Kenji reached into his bath bucket and pulled out a lump of greyish-white soap, misshapen from use. He held it out to Yuki.
Kenji blinked. “The sign? That’s just old advertising. They don’t actually—”
“I know,” she interrupted, then flushed. “I mean. I’m looking for someone. They said to meet here. A man who uses the mazome soap.”