​I woke from a jetlagged nap in the room I’d rented near Kyoto station before setting off West in search of Asahi-yu. It was past Toji Temple, away from Kamogawa and the popular shrines in the Northeast. I was nervous, nervous to visit the sento alone and nervous to be an outsider with limited perspective on its bathing customs. I circled the block several times before noticing a waving, red banner over the door and stepped inside.

 

ゆ

 

In the genkan, I sat on the ledge and slowly removed my shoes, watching an elderly woman as she pantomimed with her hands how the wooden mechanisms slid in and out of the shoe lockers' latches.

 

Walking to the counter, I purchased soap and shampoo from the attendant, fumbling with an array of coins that had begun to feel heavy in my pocket. Some of my things fell to the ground and an older man bent down to help, retrieving my toothbrush with a subtle, but welcoming glint in his eye.

 

It was sort of a relief to be naive, to be relying on the good graces of others to get me where I needed. It was like I was a child again.

 

In the next room, I removed my clothes and stood barefoot in the tatami-floored, dressing room. The sento housed a wide range of waters and facilities to soak in; herbal, milk, and mineral baths, a cold plunge, electrical pool, sauna, a steam room, and finally an outdoor onsen. I decided to try them all, migrating from pool to pool as steam rose higher into the air from the men who sat on small stools, scrubbing their backs and legs.

 

Across the room, a man of near 70 stood with his back to me, spraying water over himself and what looked to be irezumi. It was a full body tattoo, bearing the image of Oni, an elaborate portrait of a demon-man with fangs. The tattoo, still vivid, had faded with time, as it stretched from his collar to his lower thighs.

 

I sensed a familial energy between those present in the room that night with several younger men sitting together, donning their own in-progress tattoos depicting variations on the style. On my own in the herb bath, I laid down, up to my chin, in the translucent waters while two boys splashed nearby.

 

They craned their necks curiously to ask about its green color and I responded clumsily through laughs.

 

植物です。水の中は植物です。　

 

Plants. There were plants in the water for healing.

​

It occurred to me later that there were three generations of Kyoto men in the sento that evening, repairing themselves in silence and then there was me. Sticking out like a sore thumb with my pale skin and long hair tied back, I felt loose. Highly visible but permitted to repair myself alongside them.