Mount Haruna & Ikaho Onsen The mountain reflected in the lake—and my shrinking box of manju

When I reached the shore of Lake Haruna, I saw a mountain across the lake, with its reflection on the water below. The same mountain above and below—I couldn't help comparing the two. I stopped walking and watched for a while, then remembered I was carrying a box of manju I'd bought in Ikaho.

I thought I'd make the most of it, so I sat down by the lake to eat while I took in the view. I opened the box and took a bite of manju. The sweetness of the bean paste spread across my tongue. I kept one hand against my cheek and savoured it for a while.

Haruna Fuji’s rounded shape looks a little longer in the reflection. Each time a breeze ruffled the water, the mountain that had looked so crisp began to blur at the edges. As I watched, the manju in my hand was gone, and I found myself reaching into the box again.

Once I had the next one in hand, I thought, “Wait, had I already finished the last one?” I wanted to take in the view and savour my manju properly. I was trying to give both my full attention, but somehow the box kept getting emptier by the minute!

This time, I stopped eating and took a slow look across the lake. The autumn trees stretching from the mountain’s foothills to the shore—and the branches overhead—looked completely different up close than they did from farther away. I’d walked right past so much of this scenery; once I stopped, I found details everywhere.

When I closed the box to head back, it was so much lighter than before that I laughed. I’d taken in plenty of mountain and lake views, and I was completely satisfied with the manju, too. I can already picture myself walking Ikaho’s stone steps later, chatting about today’s scenery and peeking into the shops again.