Going about one's business in the train invariably means crossing through a whole lot of cars that don't have little segmented rooms and a narrow hall. The rock garden is just such a place, and here's Koumyou, sitting on a bench and smoking his kiseru.

He brightens visibly at the sight of his grumpy son, and digs into his sleeve for a cigarette, lighting it and holding it out in invitation. Come sit with an old man?