“After some research, I’m finding that cafés in this area are rather peculiar,” Kazuhiko said to Mika.
The barista paused his work and turned to his customer at the counter.
“Research?”
“I’m not going to write that article featuring your café, of course, but I’m writing something similar…”
When Mika had refused to have Café LycoReco featured in a magazine, he’d taken the wind out of Kazuhiko’s sails…but his publisher had gotten really fired up about the concept. Ultimately, they wanted to go with a special about daytime Kinshicho and Kameido venues appealing to young women, including a ten-page feature solely about cafés. Kazuhiko was commissioned as the leading writer for that part.
“I’ve started the fieldwork, visiting the famous local cafés. Sumida Coffee aside, there’s Hokusai Teahouse, which serves Japanese fare. Near the Kameido Station, we have Coffee Dojo Samurai, where the servers are handsome young men dressed in quirky samurai armor. Then there’s Funabashi-ya, with a big line of tourists every day. There are, of course, other long-established or specialty cafés, but it’s striking how so many have a Japanese theme, don’t you think?”
“Might that not be because of proximity to Asakusa?”
“Asakusa is more about Taisho nostalgia, I’d say, or retro-style cafés.”
“Now that you mention it, that’s true… I suppose it is a local oddity that we have so many Japanese-theme cafés.”
“Why did you choose to go with this aesthetic?”
“Mr. Tokuda, I thought I’d made it clear we didn’t want to be featured in your article.”
“Yes, but I’m not asking for work reasons… Just personal curiosity.”
“Well, in that case… It appealed to me as I’m a fan of Japanese culture. I suppose I was also influenced by my previous workplace, which placed great stock in traditional Japanese culture. That was where I first encountered the finest quality Japanese desserts, which I fell in love with. I prefer coffee to green tea, though… So, there you have it.”
“And what was your previous workplace?”
Mika looked away and smiled. As a regular customer, Kazuhiko understood that meant Mika wouldn’t tell him more.
It was strange about this café how an innocent question would mysteriously go unanswered as if the staff was guarding some secret. The other regulars simply enjoyed the atmosphere, but Kazuhiko’s journalistic senses were tingling. The past, in particular, seemed a sensitive topic.
“By the way, Mr. Tokuda, if you’re not writing about Japanese-theme cafés specifically but noteworthy Kinshicho cafés, may I suggest Tommy? They serve amazing, classic Japanese pancakes. They’re located close to the station on the north side. If you haven’t tried them already, you definitely should.”
Kazuhiko thought Mika was intentionally changing the topic, but as a writer constantly looking for inspiration, he dutifully noted the name of the pancake place on his phone. If Mika recommended the store, he could expect stand-out quality.
“Thanks. I’ll head over there later.”
“Their pancakes are crazy good! I love them!” said Chisato, coming out of the staff room.
She walked over to the low tables on the tatami floor…where she set down a gas takoyaki maker.
“Chisato… What on earth?” Mika asked her suspiciously.
“It’s a takoyaki maker! I found it dirt cheap at Mr. Orimoto’s thrift store!”
“I’m asking, what on earth are you doing?”
“Making staff lunch! It’s my turn today.”
Mizuki appeared out of nowhere with a can of beer.
“Now we’re talking!”
Kurumi came over, narrowing her eyes.
“Are you crazy, Chisato? Cooking takoyaki right in the middle of the café during business hours?”
Despite her grumbling, she sat down at the table, evidently not opposed to eating takoyaki.
Chisato began laying out all the ingredients. Kurumi curiously peered at each of them, like a dog sniffing something it hadn’t seen before. She’d never watched takoyaki being made in person.
“So…how do you put all this together?”
“Wait and see! First, we need to heat the metal plate, and then we add a generous amount of oil.”
Before long, the café began to fill with the smell of dough frying in oil, accompanied by gentle sizzling. Mika turned the extractor fan on at full power, but it was pretty pointless. The smell of cooking oil overwhelmed all the other gentler scents of his café.
✦ ✦ ✦
By the time the first batch was ready, a crowd of regulars had gathered around the low tables as if lured in by the smell. People who couldn’t find a seat lingered in the tatami area nonetheless.
“Oooh, yeah! This is good! What’s better than freshly cooked takoyaki and a cold one?!” shouted Mizuki, helping herself to a takoyaki from the first batch.
On cue, customers started reaching for the little octopus balls with the same urgency usually reserved for bargain sales. They picked them up with chopsticks and skewered them with toothpicks. The tray that held twenty takoyaki emptied in seconds. Chisato started cooking the next batch right away.
“Boss, everything’s going to smell of oil at this rate…,” Takina said worriedly, giving Kazuhiko a fresh glass of water.
“It’s too late to do anything about it… Go and eat some takoyaki, Takina.”
She walked away, and Mika sighed deeply, resignation in his eyes.
“Your staff meals are quite unusual,” remarked Kazuhiko.
“They’re not… Except when it’s Chisato’s turn to cook. On other days, it’s standard fare… Well, maybe not always standard… Ahem…”
Kazuhiko sensed there was something Mika didn’t want to discuss, but he didn’t press the barista. He took a sip of his American coffee.
Now and again, the barista would conspicuously go quiet. As a grown man, Kazuhiko understood the importance of respecting boundaries, which was why Mika’s mysterious smile was enough to stop him from asking about his past.
Kazuhiko finished his coffee in one big gulp, slowly breathed out, and smiled wryly. The aroma of coffee was all but drowned out by the smell of the takoyaki. It made him strangely restless, or perhaps excited?
“It does look fun.”
Regular customers surrounded Chisato and the takoyaki maker like a food stall at a festival… No, the atmosphere was more heartwarming and intimate than at a festival. A house party? A takoyaki party?
Kazuhiko wasn’t as critical as Kurumi, but even he had to admit it was bizarre for a café to serve takoyaki at lunchtime. But if any place was going to do that, it had to be Café LycoReco. It had to be Chisato.
“And here’s some for you, Mr. Kazuhiko!”
Chisato came over to Kazuhiko, carrying two takoyaki on a small plate, with bonito flakes and green nori sprinkled on top. A dollop of dark takoyaki sauce was on the side of the plate with a line of mayonnaise over it. It looked quite fancy served like that, but the main reason Chisato didn’t squirt the sauces directly onto the takoyaki was to keep them from getting soggy.
Kazuhiko looked from Chisato to the dispirited Mika.
“It’s okay, Mr. Tokuda. Enjoy the takoyaki… It’s on the house.”
“Ha-ha… Thank you.”
A toothpick was provided on the side of the plate. Kazuhiko picked it up and pierced a takoyaki, feeling how crisp it was on the outside. A puff of steam escaped from the inside. The takoyaki must have been very hot, but he had a glass of cool water if needed.
Deciding not to wait for the food to cool down, Kazuhiko dipped the takoyaki in the little sauce puddle and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
Trying to eat a freshly fried takoyaki in one bite was exceedingly foolhardy, but he hoped the cool sauces would lessen the impact… They didn’t.
“Itf hawt!” Kazuhiko squealed as the piping hot liquid takoyaki filling spilled into his mouth.
He breathed out a white cloud of steam.
Chisato laughed. The other customers turned to look and laughed as well, which at first irked Kazuhiko, desperately trying to bear the scalding hot sensation, but by the time he finished chewing, he also found himself laughing.
Café LycoReco was no ordinary café—where else would the staff sometimes share their food with you? It was fun, and the food was delicious. How could anyone not to love the place?
However, Kazuhiko would have to pick another day to check out the pancake place. He’d scalded his tongue pretty badly.