He turned. Shiba was standing nearby, watching him. Yoshirō turned his gaze from the manager’s meaningful smile back to the coffee cup and lifted it carefully to his mouth. At the first sip, a shiver of excitement ran through him. There was a heady aroma, reminiscent of wine, and a burst of fruity acidity. A sudden, delicate flash of bitterness, then the lingering sweetness of the coffee fruit.
“But…this is single-origin coffee, isn’t it?”
The clean, clear taste was unmistakable. Could this really come from Sachika Coffee’s master of the dark roast? It was completely different from any Sachika Coffee that Yoshirō had ever tasted.
He took a sip, tilted his head again, then one more sip, his eyes widening. The coffee he knew from Sachika and the coffee he was tasting now didn’t match up neatly at all.
“He’s got a really bad rap in some parts for selling out the Sachika Coffee name.” Shiba, who had been watching Yoshirō carefully, blurted this out, then frowned. “Some of their more intense fans even picketed the store to protest.”
So it went that far. It was possible, thought Yoshirō. He had wondered about the public reaction himself when he had first heard about the plan. On top of that, fans of Sachiko Coffee’s famously robust flavor might feel disappointed, or even betrayed, by the sharp acidity of the new brew.
“Don’t overthink it, just taste it. It’s amazing! The flavor really suits the sandwiches.”
Before he could blink Tsugi had thrust a toasted sandwich in his direction, his face full of confidence. Yoshirō accepted the sandwich and bit into it cautiously. He chewed slowly and took a sip of the coffee. For a while, he said nothing. Then he cracked a slight smile.
“Ah, there’s something…what is it?”
Although the flavor was different, there was something essential about the coffee that hadn’t changed. The fragrance of the bread and the sweetness of the egg filling came through perfectly, and the presence of the coffee wasn’t diminished in the slightest.
“How…? It’s delicious.”
It was a new flavor. How was this possible?
“Originally, it was the higher-ups at the Tenderness chain who had requested a custom single-origin coffee,” Shiba said. “Apparently, the master at Sachika Coffee thanked them for the request. He said that he was grateful to take on a new challenge at his age, while still doing what he loved, and that if they were going to do it, they should search out a flavor that would be loved by one and all.”
Yoshirō peered at the cup in his hand. The master was already a stooped old man. He had grown weaker, too. The last time Yoshirō visited the shop he had mentioned with a shrug of the shoulders that his hospital visits had been increasing of late. They had persuaded that man to take on a venture like this?
“The average number of customers here at the Tenderness is at least eight hundred per day. Of those, about a hundred and fifty buy coffee. When you consider how many branches altogether there are in the chain, this makes for a vast number of people. Personally, I wondered if it was possible that a single flavor could satisfy all of them. Still, it’s become very popular. It has its critics, but sales have been excellent.”
Yoshirō took a bite of the sandwich and drank his coffee. A feeling that could only be described as passion was building inside him. Even that old man was happy to take on a new challenge. And he got results.
“It’s amazing,” said Shiba. “I hear he’s planning to carry a selection of the best single-origin coffees at his own shop. He’s now on a trip to source the beans. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”
The cup in Yoshirō’s hand was empty. As he looked at it, he found himself starting to despair again. Could he ever have gotten that far in life? Would he ever express in his own work just a small fraction of the artistry that he had just now tasted? Unable to do even that, he had left everything in his life a half-baked mess, but despite that, hadn’t he been hurt enough?
He removed the sketchbook from his bag. Yoshirō gazed at the old volume for a while, then called out to the store manager. Shiba had changed out of his work uniform and was happily munching on some pickled takuan radishes that Satomi had given to Tsugi before they left. In one hand was a can of beer. That was fast.
“Excuse me, Mr. Shiba? And Tsugi, too. My pictures—you really think they’re good?”
“Of course.” Shiba nodded. “I only managed to steal a quick glance now and then from behind you, so my opinion doesn’t count for much, but I would never make such a hurtful joke. I always thought they were good!”
“Oh, Mitsu,” interrupted Tsugi. “There’s one that’s real good. Yoshirō, show him.”
Yoshirō opened his sketchbook as requested. The samurai sketch of Musashi and Kojirō made Shiba instantly happy, just like his brother.
“Wow. The kamishibai that Dad used to talk about must have been just like this, you know?”
“I thought so, too.”
Their faces lit up as they looked at the picture that Yoshirō had made. A smile rose of its own accord on his face. The whole reason he wanted to draw in the first place, he recalled, was to see faces like these. He wanted to draw pictures that would make people really feel something. Maybe it didn’t have to be kids’ comics after all.
“Maybe I should keep on drawing…?”
The quiet remark didn’t elude either of the brothers. Although they didn’t resemble each other at all, a single look passed between them as they said in unison, “Sounds good.”
“Now then, shall we go somewhere for a drink?” asked Shiba. “Kiriyama, I owe you an apology, so it’s my treat.”
“Personally, I could really go for some fugu,” interjected Tsugi.
“I’m talking to Kiriyama. Big Brother, you can pay for yourself.”
Together with the two peculiar brothers, he walked out into the town of Moji at nightfall. A cool sea breeze flowed gently by. As they immersed themselves in the familiar but beautifully illuminated cityscape, Yoshirō laughed out loud for the first time in a long while.
Looking back, he could see the bright lights of Tenderness casting off into the darkness. Their coffee gave him courage, that was certain. If he needed courage in the future, wherever he was, he could always visit Tenderness. Feeling just a little bit happy, he gave a slight bow to the banner fluttering in the wind.