“So how are things?”
Over the course of two years, I’d become a regular at the café next to my train station. I always met Kasumi-san there.
I’d never heard the name of the café before, so I assumed it was independently run and not a franchise. When I first stumbled upon it, I wondered how such a boring place survived in front of a large train station, but apparently their coffee was exceptional—at least according to Kasumi-san. When she took a sip of their house blend, she excitedly declared it delicious. That wasn’t my personal opinion. I didn’t know anything about coffee.
Her brother prepared his coffee at home by freshly grinding the beans, but I still didn’t understand what made the final product any different from the instant coffee I used to drink in my run-down apartment. If anything, I found the instant more pleasant to drink, but I suppose I had my unsophisticated palate to thank for that.
Still, I always ordered the house blend to match Kasumi-san.
“We’re getting on without issue. I mean, after two years, you get used to some things,” I said.
“Hey, that’s great! I mean, he can be so out of touch with the world. I’m shocked you’ve managed to live together for so long.”
“It’s nothing to write home about. Still, I won’t deny he’s out of touch. Outside of me, all his friends are the bougie type. But we have no issues as far as school and daily life.”
That said, his rich boy antics never stopped frustrating me. I didn’t tell Kasumi-san that, though; I thought it best to keep certain things to myself. This was, in a way, a meeting with my boss.
Ever since her brother and I had started living together, Kasumi-san had been summoning me for a monthly situation report under the guise of a meal or coffee. Given that I was freeloading, I didn’t exactly have the option to refuse.
“Have you seen his grades from the first semester?” I asked. “The second has been going about as well, so I suspect he’ll be the top student for another year in a row.”
“I’m not worried about his grades. Tell me about his daily life. He’s the youngest in the family, so we’ve all spoiled him rotten. He’s always had someone to look after him. That’s why I thought he’d struggle alone, but if he’s been at it for two years now, he must be fine. I bet you living with him has helped a lot.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, I’m really glad you’ve been there for him, Sacchan.”
“I’m...glad to be of service.”
I awkwardly brought the coffee to my lips. Neither of the Nishikawa siblings ever grew angry with me, likely because I was their employee. I was pretty good at house chores, but I wasn’t particularly friendly. Despite that, they praised me often.
I enjoyed that part quite a lot. I took these monthly reports seriously—and I had to admit how pathetic that was. I was actually kind of embarrassed.
“Does he still play the piano?” Kasumi-san asked.
“No change there. Whenever he has time, he’s at the piano bench. He keeps up with his monthly lessons, as far as I’m aware.”
“Sorry for pestering you about this every time. Mom and dad will be relieved. We can’t imagine him ever quitting the piano.”
“So, Kadzuki-san’s been playing for a while?”
“Yes, for as long as I can remember. He might have been playing before he spoke his first word.”
“Well, he still plays, don’t worry about that. It must be like breathing for him.”
“He’s always been like that at home too. He cooped himself up in the piano room all the time. It’s like he prefers its company over other people’s. He never really brought his friends home either.”
“That’s strange. He’s usually the center of attention in college.”
“I think you’re special, Sacchan. Remember how he wanted you to listen to him play every day? Just you being there made him happy. We all thought he was like a dog showing his owner his favorite toy.”
Kasumi-san laughed with her fingers lightly covering her mouth. Just like his, her smile was refined yet mischievous.
“I think he invited you home because he enjoyed your company more than playing the piano.”
“Or he wanted to make sure I was actually studying.”
“Well, who can say?”
Eventually, we emptied our cups, and Kasumi-san headed straight for the cash register. After getting her degree, she’d started working in sales for a famous corporation. My income was a fraction of hers.
“Look after him, okay? I’ll be looking forward to your next update,” she said.
“I’m not expecting things to change much going forward.”
“Humor me.”
When she finished paying, we left the café and stepped into the gloomy chill of January together.
“This weather sucks,” I grumbled.
“And it’ll only get colder. He’s never fared well during winter. Keep an eye out on him.”
That was the sort of thing you said about a little kid. Judging by her words and actions, I could easily imagine how the Nishikawa family treated their son.
“Will you make it back in time for work?” Kasumi-san asked.
“Definitely. I should be able to get on the earlier train.”
We headed for the station. She would be returning to the Nishikawa residence, and I would be headed to my other job.
“Sorry, I’ve only asked about Kadzuki. How’ve you been, Sacchan?”
I hated such broad questions.
“I’m all right. I’ve gotten used to the job by now.”
“Well, that’s good. Sorry about the time I went to the restaurant without letting you know first. Kadzuki came crying to me that you wanted to work for someone else, so I was curious.”
“He went crying to you?”
“He said he didn’t want to be home alone all the time. I think we used to spoil him a little too much.”
He and I got into a fight when I started working at a restaurant part-time. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but he did mount a feeble resistance. He mumbled his disappointment as if he were sulking like a kid, but when I told him he didn’t have the right to stop me, his face reminded me of a scolded child’s. In the end, he reluctantly accepted the situation. He could have just told me “No side jobs” and gotten what he wanted, though.
“I think it was Ozaki-san who served us when I first visited? She was great. Say hi to her for me.”
“I will.”
I’d already spent three years by his side. He knew what I would reply in any given situation, and I’d come to understand how to handle him in return.
My days were endlessly peaceful.
It was a peace I would eventually have to say goodbye to.
Nowadays, I worked part-time at a yakiniku restaurant.
I’d been working two days a week for a few months now. It was a budget restaurant within walking distance of several universities. Many of the customers were students, so the streets were pretty rowdy, which meant that brawny guys like me were in high demand. I didn’t have many shifts, but they still kept me on for a few every week.
In other words, it was the sort of place my bourgeois “friend” would ordinarily never set foot in.
“Sacchan, can I order?”
His clear voice caught my attention as I walked by during my shift. When he first patronized the establishment, my boss overheard him and promptly suggested we should put Sacchan on my name tag, which I politely declined.