches.

And now, as an adult, I eat okyuto once a month. It may not be delicious, but it was my “savior.”