Ding-a-ling! The moment Yoshiharu Doi stepped inside the café, he clicked his tongue in dismay, realizing he’d made a mistake. He’d worked in Kinshicho for many years but hadn’t known about this café until today. He’d been so surprised when he’d seen it that he’d walked in without thinking…but it turned out not to be the sort of place for a fifty-something like him.
The interior was stylish, but what stood out to him the most was that the only people he could initially see were young girls. To him, they were mere children. There were low tables on a tatami floor, and a very young girl—a customer or the owner’s daughter—was sitting there with a board game in front of her. Beside her was another girl in a high school uniform Yoshiharu didn’t recognize. That one was looking bored.
As for the staff, there was a waitress in her late twenties who looked like a retired hostess-bar girl. In the kitchen was a Black man, presumably the owner.
The only other man on the premises was a youngster sitting at the counter, eating a monaka.
Yoshiharu felt out of place. He guessed smoking wasn’t allowed there. It didn’t look like the sort of café where you could light up a cigarette. It was more like a trendy place where young people went to take cool selfies to post online. You could tell by the way the staff were dressed in kimonos. The owner wore his properly, but the waitress tied hers loosely, wearing it rather sloppily. It was one of those “concept cafés,” no doubt.
Yoshiharu let out the tiniest of sighs, not wanting the staff to notice. He cursed himself for rashly going into a place that was clearly meant for a different crowd. What should he do? He wanted to leave, but that would be awkward. He supposed he could have a quick cup of tea before retreating. He scanned the café for a place to sit. There were counter seats, low tables on the tatami floor, and Western-style tables on the second floor… He didn’t want to sit near the little girl in the tatami area, but going upstairs with so many open spots downstairs would seem unnatural…which left the counter seats. He sat down on the opposite end from the waitress, who remained rudely seated despite there being customers in the café.
“Is it your first time here? Mizuki, stop slacking and bring the gentleman a menu,” the owner spoke firmly.
The waitress, Mizuki, reluctantly got off her chair.
“I can take over, Boss.”
Another waitress appeared from the back dressed in a blue kimono. She wore her long black hair in two ponytails. She seemed to be high school age, but unlike Mizuki, she had put on her kimono properly. She looked elegant, her back straight as a pole, and while her eyes were serious, they only added to her refined bearing. She’d undoubtedly be a great beauty in ten or so more years. For now, she was still only a child.
The girl brought him a menu, which Yoshiharu intended to give only a cursory glance, but the content surprised him. The dessert section listed parfaits, but it primarily had traditional Japanese sweets. To Yoshiharu, that was a big plus. The problem was choosing something to drink. Despite offering Japanese desserts, the café seemed to not have any tea on the menu. What it did have was all sorts of coffee. Was this what they called one of those fusion cuisine venues? How bizarre. Cafés were supposed to sell coffee and cake, even if they had a Japanese aesthetic and served their fare on Japanese tableware. But maybe it was just as well that this café was different. It wouldn’t feel right to order tea without anything to go with it, but coffee was perfectly fine to have on its own.
“Er… I’ll just have a black coffee.”
“Certainly. Would you like anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
“One black coffee. Right away, sir.”
The black-haired waitress had a clear, pretty voice to match her looks. Yoshiharu couldn’t help thinking that if she’d only been born earlier, or if he were younger, he would’ve tried chatting her up.
The waitress went away, and the bell rang, announcing a customer coming in—a middle-aged tough guy, the sort Yoshiharu would have expected to see on the south side, not here in this quiet corner of Kinshicho. The man casually greeted the staff, called over the little girl (whose name was Kurumi), and sat down at one of the tables with a board game out. He was acting like a regular.
To Yoshiharu’s mounting surprise, more and more people started coming in. There was an elderly man, a woman with an infant, a terribly tired-looking middle-aged woman carrying a tablet under her arm, a middle schooler in a uniform not commonly seen in these parts… This motley crew headed to the tables prepared by Kurumi like it was a familiar routine.
The owner set a cup of coffee in front of Yoshiharu.
“One black coffee for you, sir… It’s going to be a bit livelier than usual today. My apologies.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother me… I have to say, this café isn’t what I expected.”
The other customer sitting at the counter, eating monaka, laughed in a friendly manner.
“I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “It looks like an exclusive, stylish place for those in the know, but it’s a whole different story once you go inside! It’s a vibrant, welcoming space. Eclectic in the best possible way.”
Meanwhile, more customers of various ages were coming in. The café was filling up. There was a couple, a man by himself like Yoshiharu who was drinking coffee while perusing a horse racing newspaper—not something you saw much these days—and teenagers taking photos of their food with their smartphones. Perhaps that was what the café was usually like, and Yoshiharu had just happened to come in at a rare quiet moment.
The high school girl who’d been hanging out by the low tables turned out to be a waitress too. Once it had gotten busy, she’d quickly changed into a kimono, and was now bustling between the tables.
Yoshiharu noticed that his earlier sense of not belonging had faded away. The customer who had been eating monaka earlier, who’d left when the other customers had started pouring in, was right about the café. It was a friendly space where everyone was welcome. The customers drinking coffee, enjoying desserts, playing board games in the corner, the waitresses weaving in and out among them—they were all smiling, having a good time. Yoshiharu reflected upon his initial unfavorable opinion of the place and found it unjustified—it was a wonderful café with equally wonderful customers. But what about him? He gazed down at his reflection inside his almost-empty coffee cup. People used to tell him he resembled Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, but his face had rounded recently, the features had lost their sharpness, so any resemblance to the famous writer was long gone. It wasn’t only because he’d put on weight, though—he was already two decades older than Akutagawa was when he’d died. He was getting on in years, and he felt he looked older than he was. Much older than three years ago, when he’d retired. He was surprised by how much he had aged in such a short time.
The weariness in his bones was adding more years to his age, he supposed, which was odd when you thought about it. He wasn’t working anymore, yet every day, he woke up tired. It put him in a gloomy mood, and he no longer smiled. All that added up, making him seem like an old man.
He’d been excited about early retirement, looking forward to having the freedom to spend his days how he wanted to, but the reality was different. He’d go for “walks,” which were just aimless strolls through the town; he’d kill time watching shows on TV that he had no interest in and drink alcohol to try to speed up the passage of time until, finally, yet another unnecessarily long day was over.
Back when he was working, when he was young, did he glow like these café girls? Not realizing he was living the best part of his life, was he single-mindedly devoting himself to whatever cause? He couldn’t tell. He’d forgotten what it was like. Maybe he used to have that same spark. Maybe he never did. In any case, he was sure that the rest of his life would be dull, without as much as a hint of dazzling joy.