Tales from the Café

I The Best Friend

Gohtaro Chiba had been lying to his daughter for twenty-two years.

The novelist Fyodor Dostoyevsky once wrote, ‘The most difficult thing in life is to live and not lie.’

People lie for different reasons. Some lies are told in order to present yourself in a more interesting or more favourable light; others are told to deceive people. Lies can hurt, but they can also save your skin. Regardless of why they are told, however, lies most often lead to regret.

Gohtaro’s predicament was of that kind. The lie he had told plagued him. Muttering things to himself, such as ‘I never wanted to lie about it,’ he was walking back and forth outside the cafe that offered its customers the chance to travel back in time.

The cafe was a few minutes’ walk from Jimbocho Station in central Tokyo. Located on a narrow back street in an area of mostly office buildings, it displayed a small sign bearing its name, ‘Funiculi Funicula’. The cafe was at basement level, so without this sign, people would walk by without noticing it.

Descending the stairs, Gohtaro arrived at a door decorated with engravings. Still muttering to himself, he shook his head, swung round and began walking back up the stairs. But then he suddenly stopped with a thoughtful expression on his face. He went back and forth for a while, climbing the stairs and descending them.

‘Why not stew over it after you come in?’ said a voice abruptly.

Turning around, startled, Gohtaro saw a petite woman standing there. Over her white shirt she was wearing a black waistcoat and a sommelier’s apron. He could tell instantly she was the cafe’s waitress.

‘Ah yes, well…’

As Gohtaro began to struggle with his response, the woman slipped past him and briskly descended the stairs.

The ring of a cowbell hung in the air as she entered the cafe. She hadn’t exactly twisted his arm, but Gohtaro descended once again. He felt a weird calmness sweep over him, as if the contents of his heart had been laid bare.

He had been stuck walking back and forth because he had no way of being certain that this cafe was actually the cafe ‘where you could return to the past’. He’d come there believing the story, but if the rumour his old friend had told him was completely made up, he would soon be one very embarrassed customer.

If travelling back to the past was indeed real, he had heard there were some annoying conditions that you had to follow. One was that there was nothing you could do while in the past that would change the present, no matter how hard you tried.

When Gohtaro first heard that, he wondered, If you can’t change anything, why would anyone want to go back?

Yet he was now standing at the front door of the cafe thinking, Even so, I want to go back.

Had the woman read his mind just now? Surely a more conventional thing to say in that situation would be, Would you like to come in? Please feel welcome.

But she had said, Why not stew over it after you come in?

Perhaps she meant: yes, you can return to the past, but why not come inside first before deciding whether to go or not.

The bigger mystery was how the woman could possibly know why he had come. Yet he felt a flicker of hope. The woman’s offhand comment was the trigger for him to make up his mind. He reached out, turned the doorknob, and opened the door.

He stepped into the cafe where, supposedly, you could travel back in time.

Gohtaro Chiba, aged fifty-one, was of stocky build, which was perhaps not unrelated to him having belonged to the rugby club in high school and at university. Even today, he wore an XXL-sized suit.

He lived with his daughter Haruka, who would be twenty-three this year. Struggling as a single parent, he had raised her alone. She had grown up being told, Your mother died of an illness when you were little. Gohtaro ran the Kamiya Diner, a modest eatery in the city of Hachioji in the Greater Tokyo Area. It served meals with rice, soup and side dishes, and Haruka lent a hand.

Entering the cafe through the two-metre-high wooden door, he still had to pass through a small corridor. Straight ahead was the door to the toilet, in the centre of the wall to the right was the entrance to the cafe. As he stepped into the cafe itself, he saw a woman sitting at one of the counter chairs. She instantly called out, ‘Kazu… customer!’

Sitting beside her was a boy who looked about elementary school age. At the far table sat a woman in a white short-sleeved dress. With a pale complexion and a complete lack of interest in the world around her, she was quietly reading a book.

‘The waitress just got back from shopping, so why don’t you take a seat. She’ll be out soon.’

Obviously caring little for formalities with strangers, she spoke to Gohtaro casually, as if he was a familiar face. She appeared to be a regular at the cafe. Rather than replying, he just gave a little nod of thanks. He felt the woman was looking at him with an expression that seemed to say, You can ask me anything you like about this cafe. But he chose to pretend he hadn’t noticed and sat down at the table closest to the entrance. He looked around. There were very large antique wall clocks that stretched from floor to ceiling. A gently rotating fan hung from where two natural wooden beams intersected. The earthen plaster walls were a subdued tan colour, much like kinako, roasted soya flour, with a hazy patina of age – this place looked very old – spread across every surface. The windowless basement, lit only by shaded lamps hanging from the ceiling, was quite dim. The entire lighting was noticeably tainted with a sepia hue.

‘Hello, welcome!’

The woman who had spoken to him on the stairs appeared from the back room and placed a glass of water in front of him.

Her name was Kazu Tokita. Her mid-length hair was tied back, and over her white shirt with black bow tie she wore a black waistcoat and a sommelier’s apron. Kazu was Funiculi Funicula’s waitress. Her face was pretty with thin almond eyes, but there was nothing striking about it that might leave an impression. If you were to close your eyes upon meeting her and try to remember what you saw, nothing would come to mind. She was one of those people who found it easy to blend in with the crowd. This year she would be twenty-nine.

‘Ah… um… Is this the place… that er…’

Gohtaro was completely lost as to how to broach the subject of returning to the past. Kazu calmly looked at him fluster. She turned towards the kitchen and asked, ‘When do you want to return to?’

The sound of coffee gurgling in the siphon came from the kitchen.

That waitress must be a mind-reader…

The faint aroma of coffee beginning to drift through the room sparked his memory of that day.

It was right in front of this cafe that Gohtaro met Shuichi Kamiya for the first time in seven years. The two had been teammates who played rugby together at university.

At the time Gohtaro was homeless and penniless, having been forced to surrender all his assets – he had been the cosigner on a loan obligation for a friend’s company that had gone bankrupt. His clothes were dirty, and he reeked.

Nevertheless, instead of being disgusted by his appearance, Shuichi looked genuinely pleased to have met him again. He invited Gohtaro into the cafe, and after hearing what happened, proposed: ‘Come and work at my diner.’

After graduation Shuichi had been scouted for his rugby talent by a company in a corporate league in Osaka, but he hadn’t played even one year before an injury cut short his career. He then joined a company that ran a restaurant chain. Shuichi, the eternal optimist that he was, saw this setback as a chance, and by working two or three times as hard as everyone else he rose to become an area manager in charge of seven outlets. When he got married, he decided to strike out on his own. He started a small Japanese restaurant and worked there with his wife. Now he told Gohtaro that the restaurant was busy and that some extra help would be welcome.

‘If you accepted my offer, it would be helping me out too.’

Run down by poverty and having lost all hope, Gohtaro broke down in tears of gratitude. He nodded. ‘OK! I’ll do it.’

The chair screeched as Shuichi stood up abruptly. Grinning cheerfully, he added, ‘Oh, and wait till you see my daughter!’

Gohtaro still wasn’t married and he was a little surprised to hear that Shuichi had a child.

‘Daughter?’ he responded with his eyes widening.

‘Yeah! She’s just been born. She is so – cute!’

Shuichi seemed pleased with Gohtaro’s response. He took the bill and strolled over to the cash register. ‘Excuse me, I’d like to pay.’

Standing at the register was a fellow about high-school age. He was very tall, close to two metres in height, and had distant, thin almond eyes.

‘Comes to seven hundred and sixty yen.’

‘Here, from this please.’

Gohtaro and Shuichi were rugby players and bigger than most, but they both looked up at the young fellow, then looked at each other, and laughed, probably because they were thinking the same thing, This guy is built for rugby.

‘And here’s your change.’

Shuichi took the change and headed for the exit.

Before he was homeless, Gohtaro was quite well-off, having inherited his father’s company that made over one hundred million yen a year. Gohtaro was a sincere kind of guy, but money changes people. It put him in a good mood, and he started squandering it. There was a time in his life when he thought that if you had money, you could do anything. But his friend’s company to which he had co-signed as guarantor folded, and after being hit with this huge debt obligation his own company went under too. As soon as his money was gone, everyone around him suddenly started treating him like an outcast. He had thought those close to him were his friends, but they deserted him, one even saying openly to his face, What use are you without money?

But Shuichi was different; he treated Gohtaro, who had lost everything, as important. People willing to help someone struggling, without expecting anything in return, are rare indeed. But Shuichi Kamiya was one such person. As he followed Shuichi out of the cafe, Gohtaro was adamant in his resolve: I’ll repay this favour!

‘That was twenty-two years ago.’

Gohtaro Chiba reached for the glass in front of him. Wetting his parched throat, he sighed. He looked young for fifty-one, but a scattering of grey hairs had begun to show.

‘And so, I started to work for Shuichi. I put my head down and tried to learn the job as fast as I could. But after a year, there was a traffic accident. Shuichi and his wife…’

It had happened more than twenty years ago, but the shock of it had never left him. His eyes reddened and he began choking on his words.

Sluurrrp!

The boy sitting at the counter began noisily sucking the final drops of his orange juice through his straw.

‘And what happened then?’ Kazu asked matter-of-factly, not pausing in her work. She never changed her tone no matter how serious the conversation. That was her stance – her way of keeping herself at a distance from people, perhaps.

‘Shuichi’s daughter survived, and I decided to bring her up.’

Gohtaro spoke with his eyes cast down as if muttering to himself. Then he stood up slowly.

‘I beg of you. Please let me go back to that day twenty-two years ago.’

He bowed long and deep, bringing his hips to a near right angle and dropping his head lower.

This was the cafe Funiculi Funicula. The cafe that became the subject of an urban legend some ten years ago as being the one where you could go back in time. Urban legends are made up, but it was said that at this cafe, you could really return to the past.

All sorts of tales are told about it, even today, like the one about the woman who went back to see the boyfriend she had split up from, or the sister who returned to see her younger sister who had been killed in a car crash, and the wife who travelled to see her husband who had lost his memory.

In order to go back to the past, however, you had to obey some very frustrating rules.

The first rule: the only people who you can meet while in the past are those who have visited the cafe. If the person you want to meet has never visited the cafe, you can return to the past, but you cannot meet them. In other words, if visitors came from far and wide across Japan, it would turn out to be a wasted journey for practically all of them.

The second rule: there is nothing you can do while in the past that will change the present. Hearing this one is a real let-down for most people and normally they leave in disappointment. That is because most customers who want to return to the past are wishing to fix past deeds. Very few customers still want to travel back after they realize they can’t change reality.

The third rule: there is only one seat that allows you to go back in time. But another customer is sitting on it. The only time you can sit there is when the customer goes to the toilet. That customer always goes once a day, but no one can predict when that will be.

The fourth rule: while in the past, you cannot move from your seat. If you do, you will be pulled back to the present by force. That means that while you are in the past, there is no way to leave the cafe.

The fifth rule: your stay in the past begins when the coffee is poured and must end before the coffee gets cold. Moreover, the coffee cannot be poured by just anybody; it must be poured by Kazu Tokita.

Regardless of these frustrating rules, there were customers who heard the legend and came to the cafe asking to go back in time.

Gohtaro was one such person.

‘Let’s say that you do travel back to the past, what are you planning to do?’ asked the woman who had told him to take a seat when he had entered. Her name was Kyoko Kijima. She was a full-time wife and mother, and a regular. It was just coincidence that she was in the cafe then, but she stared at Gohtaro with intense curiosity – perhaps he was the first customer she had met who wanted to return to the past. ‘Forgive me for asking, but how old are you?’

‘I’m fifty-one.’

Gohtaro seemed to have taken the question as a criticism, as in, Why are you, a man of your age, blathering on about going back in time? He sat hunched over the table staring fixedly down at his clasped hands.

‘…I’m sorry. But don’t you think it would be a little freaky? Totally unprepared, Shuichi, or whatever his name is, suddenly finds himself face-to-face with a twenty-two-year-older version of you?’

Gohtaro didn’t lift his head.

Kyoko continued, ‘Don’t you think that would be a bit weird?’

She looked over the counter to Kazu for agreement.

‘Well, maybe,’ Kazu answered, in a manner that suggested she did not fully agree.

‘Hey, Mum, isn’t your coffee going to get cold?’ muttered the boy, who was starting to fidget now his glass of orange juice was empty. His name was Yohsuke Kijima. He was Kyoko’s son, and beginning this spring, he would be in grade four. His hair was mid-length and arranged untidily, he had a sunburnt face and he was wearing a sports strip that read ‘MEITOKU FC’ with the number 9 printed on the back. He was a football nut.

He was talking about the takeaway coffee in the paper bag on the counter beside Kyoko.

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Grandma hates hot drinks anyway,’ Kyoko said as she moved her face up to Yohsuke’s ear and whispered, ‘Just wait a little longer and we’ll go, OK?’

She glanced over at Gohtaro, anticipating a response of some kind.

Gohtaro was sitting up again, looking recomposed.

‘Yeah, I guess it would freak him out,’ he admitted.

‘Uh huh,’ responded Kyoko, nodding knowingly. While listening to this exchange, Kazu handed Yohsuke a new orange juice, which he silently accepted, with a quick nod of thanks.

‘If it is the honest truth that you can go back in time, then there is something I really want to tell Shuichi.’

Though Kyoko had asked him the question, Gohtaro had answered looking at Kazu. His words had no effect on her expression.

Looking as nonchalant as always, she came out from behind the counter and stood in front of him.

Every now and then, a customer like Gohtaro would come to the cafe after hearing the rumour that you could travel back in time, and the way Kazu responded to each of them never changed.

‘Are you familiar with the rules?’ she asked briefly – there were customers who rolled up at the cafe with no idea of them.

‘More or less…’ he replied hesitantly.

‘More or less?’ Kyoko shouted. Of everyone in the cafe right now, she alone was a little excited. Kazu glanced at Kyoko without comment and then looked back at Gohtaro and stared. Answer the question.

Gohtaro shrugged apologetically. ‘You sit in a chair, someone makes you a coffee, and you return to the past… that’s all I’ve heard,’ he replied awkwardly. His nervousness must have left him dry-mouthed as he reached for the glass in front of him.

‘That’s a bit simplistic… Who’d you hear that from?’ Kyoko quizzed him.

‘From Shuichi.’

‘If you heard it from Shuichi… eh? You mean you heard about it twenty-two years ago?’

‘Yes, when we first came to this cafe, I heard it from Shuichi. He must have known of the legend.’

‘I see…’

‘So, even if a much-older version of me were to suddenly appear, apart from giving Shuichi a fright, I think it would be OK,’ he said, returning to Kyoko’s question.

‘What do you think, Kazu?’

Kyoko spoke as if the right to decide for returning to the past belonged to her and Kazu alone. But Kazu did not comment. Instead, she spoke in a cool, stern manner.

‘You know that even if you return to the past, reality won’t change, right?’

What she meant was, You know you can’t stop your friend from dying!

So many customers had come to the cafe hoping to go back and prevent someone from dying. Each time, Kazu explained this rule.

It wasn’t that she was impervious to the grief that people felt from losing someone precious to them. There was just no getting around this rule – no matter who you were, regardless of your reason.

Having heard Kazu’s words, Gohtaro showed no sign of agitation.

‘I am aware of that,’ he replied in an even-tempered, soft voice.

The doorbell rang. A girl. When Kazu saw her, instead of saying, Hello, welcome, she said, ‘Welcome home!’

The girl’s name was Miki Tokita, daughter of the cafe’s owner, Nagare Tokita. She was proudly bearing a bright red randoseru elementary-school backpack.

‘Moi is back, darlings!’ Miki announced in a voice that reverberated loudly throughout the cafe.

‘Hello, Miki darling! Where did you get that wonderful randoseru?’ Kyoko asked.

‘She bought it for moi!’ Miki said smiling broadly, pointing at Kazu.

‘Wow! It looks fantastic!’ complimented Kyoko.

Kyoko looked at Kazu. ‘Doesn’t school start tomorrow?’ she asked in a quiet whisper.

She didn’t mean to criticize Miki’s conduct, nor did she mean to poke fun at her. In fact, it genuinely brought a smile to her face that Miki was so happy to have received a brand-new randoseru that she had been parading around the neighbourhood with it on her back.

‘Yes, it’s tomorrow,’ Kazu said, also pursing the beginnings of a smile in the corners of her lips.

‘How is Madame Kinuyo? Is she well?’ Miki asked, still carrying on the conversation in a voice loud enough to reverberate through the cafe.

‘Mrs Kinuyo is well! We’ve come into the cafe again today to pick her up another coffee and sandwich made by your daddy,’ Kyoko said while holding up the paper bag holding the takeaway beside her. Sitting on the next stool along, Yohsuke kept his back to Miki, and slowly sipped his second glass of orange juice.

‘Isn’t Mrs Kinuyo tired of eating Daddy’s sandwiches yet? That’s all she’s been eating every day.’

‘Mrs Kinuyo says she loves your daddy’s sandwiches and coffee.’

‘I don’t know why. Daddy’s sandwiches are not that tasty,’ remarked Miki, still in a loud voice.

Overhearing the conversation, a towering figure appeared from the kitchen.

‘Hey, hey! Whose sandwiches did you say were yucky?’ It was Nagare, the cafe’s owner and Miki’s father. Miki’s mother Kei was no longer with them. She had a weak heart and passed away after giving birth to Miki six years ago.

‘Oops-a-daisy, well, darlings, I think moi will go now,’ said Miki in her camp way. She bowed her head to Kyoko and scampered off to the back room.

‘Moi…?’

Kyoko looked at Nagare as if to ask, Where did she learn that?

Nagare shrugged. ‘Beats me.’

Giving a sideways glance at Kyoko and Nagare, Yohsuke started poking at Kyoko’s upper arm.

‘Can we go now?’ he asked, sounding like he was fed up with waiting around.

‘Oh, we were about to go, weren’t we,’ Kyoko said, acknowledging that they should get a move on, and got up from the counter stool.

‘Well, it’s time for moi to go too, darlings,’ Kyoko said, mimicking Miki.

She gave the paper bag to Yohsuke and without looking at a bill, she placed the money for the sandwich and coffee and for Yohsuke’s drink on the counter, including the second orange juice that Kazu poured him.

‘The second orange juice is on the house,’ said Kazu as she took the money from the counter minus the price of the second orange juice and started to press the cash register keys loudly.

‘No, no. I’ll pay.’

‘You don’t pay for what you don’t order. I just gave it to him.’

Kyoko didn’t want to pick up the money remaining on the counter, but Kazu had already put the rest in the till and handed Kyoko a receipt.

‘Oh… OK.’

Kyoko wasn’t comfortable not paying for the drink, but she knew there was no way Kazu was going to accept payment.

‘Well, if you say so,’ she said as she picked up the money for one orange juice from the counter. ‘Thank you.’ She returned the money to her purse.

‘Send my regards to Kinuyo sensei,’ said Kazu, politely bowing to Kyoko.

Kinuyo had taught Kazu painting since she was seven. It was Kinuyo who had encouraged her to study to get into a fine arts university. After graduating, Kazu had begun working part-time at Kinuyo’s painting school. Now Kinuyo was hospitalized, Kazu was teaching all the classes.

‘I know you’re busy here too, so thank you so much for taking the art classes again this week.’

‘Of course, not a problem,’ Kazu replied.

‘Thank you for the orange juice,’ Yohsuke said nodding towards Kazu and Nagare, who were both standing behind the counter. Yohsuke left the cafe first.

‘OK, I’ll be off.’

Kyoko waved goodbye and followed Yohsuke out of the door.

When the two left the cafe, so did the lively atmosphere, leaving the room silent. The cafe did not play background music, which meant when no one was talking, you could hear the woman in the white dress turning the pages of her novel.

‘How did they say Kinuyo was getting along?’ Nagare asked Kazu as he stood polishing a glass – his tone no different than if he had been talking to himself. Kazu slowly nodded her head once but she didn’t answer his question.

‘I see,’ Nagare said softly and then disappeared off into the back room.

Left in the cafe were Gohtaro, Kazu and the woman in the white dress.

Kazu was behind the counter tidying up in her usual way.

‘I’d like to hear more now, if it’s all right with you?’

Kazu was ready to listen to Gohtaro’s reason for returning to the past.

He looked up at her for an instant then immediately averted his eyes. He took a slow deep breath.

‘…Actually,’ he began, suggesting that perhaps earlier he had been purposely holding back about his reasons. Maybe because Kyoko was just a bystander, and it was none of her business.

But now, apart from the woman in the white dress, it was just Gohtaro and Kazu. He began explaining hesitantly.

‘My daughter is getting married.’

‘Married?’

‘Yeah, I mean… really, she’s Shuichi’s daughter,’ he mumbled. ‘I want to show my daughter who her real father was.’ He brought out a very slim digital camera from his suit pocket. ‘I thought if I could record a message from Shuichi…’ He sounded lonely and small.

Kazu stared at him in this state. ‘What happens afterwards?’ she asked quietly. She wanted to know what would happen after he revealed that he was not her true father.

Gohtaro felt a jolt in his heart.

This waitress won’t be fooled by lies.

He spoke while staring into space, as if he had prepared his answer. ‘I can only see it being the end of my role,’ he said with quiet resignation.

Gohtaro and Shuichi were in the same rugby team at university, but they had known each other since they began rugby training back in elementary school. They played in different teams, but occasionally they would meet at a match. That isn’t to say they noticed one another right from the start. Through junior high and high school, they were playing for their respective schools, competing in opposing teams in official matches, and so gradually became aware of each other’s existence as a result.

By chance, they entered the same university and became teammates. Gohtaro was a fullback while Shuichi was a fly-half.

The fly-half, identified by the number 10 on his back, is the star player in rugby. He is like the fourth player in the batting order or a pitcher in baseball, or the striker in football. Shuichi was amazing as a fly-half, and he earned the nickname Shuichi the Seer because his plays during matches were like miracles – players even remarked that it was as if he could see into the future.

A rugby team has fifteen players, and there are ten positions. Shuichi took note of the other players’ strengths and shortcomings, and he had a talent for knowing how to utilize or exploit any player in any position. This earned him the absolute trust of the senior players of the university rugby club, and they began to see him as a candidate for team captain early on.

Gohtaro, on the other hand, had tried various positions since he first began playing rugby in elementary school. He was not the type of person who could easily say no to people’s requests, and would often fill in when the team was short of a player. The person who finally decided that fullback was the best position for the versatile Gohtaro was Shuichi. The fullback was the last bastion of defence, and thus very important. If any of the opposition breached his team’s line of defence, his job was stop them with an effective tackle and prevent them scoring a try. Shuichi wanted Gohtaro for fullback because of his superior tackling ability. When he played against Gohtaro in official matches in junior high and high school, he was never once able to slip past him. If the team had Gohtaro’s formidable tackling, there would be absolutely nothing to worry about. It was his steel-wall defence that enabled Shuichi’s daring offensive plays.

When I leave the back to you, I know I’ve got someone I can count on, Shuichi often said before a match.

Then, seven years after they graduated from university, the two met again by chance.

After leaving the cafe, they headed off to Shuichi’s apartment. There to greet them were Yoko and their newborn daughter, Haruka. Shuichi must have contacted Yoko on the way, as she had run a bath for Gohtaro.

Yoko greeted him – still unwashed and reeking – with a warm smile. ‘So you are Gohtaro the Fullback? Shuichi has spoken of you countless times.’

Osaka-born Yoko was even more accommodating than Shuichi. It was quite normal for her to spend every waking hour chatting, and she enjoyed making people laugh with her jokes. She was also quick-thinking and proactive. In less than a day she had found Gohtaro a place to live and clothes to wear.

After losing his company, Gohtaro had lost his ability to trust people, but just two months after starting at Shuichi’s restaurant, he was back to his bright and cheerful self.

When the restaurant was filled with regular customers, Yoko would talk Gohtaro up: ‘Back at university, he was my husband’s most trusted player.’

While he found that embarrassing, it also brought a smile to his face. ‘My next task is to earn the same reputation working here,’ he once added, his newly brightened outlook on the future on display.

Everything seemed to be going well.

One afternoon, Yoko complained of a screaming headache, so it was decided that Shuichi would drive her to the hospital. They didn’t want to close the restaurant, so Gohtaro stayed while minding Haruka. That day, petals from the cherry blossoms were scattering across the cloudless blue sky, silently, like a flurry of snow.

‘Look after Haruka for me,’ Shuichi said, waving thanks while hurrying out.

That was the last time Gohtaro saw him.

Shuichi’s and Yoko’s parents and grandparents were all dead, so at the age of one, Haruka was left all alone in this world.

When he looked at Haruka’s smiling face at Shuichi’s funeral – too young to comprehend that both her parents had died – he decided there and then to raise her himself.

Dong, dong, dong…

A wall clock chimed eight times.

Startled by the sound, Gohtaro looked up. His eyelids were heavy, and his vision was blurry.

‘Where…?’

Looking around, he could see the cafe interior infused with a sepia hue by the shaded lamps. A fan hanging from the ceiling rotated slowly. The pillars and beams were coloured a deep brown. There were three large, and clearly very old, wall clocks.

It took him a while to come to the conclusion that he had been asleep. He was alone in the cafe, apart from the woman in the dress.

He patted both cheeks with his hands to untangle his memory. He remembered that Kazu had told him, ‘We don’t know when the chair that you use to return to the past will be empty.’ Then he must have drifted off to sleep.

It seemed odd to him that he would doze off like that, having just made a decision as momentous as returning to the past. But he also couldn’t help having doubts about the waitress who had left him alone in that state.

Gohtaro stood up and called out to the back room.

‘Hello… is anyone there?’

But there was no reply.

He looked at one of the clocks on the wall to check the time, but then immediately checked his watch. The antique clocks in the cafe were the first strange thing one noticed when visiting. Each one showed a different time.

Apparently, the clocks at either end of the room were broken. One of them was fast, and the other, slow. Multiple attempts had been made to fix them, to no avail.

‘8:12 p.m… .’

Gohtaro looked over at where the woman in the white dress was sitting.

Among the tales of this cafe that he had heard from Shuichi, there was one that had stuck in his mind: A ghost is sitting in the chair that returns you to the past.

The notion was quite preposterous and impossible to believe. That was why it had stuck in his mind.

Oblivious to Gohtaro’s gaze, the woman read her novel with unfaltering concentration.

As he looked at her face, he began to feel a strange sense of recognition, as if he had met her somewhere before.

However, he couldn’t see how that was possible if she truly was a ghost, so he simply shrugged it off.

Flap.

Suddenly, the woman in the dress closed the novel, the sound reverberating throughout the silent cafe. At her unexpected move, Gohtaro’s heart nearly leaped out of his mouth, and he almost slipped off his seat at the counter. If she was just a normal human customer, her movement would probably not have shaken him so, but having been told that she was a ghost… He didn’t believe she was, of course, but the image of ‘ghost = creepy’ couldn’t be easily shaken once it had taken hold.

Momentarily petrified, he felt a cold clamminess spread up his spine. Ignoring Gohtaro’s reaction, the woman rose without a sound. She slipped out of her seat and walked silently towards the entrance, clasping the novel she had been reading as if it was precious to her.

Feeling his heart pounding, Gohtaro watched her pass.

She went through the entrance and disappeared to the right. The only thing in that direction was the toilet.

A ghost who goes to the toilet?

Gohtaro tilted his head as he looked at the woman’s chair. The seat that would take him back in time was vacant.

Tentatively taking one step at a time, he went over, constantly wary that the woman in the dress might suddenly reappear with a diabolical grimace.

Inspecting it up close, he saw it was a simple seat with nothing out of the ordinary about it. The chair had elegantly curved cabriole legs, and its seat and back were upholstered with a pale moss-green fabric. He was certainly no expert in antiques, but he could tell it would be worth a lot of money.

If I were to sit on that chair…

As soon as he placed his hand timidly on it, he heard the sound of scuffling slippers coming from the back room.

He turned and saw a girl wearing pyjamas. If he remembered correctly, she was the cafe owner’s daughter, Miki. She stared at him with her big round eyes – she didn’t seem at all shy about making eye contact with adults she didn’t know. Confronted with her straight stare, Gohtaro was the one who felt uncomfortable with the eye contact.

‘Good… good evening,’ he said in a forced, unnatural voice, as he pulled his hand back from the chair. Miki scuffled towards him.

‘Good evening, monsieur, do you want to return to the past?’ she asked, peering at him with her big eyes.

‘Ah, well, you see…’

Gohtaro was floundering, not sure how to answer that question.

‘Why?’

Miki tilted her head inquisitively, ignoring how flustered he seemed.

He was anxious that the woman in the dress would return while he was talking to Miki.

‘Could you call a member of staff?’ he asked her.

Miki, however, completely ignored his request and instead slipped past him and stood in front of the seat in which the woman in the dress had been sitting.

‘Kaname has gone to the toilet,’ she said, shifting her gaze from the empty seat to Gohtaro.

‘Kaname?’

Miki silently looked at the cafe entrance. Gohtaro followed her gaze and understanding, nodded. ‘And her name’s Kaname?’

But instead of answering, Miki pulled on his hand. ‘Sit down,’ she urged.

In a businesslike fashion, she cleared the woman’s coffee cup and scuffled off in her slippers, disappearing into the kitchen and giving him no chance to protest.

He stared after her in blank amazement.

Is she going to help me go back to the past? he wondered. With an anxious expression, he slipped between the chair and the table in front of him and sat down.

He didn’t know what he had to do to go back, but he felt his heart race at the thought that he was sitting in the chair.

After a while, Miki returned carrying a silver kettle and white coffee cup, clattering on a tray she held with both hands.

She stood next to Gohtaro.

‘Now moi will pour you the coffee,’ she said as the tray wobbled.

Can you really do this? Gohtaro almost asked, but he held it in.

‘Um… er,’ he replied with a very anxious expression.

Miki didn’t see the look on his face as she had fixed her big excited eyes on the cup on the tray. She continued with her explanation.

‘In order to go back to the past…’

At that moment, Nagare, wearing a T-shirt, appeared from the back room.

‘Heavens above, Miki, what do you think you’re doing?’ he said with an exasperated sigh. More than angry, his tone conveyed something more along the lines of, Oh no, not again.

‘Moi is serving monsieur his coffee.’

‘There is no way you can do that yet. And stop calling yourself moi.’

‘Moi shall serve it.’

‘Stop it. Now!’

While still holding the wobbling and rattling tray precariously, little Miki blew her cheeks out and looked up at giant Nagare.

Nagare’s thin almond eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth dropped into a frown as he looked down at Miki.

It felt like a standoff between the two, as if whoever spoke next would lose.

Kazu, who had appeared without anyone noticing, walked out from behind Nagare and knelt down in front of Miki.

‘Moi…’

As Kazu looked her straight in her eyes at her level, Miki’s big eyes gradually transformed from angry to teary. In that moment Miki seemed to realize she had lost.

Kazu smiled warmly at her.

‘Your time will come,’ she said as she quietly took the tray.

Miki looked up at Nagare, teary eyed. ‘Uh-huh,’ he simply said, and gently held out his hand. His face looked far less stern now.

‘As you wish,’ said Miki as she took hold of the hand stretched out to her and drew to his side. The defiant expression she had worn until just moments ago had dissipated. When Miki got annoyed and upset like this, she could quickly switch her mood, rather than letting it drag on. Observing her transformation, Nagare thought how like her mother she was, with a melancholic smile.

Based on how Kazu treated Miki, Gohtaro deduced, This waitress is not the girl’s mother. He could also sympathize with how Nagare was struggling to handle a girl of this age – having had, after all, his own experience of raising his daughter Haruka as a single father.

‘Let’s go through the rules,’ Kazu said softly next to Gohtaro, who was still sitting in the right seat.

The cafe was silent as always. Gohtaro had heard the rules from Shuichi some twenty-two years ago, but he could barely remember them now.

What he did remember was: that you go back in time, that reality won’t change, no matter what you do, and that there was a ghost sitting on the chair. He was unclear on any other details. That Kazu was going to explain them to him was therefore welcome news.

‘The first rule is that even though you can return to the past, you can only meet people who have visited this cafe.’

This rule didn’t surprise him. It had been Shuichi who had invited him to the cafe. There was no doubt that he had been there.

As Gohtaro’s face showed no sign of worry, Kazu briskly continued. She told him that when he went back he would not be able to change reality, no matter how hard he tried; that the only way to return to the past was by sitting where he sat; that he could not get up from the seat because if he did, he would be forcibly brought back to the present.

The bit about leaving the seat had been met with an ‘Oh really?’ from Gohtaro. But the rules were mostly as he had expected, and nothing drained the colour from his face.

‘OK, I understand,’ he said.

‘Please wait while I remake the coffee,’ Kazu instructed him when she had finished her explanation, and went into the kitchen.

She left him sitting there, with Nagare standing in front of him.

‘Excuse my nosiness, but she is not your wife, is she?’ he asked Nagare.

It wasn’t as if he really needed to know the answer; it was more an attempt to make conversation.

‘Her? No, she’s my cousin,’ Nagare replied, looking down at Miki.

‘Miki’s mum… Well, when she gave birth to her…’

Nagare didn’t continue – not because he was choked with emotion, but simply because he thought he had already conveyed the message.

‘I see…’ said Gohtaro, and stopped asking questions. He looked at Nagare with his thin eyes, and then at Miki with her round eyes, and concluded that she must take after her mother. Caught up in that thought, he waited for Kazu.

Kazu soon returned. On the tray she was carrying were the same silver kettle and white coffee cup she had taken back into the kitchen. The aroma of the coffee, freshly made, drifted throughout the cafe and seemed to penetrate Gohtaro’s chest deeply.

Kazu stood beside the table where Gohtaro was seated and continued the explanation.

‘I will now serve you the coffee,’ she said as she placed the white cup in front of him.

‘OK.’

Gohtaro looked down at the blemish-free cup and was transfixed by its pure almost translucent whiteness. Kazu continued.

‘The time you have in the past will only be from when I pour you the coffee until the coffee has gone cold.’

‘OK.’

Perhaps because Gohtaro had been told the rules by Shuichi, the news that he could only return to the past for such a short period did not seem to surprise him.

Kazu gave a small nod.

‘That means that you must drink the coffee before it gets cold. If you don’t drink it then…’ she continued.

She now had to explain, You will become a ghost and go on sitting in this seat. It was this rule that made returning to the past extremely risky. Compared to the great risk of becoming a ghost, not being able to meet who you wanted to meet, or not being able to change reality, were trifling inconveniences.

Yet, if Kazu was careless with her explanation, her words could be misconstrued as just a joke. To ensure she gave these words the gravitas they needed, she paused before she went on.

‘You turn into a spook, right?’ Gohtaro interrupted with those insane-sounding words.

‘Huh?’ asked Nagare, who was listening from a distance.

‘A spook,’ repeated Gohtaro without hesitation.

‘When Shuichi told me the rules, that one was so crazy… er, excuse me… it was so difficult to believe, I remembered it clearly.’

From past experience, when a customer had not followed this rule, the damage was severe, and rather than thinking of the customer who became a ghost, Nagare was thinking about the people who get left behind. If it happened to Gohtaro, it would be a devastating shock to his daughter Haruka.

Yet for some reason, Gohtaro did not seem to acknowledge the seriousness of it, and throwing around words like spook suggested he wasn’t taking it seriously. But Gohtaro’s eyes looked serious, so rather than simply telling him that was wrong, Nagare’s answer was vaguer.

‘Er… nah…’ he struggled to reply.

But Kazu’s answer was plain.

‘That’s right,’ she confirmed coolly.

‘Eh?’ uttered Nagare in surprise at her answer. His almond-shaped eyes opened wide, and his mouth dropped open. Miki standing next to him, who probably didn’t know what a spook was, looked up at Nagare, her round eyes goggling.

Kazu, however – unbothered by Nagare’s agitation – continued to explain the rules.

‘You must not forget. If you do not finish drinking the coffee before it goes cold, it will be your turn to be the spook for ever stuck sitting here.’

It was true to Kazu’s relaxed and generous nature to use Gohtaro’s word spook, but she probably just went with the term because it was easier to do so. At any rate, it was clear what she meant: whether you called it a spook or a ghost, it was the same thing.

‘So, the woman who has been sitting on the chair up until now?’ Gohtaro asked, hinting, She didn’t return from the past, then?

‘…Yes,’ Kazu confirmed.

‘I wonder why she didn’t finish her coffee?’ Gohtaro asked. He asked purely out of interest. But his question turned Kazu’s face into a Noh mask, and for the first time he found her expression unreadable.

I’ve asked something I was not meant to ask, Gohtaro thought, but Kazu wore this expression only for a moment and continued.

‘She went back to meet her husband who had died, but she must have lost track of time and only realized when the coffee had already gone cold,’ she stated with an expression that implied that there was no need for her to say what happened next.

‘Oh, I see,’ Gohtaro replied with a rather sympathetic expression. He looked over to the entrance through which the woman in the dress had disappeared.

He asked no more questions, so Kazu asked, ‘Shall I serve?’

‘Yes please,’ he answered with a sigh.

Kazu took the silver kettle that was still on the tray. Gohtaro knew nothing about tableware, but he could see at a glance that this sparkling silver kettle would be worth a substantial sum. Kazu announced, ‘Then I shall begin.’

As she uttered these words, Gohtaro felt that her aura had changed.

The temperature in the cafe seemed to suddenly drop by a degree and you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Kazu lifted the silver kettle up a little higher and uttered the words, ‘Drink the coffee before it goes cold,’ and then slowly began lowering the spout towards the cup. She moved with an impenetrable beauty, as if she was performing a solemn ritual.

When the spout was just a few centimetres from the cup, a threadlike column of black coffee appeared. It was soundless, and it didn’t appear to be moving; only the surface of the liquid in the cup rose. The coffee that filled the vessel resembled a pitch-black shadow.

Transfixed by this beautiful sequence of movements, Gohtaro saw a plume of steam rise from the cup.

As he watched the steam, a strange sensation, much like dizziness, enveloped him, and everything surrounding the table began to ripple and shimmer.

Worried that another wave of sleepiness was coming on, he tried to rub his eyes.

‘Argh…’ he exclaimed unintentionally.

His hands, his body, were becoming one with the steam from the coffee. It had not been his surroundings that were rippling and shimmering; it had been him. Suddenly, his surroundings began to move so that everything above him was falling past him with amazing speed.

Experiencing all this, he screamed out, ‘Stop… stop!’

He was no good with scary rides – the mere sight of them was enough to make him swoon – but unfortunately for him, his surroundings seemed to be going past him faster and faster, as time wound back twenty-two years.

He felt increasingly giddy. When he realized that he was now returning to the past, his consciousness gradually receded.

After Shuichi and his wife died, Gohtaro ran the restaurant alone while bringing up Haruka. Even while Shuichi was still alive, multitalented and diligent Gohtaro had worked out how to manage the restaurant single-handedly, from the cooking to the accounting.

But Gohtaro, a bachelor, found that raising a small child was unimaginably difficult. Haruka had just turned one – which meant she was now taking her first tentative steps – and someone needed to be watching her all the time. She would also often cry at night, which deprived him of sleep. When she entered nursery, he thought that life would become easier, but she became anxious around strangers and hated going. Every day she would burst into tears when it was time to leave.

When she was in elementary school, she would often announce she was going to help in the restaurant but only ended up being a nuisance. It was difficult to know by the words she used exactly what she meant, and if he didn’t always listen to what she had to say she would sulk. If she got a fever, he had to take her to the doctor. And of course, children have a social calendar too, including birthdays, Christmas, Valentine’s Day and so on. On holiday, it bothered him when she asked to be taken to a funfair, or say she wanted this and that.

In junior high, she entered her rebellious phase, which only grew worse with age. Once in high school, he received a phone call from the police after she had been caught shoplifting.

Adolescent Haruka got herself into all kinds of mischief, but however tense the circumstances, Gohtaro never once wavered in his resolve to provide a happy upbringing for her, who had been left alone in this world.

It was just three months earlier that she had brought home a man called Satoshi Obi and announced they were dating with the possibility that it might lead to marriage.

On his third visit, Satoshi asked Gohtaro, ‘Please give me your blessing to marry Haruka.’

‘You have my blessing,’ he replied simply.

All he wanted was for her to be happy; he would not stand in the way of that.

After graduating from high school, Haruka became much more reasonable. She decided to go to culinary school to become a chef and that is where she met Obi. After finishing culinary school, Obi found a job in a hotel in Tokyo’s Ikebukuro district and Haruka started helping at Gohtaro’s restaurant.

After Haruka’s wedding was announced, Gohtaro started to feel terrible guilt for lying to her.

For twenty-two years he had raised her, telling her that she was his real daughter. In order to hide from her the truth that she had no living blood relatives, he had never shown her the contents of the family register. But now she was to marry, everything was different. When she went to the registry office to file her marriage, she would discover that she was orphaned, revealing the lie that Gohtaro had maintained all these years.

After agonizing over it, he finally decided to tell her the truth before the wedding. Then he would say that the real father is meant to be there at the wedding ceremony.

The truth will probably hurt her, but it can’t be helped.

Although there was nothing that could be done now.

‘Ah, excuse me… Sir?’

Gohtaro awoke feeling his shoulder being shaken. A large-framed man stood in front of him. He was wearing jet-black school trousers and a dark brown apron over a white shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows. Gohtaro recognized the giant as the cafe’s owner Nagare. But it was a much younger Nagare.

The memory of that day started emerging from the recesses of Gohtaro’s brain.

He was certain that this young version of the owner, Nagare, had been there twenty-two years ago.

The rest of the cafe, however – the slowly spinning ceiling fan, the dark brown columns and beams and tan-coloured walls and the three clocks on the wall each showing a different time – was unchanged. Even twenty-two years in the past, the cafe had its sepia hue, the result of the only light being given by the shaded lamps. If the young Nagare had not been standing before him, he would not have noticed that he had gone back.

However, the more he looked around the cafe, the faster his heart beat.

He’s not here.

If he had gone back to the right day, Shuichi should have been there, but he wasn’t.

He thought back to the various rules he had been told and realized he had never been told how to return to the right day. What’s more, his time in the past was only the short period before his coffee went cold. He might have arrived before they arrived, or they may have already left the cafe.

‘Shuichi!’ Gohtaro called and without thinking began to stand up. But before he did, he felt Nagare’s big hand on his shoulder keep him in his chair.

‘He’s in the toilet,’ he muttered.

Gohtaro was fifty-one years old and a large stocky man, but Nagare placed a hand lightly on his shoulder as if was petting the head of a child.

‘The guy you came to meet is in the toilet. He’ll come back soon, so rather than getting up like that, you’d be better off waiting.’

Gohtaro became a little calmer. According to the rules, standing up from the chair instantly took you back to the present; if not for Nagare, he would most probably be there now.

‘Ah, thank you.’

‘No problem,’ replied Nagare in rather a clinical manner, and walked away to stand behind the counter with his arms folded. Standing there, he looked less like a waiter and more like a sentry guarding a castle.

No one else was in the cafe.

But there were people in the cafe. On that day twenty-two years ago, there had been a couple sitting at the table closest to the entrance and one person at the counter.

And where Gohtaro was sitting now, in the seat that returns you to the past, there had been a near-elderly gentleman wearing a tuxedo and boasting a well-groomed moustache.

The gentleman’s look had seemed very old-fashioned. Gohtaro clearly remembered him because he had thought, That guy looks like he has time-travelled from the 1920s.

However, the three other customers had left quickly, perhaps because they could not bear Gohtaro’s filthy state or his odd stench.

Then he remembered. As soon as they had entered, Shuichi had enthusiastically declared that this was a mysterious cafe where it was possible to go back in time. Then, after listening to his account of what had happened to him, he had gone to the toilet.

Gohtaro wiped sweat from his brow with his palm and drew a deep breath in through his nose. Then, from the back room, a girl of elementary-school age appeared with a brand-new randoseru backpack.

‘Come on, Mum, hurry!’ the girl yelled as she skipped and pranced around the cafe.

‘I bet you’re happy now, huh?’ said young Nagare to the girl circling around in the centre of the cafe, his arms still folded.

‘Yeah,’ replied the girl with a happy smiling face and she scampered out of the cafe.

Gohtaro had some memory of this happening. At the time, he had not paid much attention, but he was pretty sure a woman who seemed to be the girl’s mother would soon emerge and he turned and looked towards the back room.

‘Stop, wait for me, please!’

A woman appeared. She had beautiful jet-black hair and a complexion so pale it was almost translucent. Probably in her late twenties, she was wearing a pale peach tunic and a beige frilly skirt.

‘Oh, what to do with that child. The new students’ welcoming ceremony is not even until tomorrow,’ she mumbled, throwing her hands up though not quite in dismay. Her expression revealed joy more than anything as she let out a sigh.

Upon seeing the woman’s face, Gohtaro felt startled.

Could it be?

He had seen her face before. She totally resembled the woman in the white dress who had been sitting in this very chair reading a novel before he came to the past.

Perhaps they were two different people who just happened to look alike. Human memory is a vague thing, after all. It was someone that he had just been looking at, but his head was confused.

‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ asked young Nagare to the woman as he unfolded his arms and squinted. His expression was difficult to read but his tone of voice revealed that he was concerned for her.

‘Of course, I’ll be fine. We’re just going out to look at the cherry blossom in the neighbourhood,’ she said reassuringly with a smile and a nod.

Based on the conversation, one would think the woman was in poor health, but from what Gohtaro could see, she didn’t appear to be in any discomfort. Having brought up Haruka as a single father, Gohtaro knew all too well about making sacrifices if it would bring a child joy.

‘So, thanks for taking care of the cafe, Nagare, it really helps,’ said the woman as she moved towards the entrance. She turned to look around one last time, nodded to Gohtaro and left.

As if switching places with the woman, Shuichi Kamiya came back from the toilet.

Uh…

All thoughts about the woman vanished from Gohtaro’s head the moment Shuichi appeared. The memory of his original mission flooded back.

Shuichi looked like the young man he remembered. Or in other words, he must have looked startlingly old to Shuichi.

‘What?’

The Gohtaro that Shuichi had just been talking with had suddenly aged while he was in the toilet. He stared at Gohtaro with a baffled expression.

‘Shuichi.’

As Gohtaro spoke, Shuichi held both hands up.

‘Wait, wait, wait!’ he said, cutting him short. Staring at Gohtaro with hostility, he seemed to freeze like a figure in stop motion.

This doesn’t look good…

Gohtaro had thought Shuichi would surely grasp the situation immediately if suddenly he appeared as his older self – after all, it was Shuichi who told him you could travel back in time in this cafe.

He had grounds for his faith in Shuichi, too.

Perception had always been Shuichi’s strong point. When it came to observational skills, an ability to analyse things, and his sense of judgement, Shuichi demonstrated above-average talent. On many occasions Gohtaro had witnessed this being put to good use in Shuichi’s seamless plays on the rugby field. Shuichi studied an opponent’s character and habits before the match and stored it all in his head. As playmaker, he executed tries perfectly while making fools of the opposing players. No matter how intimidating the situation, he never erred in his analysis or judgement.

Yet it seemed the current circumstances were too impossibly weird and hard to believe, even for him.

While placing both hands around the cup to check its temperature, Gohtaro spoke.

‘Shuichi, the truth is…’

He was going to explain the current situation, but the cup was cooling faster than he had anticipated. There was simply not enough time to explain things in enough detail to clear everything up. Beads of sweat once again began to gather on his brow.

What can I tell him?

He was in a pickle. If he explained everything, the coffee would certainly go cold. If Shuichi didn’t believe that he had come from the future, it all would have been for nothing.

Can I explain it well enough? No, I don’t think I can.

Gohtaro knew he was pretty lousy at explanations. Perhaps if he had lots of time, but he had no idea how long he had left before the coffee cooled. Shuichi was still eyeing him suspiciously – probingly, even, as if his gaze was burning deep into Gohtaro’s heart.

‘I don’t expect you to believe me however much I try to explain, but…’ Gohtaro began spitting out words, knowing that he had to say something.

‘You’ve come from the future, haven’t you?’ Shuichi spoke to him very carefully as if he was a stranger who didn’t understand the local tongue.

‘Yes!’ Gohtaro replied loudly, instantly excited by Shuichi’s excellent perceptiveness.

Shuichi rubbed his head with his fist, mumbled incoherently and continued his questions.

‘From how many years?’

‘Huh?’

‘From how many years in the future did you come?

Open to the possibility but sceptical at the same time, Shuichi started gathering information. This is exactly what he used to do before a rugby game – put together the necessary information, piece by piece.

He hasn’t changed.

Confronted by Shuichi’s questions, Gohtaro decided to answer them. That would be the fastest way to gain his understanding.

‘Twenty-two years.’

‘Twenty-two years?’

Shuichi’s eyes widened. Gohtaro had never seen him look so surprised, even when he had spotted him living in rags on the street.

Although Shuichi had told Gohtaro about the rumour surrounding this cafe, he never expected to find himself face to face with someone from the future. Also, considering Gohtaro had somehow aged twenty-two years while he was in the toilet, it was little wonder he was surprised.

‘You certainly have aged,’ mumbled Shuichi, his expression softening a little. It was a sign that he was letting his defences down.

‘I guess I have,’ replied Gohtaro a little self-consciously.

Here he was, a middle-aged man of fifty-one, acting like a shy child in front of this twenty-nine-year-old. For Gohtaro, he was once again meeting his guardian angel, who had helped him get his life back.

‘But you look fit and well, yeah?’ said Shuichi, whose eyes were bright red. ‘Hey… what’s up?’

Gohtaro almost got up from his seat, surprised by the look on Shuichi’s face. He had imagined that Shuichi would be shocked suddenly to see him old like this, but he hadn’t expected a reaction like this.

Shuichi moved closer and keeping his eyes locked on Gohtaro’s he sat down opposite him.

‘Shuichi?’

The pit-a-pat of tears falling could be heard.

Apprehensively and hesitatingly, Gohtaro began to speak, when Shuichi said with a trembling voice, ‘Dapper suit you’re wearing…’

Again, the pit-a-pat continued.

‘Looks good on you.’

Gohtaro had appeared there in front of Shuichi, the future form of the close friend whose life he was about to turn round. The Gohtaro he had just encountered on the street outside was ragged and forlorn. This was why Shuichi was now experiencing a deep heartfelt joy at the sight of Gohtaro before him.

‘Twenty-two years? I bet there were some tough times along the way?’

‘Not really, it’s flashed by pretty fast…’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah…’

Shuichi, his eyes still red, beamed a broad smile.

‘Thanks to you,’ Gohtaro said softly to this smiling face.

‘I see, ha.’ Shuichi laughed with embarrassment and pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket and blew his nose. But the pit-a-pat of tears falling on the table continued.

‘So, what is it?’

Shuichi stared questioningly at Gohtaro as if to ask, Why did you come? He didn’t mean it to sound like he was interrogating him. But he knew this cafe’s rules, particularly the limit on their time for reunion. He also couldn’t imagine Gohtaro coming to see him without reason. So rather than wallowing in sentimentality, Shuichi felt he had no choice but to get straight to the point.

Gohtaro, however, wasn’t immediately forthcoming with an answer.

‘Are you OK?’ Shuichi asked in the same tone one might use to address a crying child.

‘To be honest…’

As he slowly reached out to check the coffee’s temperature, he tentatively began to explain.

‘Haruka has decided to get married.’

‘…uh?’

It must have been a shock even for ever-sharp Shuichi to hear this from Gohtaro. The smile instantly vanished from his face. Perfectly understandable. For Shuichi back in this time, Haruka was just a newborn.

‘What… what? What does that mean?’

‘Er, don’t worry, everything’s OK,’ said Gohtaro in a relaxed tone. He had imagined Shuichi might get agitated during the conversation.

He brought the coffee to his lips and took a sip. He wasn’t sure what temperature counted as cold, but it was still clearly warmer than skin temperature.

It should still be fine.

He returned the cup to the saucer. He told the story he had prepared beforehand. He did his best to avoid anything that might cause Shuichi to get upset. Most importantly, he had to make sure he didn’t say anything that would lead ever-astute Shuichi to suspect that he had died.

‘Actually, the future-you asked me to go back in time to get you to give a speech at Haruka’s wedding.’

‘I wanted to get me?’

‘Yeah, like a surprise.’

‘Surprise?…’

‘Future Shuichi and past Shuichi can’t meet, you see…’

‘And so, you came?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ continued Gohtaro, growing increasingly impressed with Shuichi’s perceptiveness.

‘OK, I think I get the idea…’

‘So, what do you say? It’s pretty out there, don’t you think?’

‘For sure, it’s very strange.’

‘Yeah, isn’t it just.’ Gohtaro pulled out a newly bought ultra-slim digital video camera, nothing like what had existed twenty-two years earlier.

‘And that is?’

‘It’s a camera.’

‘That tiny thing?’

‘Yeah. It records video too.’

‘Video too?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Awesome.’

Shuichi was looking hard into Gohtaro’s face as he searched for the on button of the camera he was still not used to.

‘It looks like you just bought it.’

‘Huh? Er, yeah, that’s right.’ Gohtaro answered Shuichi’s question without much thought.

‘You’ve still got to work on your end game, you know,’ Shuichi muttered with a serious face.

‘Yeah, sorry, I should have worked out how to use the darn thing before coming,’ Gohtaro replied, his ears blushing.

‘I’m not talking about the camera,’ said Shuichi, maintaining his stern tone.

‘Huh?’

‘Oh, never mind.’

Shuichi reached out and put his hand on the cup. Familiar with this cafe’s rules, he must have been worried about how much time was left.

‘Right, let’s do it!’ he exclaimed. He stood up with a burst of enthusiasm and spun around so that his back was to Gohtaro.

‘We’ve just got a single shot at this, right?’ he asked.

Based on the temperature of the coffee, Gohtaro didn’t think there would be time to reshoot either.

‘Yes. This will be great,’ he replied. ‘OK then, I’m taking it.’ He pressed the record button.

‘You know… you’ve always been a terrible liar,’ Shuichi muttered.

His words must not have reached Gohtaro, as he didn’t seem to react. He simply continued to point the camera at Shuichi.

‘To Haruka, twenty-two years from now. Congratulations on getting married.’ Then he grabbed the camera and quickly stepped away from Gohtaro’s reach.

‘Hey!’ Gohtaro yelped and stretched out his hand to get it back.

‘Don’t move!’ Shuichi said.

Gohtaro didn’t. Hearing Shuichi’s strong tone sent a chill down his spine. If that warning had come a split second later, he would have leaped up from his seat. Luckily he remembered just in time. If he had stood up, he would have been returned to the present immediately.

‘What did you do that for?’ he asked.

His voice echoed loudly in the room, but luckily they were the only two customers. Aside from them, it was just Nagare behind the counter, and he didn’t seem to care about the to-and-fro between them. He stood motionless with his arms crossed, showing not a hint of surprise.

Shuichi let out a deep breath, turned the camera to himself and started talking.

‘Haruka. Congrats on getting married.’

Gohtaro still was unclear on Shuichi’s motives for taking the camera, but when he saw that he was going ahead and recording a message, he was relieved.

‘On the day you were born, the sakura were in full bloom… I still remember when I first held you in my arms, how bright red you were, such a tiny thing all curled up.’

Thanking his lucky stars that Shuichi was cooperating, Gohtaro reached out and took the coffee cup, intending to return to the present immediately after Shuichi’s message was finished.

‘It brought me so much happiness just looking at your smiling face. Watching you as you slept gave me all the motivation I needed. Being blessed by your birth is the greatest joy in my life. You are more precious to me than anyone in the world. If it is for you, I can do anything…’

Everything was going to plan. He just needed to get the camera back and return to the present.

‘I wish you have a happy life for as long…’ Shuichi’s voice suddenly started to crack with emotion. ‘For as long as you live.’

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

‘Shuichi?’

‘Can we cut the charade?’

‘What?’

‘Stop lying to me, Gohtaro!’

‘Lying? What do you mean?’

Shuichi looked up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. His eyes were as red as they could get.

‘Shuichi?’

Shuichi was biting the back of his hand. He seemed to be trying to stifle his emotions with pain.

‘Shuichi!’

‘I…’

Pit-a-pat.

‘Won’t be attending…’

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

With gnashing of teeth, his words came out bit by bit.

‘Haruka’s wedding, will I?’

‘What do you mean? I said that it was your idea, didn’t I?’ Gohtaro urgently spun words together.

‘You didn’t seriously expect me to be fooled by such lies, did you?’ Shuichi retorted.

‘They’re not lies!’

Upon hearing this, he turned and looked at Gohtaro with his bright red eyes.

‘If you’re telling the truth, why have you been continually crying all this time?’

‘Huh?’

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

What? I think I’d notice if I was crying, thought Gohtaro, but it was as Shuichi had said. Huge teardrops were falling from his eyes, and their splashes were making a pit-a-pat sound that reverberated around the cafe.

‘Oh, that’s strange. When did I start doing that?’

‘You didn’t notice? You’ve been crying the whole time.’

‘The whole time?’

‘Ever since I came out from the toilet, you’ve been crying.’

Gohtaro looked down to see that a puddle of his tears had formed on the table.

‘Th-these are ju-just…’

‘And that’s not all, either.’

‘Huh?’

‘The way you announced, “Haruka’s getting married” like that. You spoke of her like a father would of his own daughter. I can’t help thinking, you’ve been raising Haruka like a daughter in place of me!’

‘Shuichi…’

‘Which means…’

‘No, you’ve got it wrong.’

‘Come on, give it to me straight.’

‘…’

‘So, I’m…’

‘No… Shuichi, wait…’

‘…I’m dead, then?’

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

Instead of answering, Gohtaro’s flow of tears surged.

‘That’s heavy,’ muttered Shuichi.

Gohtaro was exaggeratedly shaking his head as a child might, but he couldn’t deceive him any longer. Against his will, tears streamed down his face.

His shoulders shuddered as he held back his sobs. To hide his tears he bit down hard on his lip and bowed his head.

Shuichi walked around the room and slumped down into the seat closest to the entrance.

‘When?’

Shuichi was asking when he would die.

Gohtaro wanted just to down the coffee and return to the present, but with his fists firmly clenched on his knees, he was frozen stiff, unable even to twitch.

‘No more lies… OK?… Give it to me straight,’ pleaded Shuichi looking Gohtaro in the eyes.

Gohtaro looked away and brought his hands together as if praying. He let out a heavy sigh.

‘In a year…’

‘…I’ve just got one year?’

‘It was a car crash.’

‘Oh god, really?

‘You were with Yoko…’

‘Oh god, no. Yoko too?’

‘So, I brought her up. I raised… Haruka.’

Gohtaro struggled with how to say Haruka’s name without sounding like her father, and Shuichi clearly noticed.

‘I see…’ he muttered with a weak smile.

‘But I plan on bringing it to an end… today,’ said Gohtaro with his voice trailing off.

Gohtaro had never been able to get rid of the thought that the father–daughter relationship that he had built with Haruka over the past twenty-two years had been gained through Shuichi’s death. Nevertheless, that spending his days with Haruka brought him happiness was beyond question.

But the happier he felt, the stronger his suspicion that with Shuichi left by the wayside, that happiness was not his to grab…

If he had been able to tell Haruka that he was not her real father earlier, perhaps the relationship built between the two of them would be different. But there was no point imagining what might have been.

Haruka’s wedding day would soon arrive. Putting it off until he would be revealed by the family register had only intensified his feelings of guilt.

I have lived my life unable to tell the truth for risk of losing my own happiness.

That was a betrayal of Shuichi, his guardian angel, and of Haruka.

I’m so pathetic, I don’t deserve to attend something as special as Haruka’s wedding.

And so he had planned to remove himself from Haruka’s life after revealing the truth.

Still holding the camera, Shuichi slowly rose. He came to stand beside Gohtaro, who remained slumped. He pointed the camera so that both men were in the shot and he put his arm around Gohtaro’s shoulder.

‘You’re not planning on going to the wedding, are you?’ asked Shuichi, shaking Gohtaro’s shoulder.

Shuichi had seen through everything.

‘No, I’m not,’ answered Gohtaro, still hunched over. ‘Even though Haruka’s father is Shuichi… is you… I could never tell her about you, her real father. You were the one who helped me… and I know I shouldn’t have… but I thought that if Haruka was my real… daughter, then…’ Gohtaro continued stumbling over his words. ‘And I ended up contemplating what should have been unthinkable.’

He brought both hands up to cover his face as he started bawling uncontrollably.

It had been his endless suffering.

By thinking, What if Haruka was really my own daughter, it was as if Shuichi had never existed. Gohtaro, whose feelings of indebtedness to him were insurmountable, despised himself for having thought such a thing.

‘OK, I get it now… and it’s just like you to do this to yourself… you’ve been suffering inside your head the entire time, haven’t you?’

Shuichi sniffed deeply through his runny nose.

‘OK, fine… let’s finish it today,’ he continued, tugging at Gohtaro’s earlobe.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’ repeated Gohtaro, as tears fell through the crack between his hands still covering his face, and landed pit-a-pat on the table.

‘Right!’ said Shuichi as he pointed the camera to himself.

‘Haruka, listen! I have a proposition for you,’ he announced. His booming voice reverberated confidently through the cafe.

‘Starting from today,’ he began, pulling Gohtaro in close by the shoulder, ‘your father shall be both me and Gohtaro. Does that sound OK?’ he proposed straight into the camera.

Gohtaro’s shoulder stopped shaking with sobs. Shuichi didn’t pause.

‘Starting from today, you get an extra dad. That’s quite a bargain. What do you say?’

Gohtaro slowly lifted his teary face.

‘Hang on, what are you saying?’ he muttered in confusion.

Shuichi turned to Gohtaro.

‘You deserve to be happy!’ he quipped with utter conviction. ‘You can damn well stop tormenting yourself by thinking about me,’ he urged.

Gohtaro remembered.

Shuichi had always been like this. It never mattered how tough the going was, he was the eternal optimist. Ploughing on had always been the only the option. And like always, he was being the man who, even after just learning of his own death, could think of the happiness of others.

‘Be happy! Gohtaro…’

In the corner of the small cafe, two hulking men were hugging each other and crying.

The ceiling fan above them still spun slowly.

Shuichi was first to stop crying. He grabbed Gohtaro’s shoulder.

‘Hey! Look at the camera. We’re making a message for Haruka’s wedding, aren’t we?’

Gohtaro, supported by Shuichi’s arm, was finally able to look into the camera, but his face was puffy and soaked in tears.

‘Well, smile then,’ Shuichi urged. ‘Come on, both of us are going to put on smiley faces and wish Haruka a happy wedding day, aren’t we?’

Gohtaro tried to smile, but it was no good.

On seeing Gohtaro’s attempt, Shuichi laughed boisterously. ‘Ha ha, nice look,’ and he put the camera into Gohtaro’s hand.

‘You’re definitely going to show this to Haruka, OK?’

Upon saying this, Shuichi stood up.

‘I’m sorry, Shuichi.’

Gohtaro was still crying.

‘Is something wrong with the coffee?’ queried Nagare in a low voice from behind the counter. It was his way of expressing concern. The coffee was going cold.

You’re not forgetting the time, are you? was what he meant.

‘Yeah, you should go,’ said Shuichi. Gohtaro stared into Shuichi’s eyes.

‘Shuichi!’ he yelled.

‘It’s OK. Don’t worry, I’m OK,’ he replied but it did nothing to dispel Gohtaro’s gloomy expression. He smiled wryly. ‘Hey! Are you planning on attending Haruka’s wedding as a spook or something?’ he asked, patting Gohtaro on the shoulder.

Gohtaro turned his tear-drenched face towards Shuichi.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

‘Hey, it’s OK, drink up!’ retorted Shuichi, waving his palms.

Gohtaro took the cup in his hands and, feeling that it had pretty much gone cold, gulped it all down in one.

‘Uh…’

A feeling much like dizziness once again enveloped him.

‘Shuichi—!’ Gohtaro shouted, but he had already begun to vaporize. His voice didn’t seem to have reached Shuichi. Yet, just when he thought his shimmering surroundings would begin to ripple, in his hazy state he clearly heard Shuichi say:

‘Look after Haruka for me.’

These were the same words the twenty-two-year younger Gohtaro had heard one year from then, on a day when the snow-like sakura petals had danced across the clear sky.

Gohtaro suddenly found that, just as on the way back in time, the speed with which he was being returned to the future was increasing, he was being propelled along. He lost consciousness.

‘Monsieur?’

Gohtaro came to, to the voice of Miki. The cafe interior looked exactly the same. But there before him were Miki, Nagare and Kazu.

Was it a dream?

Gohtaro’s focus abruptly shifted to his hand and to the camera in it. He hurriedly tried pressing the play button.

As he was looking at the screen, the woman in the dress returned from the toilet and stood in front of the table.

‘Move!’ she spat out in a frightening, deep, guttural tone.

‘Ah, sorry,’ Gohtaro said, getting up in a hurry to vacate the seat for her.

The woman in the dress sat down with a nonchalant expression and pushed the cup that remained on the table away from her, obviously an order to clear it away.

The unwanted cup was quickly collected up by Miki. Without the aid of a tray, she carried the cup in both hands. She scuffled past Gohtaro and returned to Nagare’s side behind the counter.

She passed the cup to Nagare.

‘Monsieur’s crying, darlings. Moi wonders if he’s OK?’ she asked, adopting her camp tone once again. Nagare looked over at Gohtaro peering into the camera screen while crying hard enough to make his shoulders shake. The sight must have worried him too. ‘Are you OK there?’ he asked.

‘I’m OK,’ Gohtaro answered, glued to the screen.

‘Well… OK then,’ Nagare said, and looked down at Miki. ‘He says he’s OK,’ he whispered. Kazu came out from the kitchen holding a new coffee for the woman in the dress.

‘How did it go?’ she asked Gohtaro as she stood alongside the special chair, wiped the table and served the coffee.

‘Be happy…’ Gohtaro said softly as he looked towards the chair ‘…is what he said.’ He clenched his teeth.

‘Oh really?’ replied Kazu quietly.

The screen was showing Shuichi with his hand around Gohtaro’s shoulder urging him to ‘Smile, smile.’

‘So OK, darlings, when will moi be able to do that?’

Gohtaro had made his way to the cash register and was getting ready to pay. Miki continued to tug at Nagare’s T-shirt sleeve.

‘Well, first of all, you can quit with the moi!’

‘But moi wants to do i – t.’

‘I won’t let a person who says moi do it.’

‘Well, you’re just a yellow-belly.’

‘I’m just a what?’

While Nagare and Miki continued their stand-off, Gohtaro started to leave but stopped mid-step.

‘If I may ask…’ he said to Kazu, looking at the two.

‘Yes?’ replied Kazu.

‘She was your mother, wasn’t she?’ Gohtaro asked looking over at the woman in the dress.

Kazu followed Gohtaro’s gaze.

‘Yes,’ she answered.

Gohtaro wanted to ask why her mother hadn’t come back from the past. But Kazu was giving off an air that barred any further discussion, her expressionless face still looking at the woman in the dress.

When Gohtaro had asked the same question before going back to the past, Kazu had said that the woman had returned to meet her dead husband.

That girl has probably suffered far more than I ever have, thought Gohtaro.

Unable to find any words to express any of that, he said, ‘Thank you very much…’

And with that, he left the cafe.

‘Twenty-two years ago…’ Nagare muttered, sighing.

‘You must have been just seven years old, right?’ he asked from behind the counter, speaking to Kazu, who was looking at Kaname.

‘Yes…’

‘I’m hoping that you too find happiness…’ Nagare muttered softly as if to himself.

‘Well, I—’

Kazu appeared to be about to say something, but Miki didn’t wait for her.

‘Hey darlings… how long before moi is allowed to do it?’ she asked, becoming entwined in Nagare’s legs.

Kazu looked at Miki and smiled warmly.

‘Do you ever let up?’ asked Nagare, letting out a deep sigh. ‘Your time will come!’ he said, attempting to untangle himself from Miki wrapped around him.

‘When will that be? What time, which day?’

‘Your time will come when your time comes!’

‘I don’t understand,’ Miki said, glued to Nagare’s leg, refusing to be separated. ‘When, when, whe – n?’

Just when Nagare’s patience was just about gone…

‘Miki, your turn will come too…’ said Kazu, joining the conversation. She moved close to Miki and crouched down so she was at eye level with her.

‘When you turn seven…’ she whispered gently.

‘Really?’ Miki asked, gawking straight into Kazu’s eyes.

‘Yes, really,’ Kazu confirmed.

Miki looked up at Nagare and waited for his answer.

By his expression, Nagare didn’t seem fond of the idea, but in the end, he let out a sigh of resignation.

‘OK,’ he answered, and nodded a couple of times.

‘Yippee, hooray!’ Miki was instantly over the moon with joy. She skipped and jumped with everything she had, and scuttled away into the back room.

Shaking his head, muttering, ‘What have I gone and said,’ he chased after her.

Left behind, Kazu was silently looking at the woman in the dress reading her novel.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, I still…’ she suddenly whispered.

The ticking of the three wall clocks reverberated loudly as if in tune with Kazu.

Always……

Always……