Concealed within the margins of Western Tokyo, two narrow streets trace the perimeter of a small chōme block in a suburban neighbourhood. At the corner where the paths converge, a broad two-storey home stands prominently, drawing my attention as I approach from the north. As the building's side elevation comes into view, its architectural features become apparent—the gently sloping, multi-layered tiled roof hints at tradition. A piled stone wall at the base adds a sense of solidity, with a roughly cut stone step at the entrance subtly suggesting wabi-sabi aesthetics. The exterior is painted a warm, natural beige, harmonising with Japanese black pines and cedar trees, carefully trained for the domestic garden. A weathered bamboo lattice fence encloses the scene, which seems to exist in a slower passage of time. My first impression is of a kominka (古民家), a private dwelling that has stood for many years.

As I turn the corner, however, a transformation unfolds. The house reveals a modern façade with contemporary features—large windows open the space, inviting more light inside. The garden, which seemed meticulously pruned from the side, now adopts a wilder character, with a more relaxed and natural growth punctuated by potted plants. The front of the house retains the outline of a kominka with its wooden beams, veranda, and eaves, yet it carries the look of panel-based prefabrication.

During the post-war period, traditional Japanese architecture experienced a revival as a counterpoint to earlier Western influences, while modern features and conveniences were simultaneously being integrated into daily life. Considering all this, the home was likely built in the 1960s. This type of mid-Shōwa Era (1926–1989) residence became common in the suburban landscape during Japan's post-war high-growth period. The building itself is not particularly unusual, but what truly caught my attention was the gate on the side elevation.

I had recently visited Kagerou Bunko, a second-hand bookshop in Kanda Jinbōchō, the district in Chiyoda-ku that serves as the centre of Tokyo's used bookshops and publishing houses. Kagerou Bunko specialises in rare illustrated books and prints and is part of the International League of Antiquarian Booksellers. Within the shop's limited quarters, where the air hung heavy with the aroma of old books, I browsed its extensive collection. In the corner of my mind, my dwindling suitcase space and shrinking luggage allowance for the flight home forced me to exercise restraint and keep purchases to a minimum. Resisting the allure of hefty ukiyo-e and photography tomes, I eventually selected a slim Kiku-ban B6-sized book. It is an attractive size, well-suited for easy handling and reading, yet slightly larger than the international B6, allowing for more creative freedom in design. The name itself is equally appealing, with "Kiku" (菊) meaning chrysanthemum and "Ban" (判) meaning size.