Okay, let’s just pretend I didn’t see that.
“Ah, yes. Well, why bother yourself over this nonsense?” he asked.
Nakao let loose as if she couldn’t wait any longer.
“Ah, sorry. We followed an adviser’s recommendation. Seems Chairman Horinouchi of the Tenderness stores calls him his counselor. Counselor Niseko.”
Tatsuhige Horinouchi was well known in Kyūshū. His small local market had grown into an extensive chain of convenience stores throughout the island. He was an energetic older man who was noted for appearing in the company’s TV ads. Caring for People, Caring for You: Tenderness. Yoshirō could picture his familiar figure, his powerful voice stating the company’s slogan.
“Consultant Niseko said we should do it. That since we went through all the trouble to get good beans, we should take the time to pick them over. So we’re trying it out here.”
Yoshirō took another sip. Was it a ludicrous amount of time and effort? No, when he tasted the difference, any doubts melted away. Yoshirō breathed a sigh of agreement, but Nakao frowned slightly.
“The problem is, if all the stores do the work we’re doing, they won’t be able to make ends meet. And then we would no longer be able to price it at 150 yen. So it seems like the best path going forward is to focus on having the beans picked at the plant, right after they roast them, instead of at the stores.”
A few months later, the coffee began to taste better at all the Tenderness stores, just as Nakao had predicted. But Shiba never stopped picking and sorting the beans himself, so the coffee at his branch was still special—head and shoulders above the rest.
Yoshirō was so impressed by the taste of the coffee that he added a visit to the shop to his daily commute. Sometimes he’d talk with Nakao and Shiba. Along the way, Nakao eventually explained that the mysterious Niseko was not an employee of the chain, but rather just an enthusiastic customer.
“Chairman Horinouchi set up a PO box because he wanted to hear from customers directly. Messages go straight to him, without anyone interfering. This Niseko writes to him all the time, and has a lot to say.”
She explained that Niseko had acquired the title of “consultant” largely due to the suggestion that the store carry baby food. Nakao, whose son was now in high school, folded her arms at this point in the story and said in a serious voice, “Baby food isn’t easy.
“It’s really hard to make something that you can feed a baby,” she continued. “My husband was always quite the chef, but when it came to baby food, he said himself that he was at his wit’s end. There were all sorts of problems. We needed to use sterilized jars, but we kept running out…Well, anyway, we heard that Niseko wrote to the chairman and said she wanted him to sell baby food at the store.”
You should provide food for babies, too, said the letter. It went straight to the chairman, and he responded.
He created a Baby Corner in each of the Tenderness stores, stocked with powdered milk, nappies, and baby food in sterilized jars. What’s more, he began to stock special bento lunches, mildly seasoned with soft textures. These were for younger children, and the elderly as well. So the original impetus for the Tenderness chain’s goal—to become a convenience store that cared for people—came from one customer’s letter. In the wake of this, the chairman began to really look forward to Niseko’s letters.
“Wow. Niseko, huh?” Yoshirō murmured, fiddling with his cup.
So this Niseko person was the reason Yoshirō was making his daily detour to the Mojikō-Koganemura branch. He had no idea what sort of person Niseko was. Shiba had once let slip in passing that Yoshirō and Niseko were about the same age, but other than that, he hadn’t a clue.
Niseko was no older than Yoshirō, but had the power to move an entire convenience store chain. And now, the stubborn master of a coffee shop as well. So Niseko was surely not only a person of common sense, but also one of energy and influence. Who was it? He really hoped they could meet somehow. Yoshirō felt sure Niseko would be able to size him up accurately, help him take stock of his life, and advise him on what was lacking. There was so much he needed, to grow and improve, and Niseko could offer advice to him just as well as to Tenderness.
Or was that all just wishful thinking?
With a wry smile, he stood and took his remaining sandwich pack over to the toaster. After toasting it just as before, he returned to his seat. Downing his warm coffee between bites of sandwich, he gazed out the window.
The sharp early afternoon sunlight heated the asphalt on the street outside. Hot air rose shimmering from the ground, while the cars above spewed exhaust fumes as they passed. There were few pedestrians. A woman passed quickly by, carrying a small parasol that seemed of little comfort in the bright sun. The weather will cool down after the O-bon festival in August, Yoshirō told himself, but even now, with September just around the corner, the hot summer days continued. There were daily reports of people collapsing from heatstroke. People were talking about it all over—The weather’s extreme this year! Well above average. A real heatwave!
But to Yoshirō, the scene seemed no different from the year before. Not the view out the window, the coffee in his hand, the color of his sandwich. And he himself was the same. After his meal, he’d get on the train, go to work, prepare his evening lecture, and talk to middle school students about how to write the perfect short essay, just as he had done many dozens of times before. In the evening he’d grab a perfunctory diner meal for dinner, or head home with whatever was on sale at the supermarket. Today one year ago, he was exactly the same. Would he be here a year from now, too, staring out the window at the same scene? He didn’t like it, but he didn’t know what to do about it, either.
Yoshirō watched as a young man in a tank top dashed into the store. He was wearing a baseball cap and his face underneath was flushed bright red. Then a mini-truck rolled into the car park. He had seen it a few times before—he thought it was probably from some sort of junk collection company. A washing machine and some steel oil drums were loaded in the back. A bearded man climbed out of the driver’s seat. He wore a light green coverall with the sleeves rolled high and the words “Whatever Guy” written in white letters on his back. Whenever he saw it, Yoshirō thought about what a strange name it was for a company. The man glanced up at the blazing sky, then disappeared into Tenderness with an easy stride.