Before coffee gets cold 01

If he gets cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi, read by Arena E. If you could go back, who would you want to meet?

Chapter 1: The Lovers.

Oh gosh, is that the time? Sorry, I have to go, the man mumbled evasively as he stood up and reached for his bag.

Eh, the woman said. She glared with uncertainty. She hadn't heard him say it was over, but he had called her, his girlfriend of 3 years, to come out for a serious conversation. And now he had suddenly announced he was going to work in America. He was to leave immediately in a few hours. Even without hearing those words, she knew now that the serious conversation was about breaking up. She knew now it was a mistake to have thought, to have hoped that the serious conversation might have included, "Will you marry me?" for example.

"What?" the man responded dryly. He didn't make eye contact with her.

"Don't I deserve an explanation?" she asked. The woman spoke using an interrogative tone the man particularly disliked.

They were in a windowless basement cafe. The lighting was provided by just six shaded lamps hanging from the ceiling and a single wall lamp near the entrance. A permanent sepia hue stained the cafe interior. Without a clock, there was no way to tell night and day. There were three large antique wall clocks in the cafe. The arms of each, however, show different times. Was this intentional or were they just broken? Customers on their first visit never understood why they were like this. Their only option was to check their watches. The man did likewise.

While looking at the time on his watch, he started rubbing his fingers above his right eyebrow while his lower lip began to protrude slightly. The woman found that expression particularly exasperating. And why are you looking like that? Like I'm the one being a pain?" she blurted out.

"I'm not thinking that." He replied sheepishly.

"Yes, you are," she insisted. With bottom lip again protruding, he evaded her stare and offered no reply. The man's passive behavior was infuriating the woman more and more. She scowlled. You want it to be me who says it? She reached for her coffee from which all the heat had now gone. With the sweetest part of the experience lost, it sent her mood plummeting further.

The man looked at his watch again and counted back from the boarding time. He had to leave the cafe very soon. Unable to compose himself any better, his fingers had found their way back to his eyebrow. The sight of him so obviously hung up about the time annoyed her. She recklessly plunked the cup down on the table. It came down hard on the saucer. Clang. The loud noise startled him. His fingers, which had been busy caressing his right eyebrow, began to pull at his hair.

But then, after taking a short, deep breath, he sat back down and looked her in the face. All of a sudden, his face was calm. In fact, the man's face had so clearly changed that the woman was quite taken aback. She looked down and stared at her hands clenched on her lap. The man who had worried about time didn't wait for the woman to look up. "Now look," he started. No longer muttering, he sounded collected and together.

But as if she was actively trying to stop short his next words, the woman said, "Why don't you just go?" She didn't look up. The woman who wanted an explanation now refused to hear it. The man sat motionless as if time itself had stopped. "It's time for you to go, isn't it?" she said as petulently as a child. He looked at her perplexed, as if he didn't understand what she meant. As if she was aware of how childish and unpleasant she sounded, she uncomfortably averted her eyes from the man and bit her lip.

He rose from his seat and spoke to the waitress standing behind the counter. "Excuse me, I'd like to pay," he said in a small voice. The man tried to grab the bill, but the woman's hand was pressing down on it. I'm going to stay a bit longer, so I'll pay was what she meant to say. But he had pulled out the bill from under her hand with ease and was walking to the cash register. Together, thanks. Oh, I said leave it. Not moving from her chair, the woman reached out her hand to the man, but the man refused to look at her. He pulled out a thousand yen note from his wallet. "Keep the change," he said as he handed the waitress the note together with the bill. The man turned his face filled with sadness to the woman for a split second as he picked up his bag and left.

Clang dong. And that happened one week ago, said Fumiko Kiyokoa. Her upper body flopped into a heap on the table like a deflating balloon. As she collapsed, she somehow avoided spilling the coffee cup in front of her. The waitress and the customer seated at the counter who had been listening to Fumiko's story looked at each other.

Before Fumioa had finished senior high school, she had already mastered six languages. After graduating top of her class from Wasida University, she joined a major medical related IT firm in Tokyo. By her second year at the firm, she was already directing numerous projects. She was the epitome of the smart career-driven woman. Today, Fumiko was dressed in ordinary business attire, a white blouse and black skirt and jacket. Judging by her appearance, she was on her way home from work. Fumiko's looks were better than ordinary. Blessed with well-defined features and petite lips, she had the face of a pop idol. Her mid-length black hair shawn and crowned her with a glowing halo. Despite her conservative clothes, her exceptional figure was easy to discern. Like a model from a fashion magazine, she was a beautiful woman who would draw anyone's gaze. Yes, she was a woman who combined intelligence and beauty. But whether she realized this was a different matter. In the past, Fumiko hadn't been one to dwell on such things. She had lived only for her work. Of course, this didn't mean she had never had relationships. It's just that they never had the same allure for her as work. "My work is my lover," she would say. She had turned down approaches for many men as though flicking away specks of dust.

The man she had been talking about was Goro Katada. Goro was a systems engineer and like Fumiko, he was employed by a medical company, though it wasn't a major one. He was her boyfriend. He was her boyfriend and 3 years her junior. They had met two years ago via a client for which they were both doing a project.

One week ago, Goro had asked Fumiko to meet for a serious conversation. She had arrived at the meeting place in an elegant pale pink dress with a beige spring coat and wide pumps, having caught the attention of all the men she had passed on the way there. It was a new look for Fumiko. She was such a workaholic that before her relationship with Goro, she had owned no other clothes but suits. Suits were what she had worn on dates with Goro as well. After all, they mostly met after work. Goro had said serious conversation and Fumiko had interpreted this as meaning that the conversation was going to be special. So filled with expectation, she had bought an outfit especially.

They arrived at their chosen cafe to find a sign on the window saying it was closed due to unforeseen circumstances. Um and Goro were disappointed. The cafe would have been ideal for a serious conversation as each table was in a private booth. Left with no choice but to find another suitable place, they noticed a small sign down a quiet side street. As it was a basement cafe, they had no way of knowing what it was like inside. But Fumiko was attracted by its name, which came from the lyrics of a song she used to sing as a child. And they agreed to go in.

Fumiko regretted her decision as soon as she peered inside. It was smaller than she had imagined. The cafe had counter and table seats, but with just three seats at the counter and three two-seater tables, it only took nine customers to fill the place. Unless the serious conversation currently weighing on Fumiko's mind was to be held in whispers, the entire thing would be overheard. Another negative was the way that everything appeared as in sepia owing to the few shaded lamps. It was not to her taste at all. A place for shady deals. That was Fumiko's first impression of this cafe. She nervously made her way to the only empty table and sat down. There were three other customers and one waitress in the cafe. At the furthest table sat a woman in a white short-sleeved dress, quietly reading a book. At the table closest to the entrance sat a dull looking man. A travel magazine was spread open on the table and he was jotting memos in a tiny notebook. The woman seated at the counter wore a bright red chamisole and green leggings. A sleeveless kimono jacket hung on the back of her chair, and she still had curlers in her hair. She glanced fleetingly at Fumiko, gritting broadly as she did. At several points during Fumiko and Goro's conversation, the woman made a remark to the waitress and let off a rockous laugh.

On hearing Fumiko's explanation, the woman in curler said, "I see." Actually, she didn't see at all. She was just following up with the appropriate response. Her name was Yayiko Hiayi. One of the cafe regulars, she had just turned 30 and ran a nearby snack or hostess bar. She always came in for a cup of coffee before work. Her curlers were in again, but today she was wearing a revealing yellow tube top, a bright red minikrt, and vivid purple leggings. Hiu was sitting cross-legged on the counter chair while listening to Fumiko. It was one week ago. You remember, don't you?

Fumiko stood up and directed her attention across the counter to the waitress. Yeah. The waitress answered uneasily, not looking at Humiko's face. The waitress's name was Kazu Tokita. Kazu was a cousin of the proprietor. She was waitressing there while attending Tokyo University of the Arts. She had quite a pretty face, a pale complexion, and narrow almond-shaped eyes. Yet, her features were not memorable. It was the type of face that if you glanced at it, closed your eyes, and then tried to remember what you saw, nothing would come to mind. In a word, she was inconspicuous. She had no presence. She didn't have many friends either. Not that she worried about it. Kazu was the sort of person who found interpersonal relationships rather tedious.

"So, what about him? Where is he now?" Hi asked, playing with the cup in her hand, not seeming very interested.

America, Fumiko said, puffing out her cheeks. So your boyfriend chose work, then Hi had a gift for getting to the heart of the matter.

No, that's not right, Fumiko protested.

Hey, but that is right, isn't it? He went to America, didn't he? Hi said. She was having a hard time understanding Fumiko.

Didn't you understand when I explained? Fumiko said vehemently. What bit? I wanted to scream out, don't go, but I was too proud. Not many women would admit that. Hi lent back with a snicker, slipped off balance, and nearly fell off the chair. Fumiko ignored Hedai's reaction. You understood, right? She said, looking for support from Kazu.

Kazu feigned a moment's contemplation. Basically, you're saying you didn't want him to go to America, right? Kazu was also one to get straight to the point.

Well, basically, I guess no, I didn't. But you're a difficult one to understand, Hi said joy after seeing that Humiko was struggling to reply. If Hi had been in Humiko's place, she would have just broken down in tears. Don't go, she would have screamed. Of course, they would have been crocodile tears. Tears are a woman's weapon. That was Hi's philosophy.

Fumigo turned to Kazu at the middle of the counter. Her eyes were glistening. "Anyway, I want you to transport me back to that day." "That day one week ago," she pleaded totally straightfaced.

"Hay was first to respond to the lunacy of requesting to be sent back to one week ago." "Back in time," she says. She looked to Kazu with raised eyebrows. Looking uncomfortable, Kazu simply muttered, "Oh," and didn't add anything further.

Several years had passed since the cafe had its moment of fame in the light of an urban legend that claimed it could transport people back to the past. Uninterested in that kind of thing, Fumiko had allowed it to fade from her memory. Visiting a week ago was complete happenstance. But last night she had watched a variety program on TV. In the introduction, the host spoke about urban legends. And like a bolt of lightning striking inside her head, she remembered the cafe. The cafe that transports you back in time. It was an incomplete memory, but she remembered that key phrase clearly.

If I return to the past, I might be able to set things right, I might be able to have a conversation with Goro once more. She replayed this fanciful wish over and over in her mind. She became obsessed and lost any ability to make a level-headed judgment. The next morning, she went to work, completely forgetting to eat breakfast. There, her mind was not on the job. She sat there obsessed with the passing time. I just want to make sure. She wanted to find out either way as soon as possible and not a second later. Her day at work was a long string of careless mistakes. So sporadic was her attention that a colleague asked if she was okay. By the end of the day, she had reached peak scatterbrain.

It took her 30 minutes to get from her company to the cafe by train. She pretty much ran the last stretch from the station. Entering the cafe feeling quite breathless, she'd walked up to Kazu. Please send me back to the past, she'd pleaded before Kazu could even finish saying, "Hello, welcome." Her animated gestures had continued in that vein until she had finished her explanation. But now looking at the reaction of the two women, she felt ill at ease. Hedai had continued to stare at her with a large smirk on her face while Kazu wore a dead pan expression and avoided all eye contact. "If it was true about going back in time, I guess the place would be thronging with people," Fumiko thought to herself. But the only people in this cafe were the woman in the white dress, the man with his travel magazine, and Hi and Kazu, the same faces that were here a week ago.

It's possible to go back, right? She asked uneasily. It may have been prudent to begin with this question, but it was pointless to realize this now. Well, is it or not? she asked, staring directly at Kazu on the other side of the counter.

H a Kazu replied. Fumiko's eyes once again lit up. She was not hearing a no. An air of excitement started to surround her. Please send me back. She pleaded so energetically that she seemed about to leap over the counter.

You want to go back and do what? asked Hidai cooly between sips of her tepid coffee.

I'd make amends. Her face was serious.

I see, said Hayai with a shrug. Please, she spoke louder. The word reverberated throughout the cafe.

It was only recently that the idea of marrying Goro had occurred to her. She was turning 28 this year and she had been interrogated on many occasions by her persistent parents who lived in Hakodate. Still not thinking of marriage. Haven't you met any nice men? And so forth. Her parents nagging had grown more intense since her 25-year-old sister got married the year before. Now, it had reached the point where she was receiving weekly emails. Aside from her younger sister, Fumiko also had a 23-year-old brother. He had married a girl from their hometown following a surprise pregnancy, leaving only Fumiko single. Fumiko felt no rush, but after her little sister got married, her mindset had changed just a little. She had started to think getting married might be okay if it was to Goro.

Hidai plucked a cigarette from her leopard print pouch. "Perhaps you'd best explain it to her properly, don't you think?" she said in a business-like manner while lighting it.

"It seems like I should," Kazu replied in her toneless voice as she walked around the counter and stood before Humiko. She looked at her with a soft kindness in her eyes as if she were consoling a crying child. Look, I want you to listen and listen carefully. Okay.

What? Fumiko's body tensed up. You can go back. It's true. You can go back. But but when you go back, no matter how hard you try, the present won't change. The present won't change. This was something Fumiko was totally unprepared for, something she couldn't take in.

"Eh," she said loudly without thinking. Kazu calmly continued explaining. Even if you go back to the past and tell your um boyfriend who went to America how you feel, even if I tell him how I feel, the present won't change.

What? Not wanting to hear, Fumiko desperately covered her ears. But Kazu casually went on to say the words that she least wanted to hear. It won't change the fact that he's gone to America. A trembling sensation swept through her entire body. Yet, with what seemed like a ruthless disregard for her feelings, Kazu continued with her explanation. Even if you return to the past, reveal your feelings, and ask him not to go, it won't change the present.

Fumiko reacted impulsively to Kazu's cold, hard words. That sort of defeats the purpose, don't you think? She said defiantly.

Easy now. Let's not shoot the messenger, Hidai said. She took a drag of her cigarette and seemed uninspired by Fumigo's reaction.

"Why?" Fumigo asked Kazu, her eyes begging for answers.

"Why? I'll tell you why." Kazu began. Because that's the rule. There tends to be in any movie or novel about time travel some rule saying don't go meddling in anything that is going to change the present. For example, going back and preventing your parents marrying or meeting would erase the circumstances of your birth and cause your present self to vanish. This had been the standard state of affairs in most time travel stories at Fumiko knew. So she believed the rule if you change the past you do change the present. On that basis she wanted to return to the past and have the chance to do it aresh. Alas it was a dream that was not to be.

She wanted a convincing explanation as to why this unbelievable rule existed that there is nothing you can do while in the past that will change the present. The only explanation that Kazu would give was to say because that's the rule. Was she trying to tease her in a friendly way by not telling her the reason? Or was it a difficult concept that she was unable to explain? Or perhaps she didn't understand the reason either as her casual expression seemed to suggest. Hai seemed to be relishing the sight of Fumiko's expression. Tough luck," she said, exhaling a plume of smoke with obvious pleasure. She had drafted that line earlier when Fumiko had begun her explanation and had been waiting to deliver it ever since.

But why? Fumiko felt the energy drain from her body. As she let herself slouch limply into her chair, a vivid recollection came to her. She had read an article on this cafe in a magazine. The article had the headline, "Uncovering truth behind time traveling cafe made famous by urban legend." The gist of the article was as follows. The cafe's name was Ficuli Ficula. It had become famous with long cues each day on account of the time traveling. But it wasn't possible to find anyone who had actually gone back in time because of the extremely annoying rules that had to be followed. The first rule was the only people you can meet while in the past are those who have visited the cafe. This would usually defeat the purpose of going back. Another rule was there is nothing you can do while in the past that will change the present. The cafe was asked why that rule existed, but their only comment was that they didn't know. As the author of the article was unable to find anyone who had actually visited the past, whether or not it was actually possible to go back in time remained a mystery. Even supposing it was possible, the sticky point of not being able to change the present certainly made the whole idea seem pointless. The article concluded by stating that it certainly made an interesting urban legend, but it was difficult to see why the legend existed. As a postcript, the article also mentioned there were apparently other rules that had to be followed, but it was unclear what they were.

Fumiko's attention returned to the cafe. Hi seated herself opposite her at the table she had collapsed onto and proceeded to merrily explain the other rules. With her head and shoulders still sprawled on the table, Fumiko fixed her eyes on the sugar pot, wondering why the cafe didn't use sugar cubes, and quietly listened. It's not just those rules. There's only one seat that allows you to go back in time, okay? And while in the past, you can't move from that seat, Hai said. What else was there? She asked Kazu as she moved her count to her fifth finger. There's a time limit, Kazu said, keeping her eyes on the glass she was wiping. She mentioned it like an afterthought, as if she were merely talking to herself. Fumiko raised her head in reaction to this news. a time limit. Kazu showed a slight smile and nodded. Hayai gave the table a nudge. Frankly, after hearing just these rules, barely anyone still wants to return to the past, she said, apparently enjoying herself. And she was indeed taking great delight in observing Fumiko. It's been a long time since we've seen a customer like you. Someone totally set in your delusion of wanting to go back to the past.

Hi, Kazu said sternly. Life doesn't get served to you on a plate. Why don't you just give it up? Hi blurted out as she looked ready to continue her tirade. Hi, Kazu repeated this time with a bit more emphasis. No, no. I think it's best to clearly put it out there. Huh? Then Hi gauled loudly. The words spoken were all too much for Humiko. Her strength had entirely drained from her body and again she collapsed head and shoulders onto the table.

Then from across the room. Can I have a refill please? said the man sitting at the table closest to the entrance with his travel magazine opened out in front of him. Okay, Kazu called back.

Clang Dong. A woman had entered the cafe alone. She was wearing a beige cardigan over a pale aqua shirt dress and crimson trainers and carrying a white canvas bag. Her eyes were round and sparkling like a little girl's. Hello. Kazu's voice boomed through the cafe. Hi, Kazu. Sis. Hi there. Kazu called her sis, but actually she was her cousin's wife, Kay Tokita. Looks like the cherry blossoms have had it. Kay smiled, showing no grief at their passing. Yes, the trees are pretty bare now. Kazu's tone was polite, but not the same polite, civil tone she had used when speaking to Fumiko. Her tone now sounded softer and more like a dove. Good evening, said Hai as she moved from the seat at Fumiko's table to the counter, appearing to be no longer interested in laughing at Fumiko's misfortune. Where have you been? Hospital. What for? Just a routine checkup? Yes. You've got a bit of color in your face today. Yes, I feel good. Glancing over at Fumiko, still limp at the table, Kay tilted her head inquisitively. Hidai gave a slight nod, and with that, Kay disappeared into the room behind the counter.

Clang Dong. Soon after Kay had disappeared into the back room, a large man poked his head through the doorway, bowing his head to stop it banging into the door frame. He was wearing a light jacket over his chef's uniform of white shirt and black trousers. A huge bundle of keys was jingling on his right hand. He was Nagare Tokita, the owner of the cafe. Good evening, Kazu greeted him. Nagada nodded in response and turned his eyes to the man with a magazine at the table closest to the entrance. Kazu went into the kitchen to bring a refill for the empty coffee cup that Hi was silently holding up while Hi, leaning with one elbow on the counter quietly observed Nagare. Nagare was standing in front of the man who was engrossed in his magazine. Fusagi, he said gently. For a moment, the man called Fagi didn't react as if it hadn't recognized that his name had been called. Then he looked up slowly at Nagare. Nagare nodded politely and said, "Hello." "Oh, hello." Usagi said with a blank expression. He immediately returned to his magazine. For a moment, Nagata continued to stand there looking at him. Kazu, he called to the kitchen. Kazu poked her face out from the kitchen. What is it? Ring Kotake for me, please. The request puzzled Kazu for a while. Yes, because she's been looking, Nagare said as he turned to face Hagi. Kazu understood what he meant. Oh, right, she replied. After giving Hi a refill, she disappeared into the back room again to make the phone call. Nagare cast a sideways glance at Fumiko, slumped over the table as he walked behind the counter, and took a glass from the shelf. He pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge under the counter, poured it nonchalantly into the glass, and gulped it down. Nagare took the glass into the kitchen to wash it. A moment later, there was a sound of fingernails tapping on the counter. He poked his head out of the kitchen to see what was happening. Hidai made a small beckoning gesture. With dripping hands, he approached quietly. She leaned a little over the counter. "How was it?" she whispered to him as he searched for some kitchen paper. H he mumbled ambiguously. Maybe it was somehow an answer to the question. Or maybe it was just a frustrated grunt while looking for the elusive kitchen paper. Hiri lowered her voice further. How were the test results? Not replying to this question, Nagare briefly scratched the top of his nose. "They were bad?" Hedai asked more somberly. Nagatt's expression did not falter. After looking at the results, they decided she doesn't need to be hospitalized," he explained in a low mumble, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Hidia gave a quiet sigh." I see," she said and glanced towards the back room where Kay was. Kay was born with a weak heart. Throughout her life, she had been in and out of hospital. Nevertheless, having been blessed all her life with a friendly and carefree disposition, she could always manage a smile, no matter how bad her condition got. Hidai was all too familiar with that aspect of her. That was why she checked with Nagare. Nagare had finally located the kitchen paper and was wiping his hands. "And how are things with you, Hayi? Are they okay?" Hay wasn't sure what Nagata was asking about. Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?" "Your sister has been coming to see you a fair bit, hasn't she?" "Ah, I guess she has," Hedai answered while she looked around the cafe. Your parents run a traveler's inn, right? Yeah, that's right. Nagata didn't know about things in much detail, but he had heard that as a result of Hai having left the family home, her sister had taken over running the inn. It must be tough for your sister alone like that. Nah, she's coping all right. My sister's got their right head for handling that kind of work. But still, it's been too long. I can't go home now. He'd eye snapped. She pulled out a large purse from her leopard skin pouch. It was so big it looked more like a dictionary than a purse. Her purse jingled as she began foraging among the coins. "Why not? Even if I went home, I wouldn't be any help," she said, tilting her head with a silly smile. "But anyway, thanks for the coffee. I have to go, she said, cutting Nagati short. She put the coffee money on the counter, then got up and walked out of the door as if she was running away from the conversation.

Clang dong. While picking up the coins that Hai had left, Nagara glanced at Fumiko slumped on the table. But it was just a glance. He didn't seem very interested in who this woman was face down on the table. He collected up the coins in his large hands and playfully jangled them. Hey bro. Kazu's face appeared as she called out. Kazu called Nagare bro despite him being her cousin, not her brother. What? Sis is calling you. Nagare looked around the cafe. Okay, coming, he said. He casually placed the coins in Kazu's hand. Kotake said she'll come straight away, Kazu said. Nagare received the news with a nod. Look after the cafe, could you? He disappeared into the back room. Okay, she said. The only people in the cafe though were the woman reading a novel, Fumiko, who was slumped over the table, and Husagi, who was taking notes from the magazine spread open on the table. After depositing the coins in the cash register, Kazu cleared away the coffee cup left by Hayai. One of the cafe's three old wall clocks sounded five deep, resonating gongs. Coffee, please. Usagi called over to Kazu behind the counter, holding up his coffee cup as he spoke. He had yet to receive the refill he had already asked for. "Oh, right," exclaimed Kazu, realizing, and hurried back to the kitchen. She came out again, holding a transparent glass carff filled with coffee. Even that would be okay," muttered Fumiko, still slumped on the table. While Kazu was pouring a refill for Fusagi, Fumiko's presence in the corner of her vision attracted her attention. Fumiko sat upright. "Even that I can live with. It's okay if nothing changes. Things can stay as they are." She got up and went over to Kazu, invading her space a little, gently placing a coffee cup in front of Fusagi. Kazu's brow settled into a frown. She took a couple of steps back. Right. Uh, she said. Fumiko drew in even closer. So, transport me to one week ago. It was as if her doubts had been washed away. No longer was there any hint of uncertainty in her speech. If anything, there was just excitement at the chance of returning to the past. Her nostrils were flaring with enthusiasm. Um, but becoming uncomfortable with Fumiko's overbearing attitude, Kazu darted around her and moved back behind the counter as if seeking refuge. "One more important rule," she began. In response to these words, Fumiko's eyebrows widened considerably. What? There are more rules. You can't meet people who haven't visited this cafe. The present cannot change. There is only one seat that takes you to the past, and you cannot move from it. Then there is the time limit. Fumiko counted on her fingers as she ran through each rule, and her anger at them grew. This one is probably the most problematic. Fumiko was already extremely annoyed with the rule she knew. The news of a further most problematic rule threatened to snap her heart in two. Nevertheless, she bit her lip. "If that's the case, then fine, so be it. Go on, tell me," she said, folding her arms and nodding to Kazu as if to emphasize her resolve. Kazu drew a short breath as if to say, "I will then," and vanished into the kitchen to put away the transparent glass carff she'd been holding. Left standing there alone, Pumiko took a deep breath to feel more centered. Her initial aim had been to return to the past to somehow stop Goro going to America. Stopping him from going sounded bad. But if she confessed, "I don't want you to go." Goro might give up the idea of leaving. If things went well, they might end up never splitting up. At any rate, the initial reason for wanting to go back to the past was to change the present. But if it wasn't possible to change the present, then Goro going to America and them splitting up were also unchangeable. Regardless, Fumiko still yearned passionately to return to the past. All she wanted to do was to go back and see. Her entire objective was centered on the actual act of going back. Her heart was set on experiencing this fantastical phenomenon. She didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. It might be a good thing. And how could it be a bad thing? She told herself. After she finished a deep breath, Kazu returned. Fumiko's face stiffened like an accused awaiting the court's decision. Kazu stood behind the counter. It is only possible to go back in time when seated at a particular seat in this cafe, she proclaimed. Fumiko reacted instantly. Which one? Where should I sit? She looked around the cafe so rapidly she almost made a whooshing sound as she turned her head from side to side. Ignoring her reaction, Kazu turned her head and looked fixedly at the woman in the white dress. Fumiko followed her constant gaze. "That seat," Kazu said quietly. "That one? The one the woman's sitting in?" Fumiko whispered across the counter while keeping her eyes glued on the woman in the dress. "Yes," Kazu answered simply. Yet, even before she had finished hearing that short reply, Fumiko was already walking up to the woman in the white dress. She was a woman who gave the impression that fortune had passed her by. Her white, almost translucent skin contrasted starkly with her long black hair. It may have been spring, but the weather was definitely still chilly on bare skin. Yet, the woman was wearing short sleeves, and there was no sign she had a jacket with her. Fumigo was getting the feeling that something was not right. But now was not the time to be concerned with such things. Fumiko spoke to the woman. "Uh, excuse me. Would you mind awfully if we swapped seats?" she asked, holding back her impatience. She thought she had spoken politely and without rudeness. Yet the woman in the dress did not react. It was as if she had not even heard her. Fumigo felt a little put out by this. On some rare occasions, a person can be so engrossed in a book she does not hear the surrounding voices and sounds. Fumigo assumed that was the case here. She tried again. Hello. Can you hear me? You're wasting your time. The voice came unexpectedly from behind Fumiko. It was Kazu. It took her a while to work out what she meant by it. I only wanted her to give me the seat. Why was I wasting my time? Was I wasting my time asking politely? Wait, is this another rule? Do I have to clear this other rule first? If that's the case, I think she could say something a bit more helpful than you're wasting your time. Such were the thoughts that were running through her mind. Yet, in the end, she asked a simple question. Why? She asked Kazu with a look of childlike innocence. Kazu looked directly into her eyes. Because the woman is a ghost, she responded sternly. She sounded deadly serious and like she was telling the absolute truth. Once again, Fumiko's head was filled with racing thoughts. Ghost? A real moaning, shrieking ghost? The sword that appears under a weeping willow in the summer. The girl just said it so casually. Maybe I misheard, but what sounds like is a ghost? Fumigo's head was a wash with many confusing thoughts. Ghost? Yes, you're messing with me. No, honestly, she's a ghost. Fumiko was bewildered. She was happy not to get stuck on questioning whether or not ghosts actually exist. But what she couldn't accept was the possibility that the woman in the dress was a ghost. She seemed far too real. Look, I can clearly see her. Kazu finished her sentence as if she knew what Fumiko was going to say. Fumiko was confused, but without thinking, she stretched her hand out towards the woman's shoulder. Just as she was about to touch the woman in the dress, Kazu said, "You can touch her." Again, Kazu had a ready reply. Fumigo placed her hand on the woman's shoulder as if to confirm that she could be touched. Without a doubt, she could feel the woman's shoulder and the material of her dress covering her soft skin. She couldn't believe that this was a ghost. She gently removed her hand. Then once again, she placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. She turned to Kazu as if to say, "I can clearly touch her. Calling this person a ghost is crazy." But Kazu's face remained cool and composed. She's a ghost. Really? A ghost? Fumigo poked her head towards the woman and looked her squarely in the face quite rudely. Yes, Kazu replied with utmost certainty. No way. I just can't believe it. If Fumiko could see her but was unable to touch her, then she could have accepted it. But this was not the case. She could touch the woman who had legs. The title of the book the woman was reading was one she had never heard of. It was a normal book, nevertheless, one that you could buy almost anywhere. This led Fumiko to come up with a theory. You can't really go back to the past. This cafe can't really take you back to the past. It's all just a ploy to get people to come. Take the countless number of annoying rules for example. These are just the first hurdle to encourage customers wanting to return to the past to give up. If the customer passes that first hurdle, then this must be the second hurdle for those customers who still want to go back in time. They mention a ghost to frighten the person into giving up on the idea. The woman in the dress is just for show. She's pretending to be a ghost. Fumiko was beginning to feel quite stubborn. If it's all a lie, then so be it. But I'm not going to be fooled by this lie. Fumiko addressed the woman in the dress politely. Look, it will only be for a short while. Please, would you kindly allow me to sit there?" But it was as if the words hadn't reached the woman's ears. She continued reading without the slightest reaction. Being totally ignored like this darkened Fumiko's mood. She grabbed the woman's upper arm. "Stop! You mustn't do that!" warned Kazu loudly. "Hey, just stop it. Stop just ignoring me." Fumiko tried to forcefully drag the woman in the dress from her seat, and then it happened. The woman in the dress's eyes widened, and she glared at her fiercely. She felt as if the weight of her body had increased many times over. It felt as if dozens of heavy blankets had fallen over her. The light in the cafe dimmed to the brightness of candle light. An unworldly wailing began to reverberate through the cafe. She was paralyzed, unable to move a muscle. She dropped to her knees and then fell to a crawling position. What's happening? What's happening? She had absolutely no idea what was happening. Kazu in a smug told you so kind of way simply said, "She cursed you." When Fumiko heard curse, she didn't understand at first. "Huh?" she asked with a groan. Unable to withstand this invisible force that seemed to be getting stronger, Fumiko was now lying face down on the floor. What? What is this? What's going on? It's a curse. You went ahead and did what you did and she cursed you, said Kazu as she slipped back into the kitchen, leaving Fumiko sprawled on the floor. Lying face down, Fumiko didn't see Kazu go, but with one ear firmly against the floor, she clearly heard Kazu leave by the sound of her fading footsteps. Her fear was so intense, Fumiko shivered as if icy water had been poured over her entire body. You've got to be kidding. Look at me. What can I do? There was no response. Fumiko started shuddering. The woman in the dress was still glaring at Fumiko with a terrifying expression. She seemed a completely different person to the woman who had been calmly reading her book just moments earlier. Help me. Please help me. Fumiko yelled out to the kitchen. Kazu calmly returned. Fumiko could not see this, but Kazu was holding a glass carff of coffee in her hand. Fumiko heard her footsteps coming towards her, but she had no idea what was happening. First the rules, then the ghost, and now the curse. It was all utterly bewildering. Kazu hadn't even given her any indication whether she meant to help her or not. Fumiko was on the verge of yelling, "Help!" at the top of her lungs. But right at that moment, "Would you care for some more coffee?" Fumiko heard Kazu asking nonchulently, Fumiko was incensed, ignoring her in her moment of need. Kazu was not only not helping, she was offering the woman in the dress some more coffee. Fumiko was dumbfounded. I was clearly told she was a ghost, and it was wrong of me not to believe it. It was also wrong of me to grab onto the woman's arm and try to forcefully remove her from her chair. But even though I've been yelling, "Help me," the girl has just been ignoring me. And now she is breezily asking that woman if she wants more coffee. Why would a ghost be wanting another coffee? You've got to be kidding. Was all that Fumiko was able to vocalize, however. But without hesitation, "Yes, please." An eerily ethereal voice replied. It was the woman in the dress who had spoken. Suddenly, Fumiko's body felt lighter. The curse had been lifted. Fumiko, unencumbered and panting, stood upright on her knees and glared at Kazu. Kazu returned her gaze as if to ask, "You have something to say?" and shrugged with indifference. The woman in the dress took a sip from her freshly poured coffee and then returned quietly to her book. Acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Kazu disappeared back to the kitchen to return the corff. Fumiko once more reached her hand out to touch the shoulder of that terrifying woman in the dress. Her fingers could feel her. The woman is here. She exists. Unable to understand such weird events, Fumiko was completely confused. She had experienced the whole thing, she couldn't dispute that her body had been pushed down by an invisible force. Though she could not make sense of things in her head, her heart had already fathomemed the situation well enough to be pumping gallons of blood through her body. She stood up and walked towards the counter, feeling quite dizzy. By the time she had made her way there, Kazu had returned from the kitchen. "Is she really a ghost?" Fumiko asked Kazu. "Yes," was Kazu's only reply. She had started topping up the sugar pot with sugar. "So, this totally impossible thing happened." Fumigo once more began to hypothesize. If the ghost and the curse really happened, then what they say about going back in time might also really be true. Experiencing the curse had convinced Fumigo that you can go back. But there was a problem. It was that rule. In order to go back to the past, you have to sit in one particular seat. Sitting in that one particular seat, however, is a ghost. Anything I say doesn't get through to her. And when I tried to sit there forcefully, she cursed me. What am I meant to do? You just have to wait, Kazu said as if she could hear Fumiko's thoughts. What do you mean? Every day there is just one moment when she goes to the toilet. A ghost needs to go to the toilet. While she's gone, you can sit there. Fumiko stared hard into Kazu's eyes. She gave a small nod. That seemed to be the only solution. As to Fumiko's question of whether ghosts go to the toilet, Kazu was unsure of whether it was genuine curiosity or meant for comedic effect and decided to ignore it with a dead pan expression. Fumiko drew a deep breath. A moment ago, she had been grasping at straws. Now, she had a piece of straw in her hand, and she wasn't going to let it go. She once had read a story about a man who traded his way up from one piece of straw to become a millionaire. If she was to become a straw millionaire, she mustn't waste that straw. Okay, I'll wait. I'll wait. Fine. But you should know that she doesn't differentiate between day and night. Yes. Okay. I'll wait. Fumiko said, desperately clutching her straw. What time do you close? Regular opening hours are until 8:00 p.m., but if you decide you want to wait, you can wait for as long as it takes. Thank you. Fumiko sat down at the middle of the three tables. She sat with her chair facing the woman in the dress. She folded her arms and breathed hard through her nose. "I'm going to get that seat," she announced, glaring at the woman in the dress. The woman in the dress was reading her book as always. Kazu gave a little sigh.

Clang Dong. Hello. Good evening, said Kazu, delivering her standard greeting. Kotake. Standing in the open doorway was a woman. She looked like she might be a little over 40. Kotake was wearing a navy blue cardigan over a nurse's uniform and carrying a plain shoulder bag. Breathing a little heavily as if she had been running, she held her hand on her chest as if to steady her breath. "Thanks for calling," she said. She spoke quickly. Kazu nodded with a smile and disappeared into the kitchen. Kotake took two or three steps towards the table closest to the entrance and stood next to the man called Husagi. He didn't seem to notice her at all. Usagi," Kotake said in a gentle tone that one would normally reserve for a child. At first, Usagi showed no reaction, as if he hadn't noticed that she had called him. But noticing her in his peripheral vision, he turned to her with a vacant stare. "Kotake," he muttered. "Yes, it's me," Kotake said with clear articulation. What are you doing here? I had some

Time off, and I thought I might have a cup of coffee.

"Oh, okay," Fusagi said. He once more cast his eyes down to his magazine.

Kotake, continuing to look at him, sat casually down in the seat opposite. He didn't react to this and instead turned the page of his magazine. "I hear you've been coming here a lot lately," Kotake said while studying every nook and cranny of the cafe like a customer who was visiting for the first time.

"Yeah," Fusagi said simply.

"So, you've taken a liking to this place?"

"Oh, not particularly," he said in a way that clearly showed that he had indeed taken a liking to the place. A slight smile formed on his lips. "I'm waiting."

"What are you waiting for?"

He turned and looked over at the seat where the woman in the dress was sitting. "For her to leave that seat," he answered. His face betrayed a boyish glimmer.

Fumiko hadn't particularly been eavesdropping, but the cafe was small. "What?" she exclaimed in surprise at learning that Fusagi was likewise waiting for the woman in the dress to go to the toilet so he could return to the past.

Hearing Fumiko's voice, Kotake turned to look at her, but Fusagi paid no attention to her himself. "Is that so?" Kotake asked.

"Yeah," was all that Fusagi said in reply as he took a sip of his coffee.

Fumiko was shaken. "Please don't let me have competition." After all, she instantly realized that it was her who was at a disadvantage should they both have the same objective. When she had entered the cafe, Fusagi was already there. Since he was here first, it was his turn first. As a matter of common courtesy, she was not going to jump the queue. The woman in the dress only went to the toilet once a day. Therefore, there was only one chance to sit in the seat each day.

Fumiko wanted to go back in time right away. She was unable to bear the thought that she might have to wait an extra day and was unable to hide her agitation at this unexpected development. She leaned sideways and cocked her ear to make sure that Fusagi really did intend to return to the past.

"Did you get to sit there today?" Kotake asked.

"Not today."

"Oh, you couldn't sit there?"

"Yeah, no."

Their conversation was doing nothing to allay her worst fears. Fumiko scrunched up her face. "Fusagi, what do you want to do when you go back in time?" There was no mistaking. Fusagi was waiting for the woman in the dress to go to the toilet. This revelation was a huge blow for Fumiko. Disappointment spread across her face and she collapsed onto the table again.

The devastating conversation continued. "Something you want to fix?"

"Well," Fusagi thought for a moment. "That's my secret," he said. He gave a self-satisfied, childish grin.

"Your secret?"

"Yeah."

Even though Fusagi had said it was a secret, Kotake smiled as if something was pleasing. Then she looked over to the woman in the dress. "But it seems like she probably won't be going to the toilet today, does it?"

Fumiko hadn't been expecting to hear that. She reacted automatically, lifting her head from the table. Her movement was so swift it was almost audible. "Is it possible that the woman might not even go to the toilet?" Kazu said that she goes once a day. But as that woman said, perhaps the woman in the dress has already made today's trip. No, that can't be the case. Oh, I really hope that's not the case.

Praying that was not the case, Fumiko waited in trepidation for what Fusagi would say next.

"Perhaps that's right," he said, readily conceding this point.

"No way." Fumiko's mouth opened as if to let out a shriek, but she was dumbfounded by the shock. Why isn't the woman in the dress going to the toilet? What does the woman called Kotake know? She was desperate for answers. Yet, she sensed that she shouldn't interrupt the conversation. She had always believed that reading the situation was important. And right now, Kotake's entire body language was saying, "Stay out of it." Exactly what she was meant to stay out of was not clear to her. But there was definitely something happening there, and outsiders weren't welcome.

"So, how about we leave?" Kotake said in a gentle, coaxing way.

"Huh?" Her big chance was back. Setting aside the question of whether the woman in the dress had already gone to the toilet, if Fusagi left, at least she could be rid of her rival.

When Kotake had suggested that the woman in the dress probably wouldn't be moving today, Fusagi had simply agreed. "Perhaps that's right." He said "perhaps." It is equally plausible that he could have meant "at any rate." "I'm waiting to see." If it was her, Fumiko would definitely wait. She concentrated all of her mental reserves while she waited for his reply, trying not to appear too eager. It was as if her entire body had become her ears. She glanced over at the woman in the dress, then paused deep in thought.

"Sure, okay," he replied. As it was such a clear and simple reply, Fumiko's heart didn't skip a beat. But even so, her excitement soared, and she felt her heart beating fast.

"Right, then we'll leave when you finish your cup," said Kotake, looking at the half-empty coffee cup.

Fusagi now seemed to be only thinking about leaving. "No, it's okay. It's gone cold anyhow," he said as he clumsily packed away his magazine, notebook, and pencil, and got up from his seat. Putting on his jacket with fleecy sleeves, a type often worn by construction workers, he made his way to the till.

With impeccable timing, Kazu came back out of the kitchen. Fusagi passed her the coffee bill. "What do I owe?" he asked.

Kazu entered the amount using the clunky keys of the ancient cash register. Meanwhile, Fusagi was checking his second bag, his shirt pocket, his back pocket, and every other place he could think. "That's odd. My wallet," he muttered. It seemed he had come to the cafe without his wallet. After looking in the same places again and again, he still couldn't find it. He looked visibly upset, close to tears even.

Then Kotake unexpectedly produced a wallet and held it in front of him. "Here." It was a well-worn men's leather wallet folded in half, bulging with what appeared to be a wad of receipts. He paused for a moment, staring at the wallet presented before him. He seemed genuinely in a daze. Finally, he took the wallet offered to him without a word.

"How much?" he asked while furrowing into the coin purse as if it was a familiar habit.

Kotake said nothing. She simply stood behind Fusagi, watching over him as he went about paying.

"380 yen." Fusagi pulled out one coin and handed it to Kazu.

"Okay," receiving 500 yen. Kazu took the money, entered it into the cash register. "Cha-ching." She pulled the change from the drawer. "That's 120 yen change." Kazu carefully placed the change and receipt in Fusagi's hand.

"Thank you for the coffee," he said. Putting the change carefully in his wallet, he stowed the wallet in his bag, having seemingly forgotten that Kotake was there, and he quickly headed for the door. "Clang dong."

Kotake seemed not in the least bothered by his attitude. "Thank you," she said simply, and followed on after him. "Clang Dong."

"They were rather odd," Fumiko muttered. Kazu cleared the table where Fusagi had sat and disappeared once more into the kitchen. The sudden appearance of arrival had upset Fumiko. But now that only she and the woman in the dress remained, she felt sure that victory would be hers. "Right, the competition's gone. Now I just need to wait for her to vacate the seat," she thought.

Yet the cafe had no windows, and the three wall clocks each showed different times. Without customers coming and going, her sense of time was becoming frozen. Starting to doze off a little, she reeled off the rules for returning to the past.

The first rule: the only people one may meet while back in the past are those who have visited the cafe. Fumiko's parting conversation with Goro just happened to have taken place in this cafe.

The second rule: no matter how hard one tries while back in the past, one cannot change the present. In other words, even if Fumiko returned to that day one week earlier and pleaded for Goro not to go, the fact that he had left for America would not change. She didn't understand why it should be so and she could feel herself getting upset again thinking about it, but resigned. She accepted it, given it was the rule.

The third rule: in order to return to the past, you have to sit in that seat and that seat alone. This was the seat occupied by the woman in the dress. If you try to sit there by force, you get cursed.

The fourth rule: while back in the past, you must stay in the seat and never move from it. In other words, for some reason or other, you couldn't go to the toilet while back in the past.

The fifth rule: there is a time limit. Now that she thought about it, Fumiko still hadn't been told the details of this one. She had no idea how long or short this time was.

Fumiko thought about these rules over and over. Her thoughts went back and forth. She went from thinking that going back in time was going to be rather pointless to thinking that she may as well take charge of that conversation and say everything she wanted to. After all, it couldn't hurt, could it? If it was not going to change the present.

Fumiko went over each rule again and again until finally, slumped on the table, she drifted off to sleep.

The first time Fumiko learned of Goro's dream future was when she dragged him out of their third date. Goro was a gaming geek. He loved those MMORPGs, massively multiplayer online role-playing games, which he played on a PC. His uncle was one of the developers of an MMO RPG called Arm of Magic, a game that was popular around the world. Ever since he was a boy, Goro had looked up to his uncle. It was Goro's dream to join the game company his uncle ran, TIPG. To qualify for the selection exam for TIPG, it was mandatory to have two things: one, at least 5 years' experience working as a systems engineer in the medical industry, and two, a new, unreleased game program that you had personally developed. Human lives depend on the reliability of systems in the medical industry, and bugs are not tolerated. In the online gaming industry, on the other hand, people put up with bugs, as it's possible to apply updates even after the release. TIPG was different. It only recruited candidates with experience in the medical industry to ensure that only the best programmers were hired. When Goro was telling Fumiko about this, she thought it was a wonderful dream. But what she didn't know was that TIPG had its headquarters in America.

On their seventh date, Fumiko was waiting for Goro to arrive at their meeting point when a couple of men started talking to her. They were chatting her up. They were good-looking, but she was not interested. Men were always trying to pick her up, and so she had developed a technique for dealing with this. Before she could put it to use, Goro arrived and stood there looking uncomfortable. Fumiko rushed up to him, but the two men reacted, sneered at Goro, and asked her why she was with that dweeb. She had no choice but to begin her spiel. Goro lowered his head and didn't say anything, but she faced the two men and said in English, "You guys don't know his appeal." In Russian, he's brave enough to take on difficult tasks at work. In French, he has the mental discipline not to give up. In Greek, he has the skill to render the impossible possible. In Italian, I also know he has put in extraordinary effort to be able to gain this ability. And in Spanish, his appeal is far greater than any other man I know. Then in Japanese, she said, "If you understood what I just said, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you." Visibly stunned, the two men at first stood motionless. Then they looked at each other and moved on awkwardly. Fumiko smiled broadly at Goro. "Naturally, I suppose you understood everything I said," she said, this time in Portuguese. Showing his embarrassment, Goro gave a small nod.

On the 10th date, Goro confessed that he had never been in a relationship with a woman before. "Oh, so I'm the first woman you've gone out with?" Fumiko said happily. It was the first time she had confirmed that they were actually an item. And Goro's eyes widened at the news. You could say that night marked the start of their relationship.

Fumiko had been asleep for a while now. Suddenly, the woman in the dress slammed shut the book she was reading and sighed. After pulling out a white handkerchief from her handbag, she slowly stood up and began walking towards the toilet. Still asleep, Fumiko hadn't noticed that she had left.

Kazu appeared from the back room. She was still wearing her uniform: a white shirt, black bow tie, waistcoat, black trousers, and an apron. While she was clearing the table, she called out to Fumiko, "Madam! Madam!"

"What?"

"Yes." Fumiko sat bolt upright in surprise. She blinked her eyes and looked around the cafe until finally she spotted the change. "The woman in the dress was gone."

"Oh, the seat is free now. Do you wish to sit there?"

"Of course I do," Fumiko said. She got up in a hurry and walked over to the seat that promised to transport her to the past. It looked like a normal chair. Nothing out of the ordinary about it. As she stood there staring at it with intense desire, her heartbeat quickened. Finally, after getting over all the rules and the curse, she had her ticket to the past.

"Okay, now take me back in time by one week." Fumiko took a deep breath. She calmed her racing heart and carefully squeezed into the gap between the chair and the table. She had it in her mind that she would travel back to a week ago as soon as her bottom landed on the seat. So, her nervousness and excitement were reaching peak levels. She sat down so forcefully she almost bounced back up again.

"Okay, go back one week," she exclaimed. Her heart swelled in anticipation. She looked around the cafe. As there were no windows, there was no way of telling night from day. The three old wall clocks with their hands pointing in different directions didn't tell her the time. But something must have changed. She looked desperately around the cafe, searching for a sign that she had gone back, but she couldn't spot a single difference. If she had returned to a week earlier, Goro would be there. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"I haven't gone back, have I?" she muttered. "Don't tell me I've been a fool believing this nonsense about returning to the past." Just as she was showing signs of falling apart, Kazu appeared next to her carrying a silver tray upon which was a silver kettle and a white coffee cup.

"I haven't gone back yet," Fumiko blurted out.

Kazu's expression was deadpan as always. "There is one more rule," she said coolly.

"Damn, there was another one." It would take more than simply sitting in the chair. Fumiko was beginning to get fed up. "There are still more rules," she said. Yet at the same time, she felt relieved. It meant that going back to the past was still on the cards.

Kazu continued her explanation without showing the slightest interest in how Fumiko was feeling. "In a moment, I am going to pour you a cup of coffee," she said as she set a cup in front of Fumiko.

"Coffee? Why coffee?"

"Your time in the past will begin from the time the coffee is poured," Kazu said, ignoring the question from Fumiko, who was nevertheless reassured by the news it would be happening soon. "And you must return before the coffee goes cold."

Fumiko's confidence vanished in a flash. "What? That soon?" The last and the most important rule.

"The talking never ends." Fumiko was itching to go. "Too many rules," she muttered as she gripped the coffee cup placed before her. The vessel was quite unremarkable, just a cup which had not yet had coffee poured into it. But she thought it felt noticeably cooler than the usual porcelain.

"Are you listening?" Kazu continued. "When you return to the past, you must drink the entire cup before the coffee goes cold."

"Uh, I don't actually like coffee that much."

Kazu opened her eyes wider and brought her face an inch or so from the tip of Fumiko's nose. "This is the one rule you have to absolutely obey," she said in a low voice.

"Really? If you don't, something terrible will happen to you."

"What?" Fumiko felt uneasy. It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting something like this. Traveling in time meant violating the laws of nature, which obviously entailed risk. But she couldn't believe the timing of Kazu's announcement. A sinkhole had just opened up on the final straight to the finish line. Not that she was going to get cold feet. Not after she had come this far. She looked apprehensively into Kazu's eyes.

"What? What will happen if you don't drink all the coffee before it gets cold?"

"If I don't drink the coffee, it will be your turn to be the ghost sitting in this seat." A bolt of lightning went off inside Fumiko's head. "Seriously? The woman who was sitting there just now broke that rule?"

"Yes. She had gone to meet her dead husband. She must have lost track of the time when she finally noticed the coffee had gone cold and she became a ghost."

"Yes, this is riskier than I imagined." Fumiko thought there were lots of annoying rules. To have met a ghost and to have been cursed was extraordinary, but now the stakes were even higher. "Okay, I can return to the past yet. I only have until just before my coffee goes cold. I have no idea how long it takes for a hot coffee to go cold. It's not going to be that long, though. At least it'll be long enough to drink my coffee, even if it tastes awful. So, I don't have to worry about that. But say I don't drink it and I turn into a ghost, that's pretty worrying. Now let's assume I am not going to change the present by going back to the past. No matter how much I try, there's no risk there. There are probably no pluses, but there are no minuses either. Turning into a ghost, on the other hand, is a definite minus."

Fumiko felt herself wavering. She was assailed by countless worries, the most immediate of which was that the coffee that Kazu poured would be revolting. She felt she should be able to handle the taste of coffee. But what if it's really peppery? What if it was wasabi-flavored coffee? How could I possibly drink an entire cup of that? Realizing her thoughts were becoming paranoid, she shook her head to try to dispel the wave of anxiety that had come over her.

"Fine, I just have to drink the coffee before it gets cold, right?"

"Yes." Her mind was made up, or more accurately, a stubborn resolve had taken root. Kazu just stood there impassively. Fumiko could imagine that if she had instead told her, "Sorry, I can't go through with this," her reaction would have been the same. She briefly closed her eyes, placed her clenched fists on her lap, and drew in a deep breath through her nostrils as if trying to center herself.

"I'm ready," she announced. She looked Kazu in the eye. "Please pour the coffee."

Giving a small nod, Kazu picked up the silver kettle from the tray with her right hand. She looked at Fumiko demurely. "Just remember, drink the coffee before it gets cold," she whispered.

Kazu began to pour the coffee into the cup. She gave off an air of nonchalance, but her fluid and graceful movements made Fumiko feel like she was observing an ancient ceremony. Just as Fumiko noticed the shimmering steam rising from the coffee that filled the cup, everything around the table also began to curl up and become indistinguishable from the swirling vapor. She began to feel fear and closed her eyes. The sensation that she was shimmering and becoming distorted like the rising steam became even more powerful. She clenched her fists tighter. "If this continues, I won't find myself in the present or the past. I'll simply vanish in a wisp of smoke."

As this anxiety engulfed her, she brought to mind the first time she met Goro.

Fumiko first met Goro 2 years ago in the spring. She was 26, 3 years older than him, and stationed at a client company. Goro had been posted to the same place but worked for another company. Fumiko was the project director and in charge of all visiting employees. Fumiko never held back if she had something critical to say, even if it was to a superior. She had even gone as far as to get into arguments with senior colleagues, but no one ever spoke critically of her. She was always honest and direct, and her willingness to spare no effort in her work was well admired. Although Goro was 3 years her junior, he gave the impression of someone in their 30s. To be blunt, he looked much older than he was. At first, Fumiko had felt junior to him and spoke to him in a polite manner accordingly. Furthermore, even though Goro was the youngest in the team, he was the most competent. He was a highly skilled engineer who went about his work silently, and Fumiko saw she could depend on him.

The project Fumiko was leading was almost finished. But just before the delivery date, a serious bug was discovered – there was an error or flaw in the program. And when programming for medical systems, even seemingly trivial bugs are serious. Delivery of the system in this state was impossible. But finding the cause of a bug is like distilling and removing a drop of ink that has fallen in a 25m swimming pool. Not only were they facing a daunting and enormous task, they didn't have enough time to do it. As she was the project director, the responsibility to fulfill the conditions of delivery fell on her shoulders. Delivery was due in one week. As the general consensus was that it would take at least a month to fix the bug, everyone was resigned to missing the deadline. Fumiko thought she would have to tender her resignation.

Amid this turmoil, Goro disappeared from the project work site without telling anyone, and no one could get hold of him. One snide comment led to another, and soon everyone suspected that the bug was his fault. People speculated that he must be feeling so ashamed that he couldn't show his face. Of course, there was nothing concrete to suggest that it had been his mistake. It was simply that if the project was going to be liable for a big loss, it was convenient for it to be someone's fault. As he was the one who was missing, he became the scapegoat. And naturally, Fumiko was among those who suspected him.

But on the fourth day of no contact, he suddenly appeared with the news that he had found the bug. He hadn't shaved and he didn't smell very nice, but no one even considered giving him a hard time for that. Judging by his exhausted face, he probably hadn't even slept. While every other member of the team, including Fumiko, had decided it was too difficult and simply given up, Goro had succeeded in solving the problem. It was nothing less than a miracle. By taking leave without permission and not contacting anyone about it, he had violated basic rules that applied to any company employee. Yet, he had demonstrated a commitment to his work that was greater than anyone else's, and he had succeeded as a programmer where no one else could.

After Fumiko expressed her heartfelt gratitude and apologized for thinking, even for an instant, that it was his mistake, Goro simply smiled as she bowed her head. "All right, then. Perhaps you could buy me a coffee," he said. That was the moment Fumiko fell in love.

After successfully delivering the system, their new postings were at different companies, and she hardly saw him. But she believed in getting things done. Whenever she could spare the time, she would take him to different places, each on the pretext of buying him a coffee. Goro's approach to work was obsessive. When he started working towards a goal, he wouldn't see anything else. Fumiko first learned that TIPG had its headquarters in America when she visited his home. He talked so enthusiastically about working for TIPG, and it made her worry. "When his dream comes true, which will he choose, his dream or me?" "I mustn't think like that. There's no comparison." But gosh, then little by little, it became clearer to her how big a loss it would be. She could no longer bring herself to try to ascertain how he felt about her.

Time passed, and that spring, he finally got an offer to work at TIPG. His dream had come true. Fumiko's anxiety was justified. Goro had chosen to go to America. He had chosen his dream. She had learned this a week ago at this cafe.

Now she opened her eyes, feeling disoriented, as if waking from a dream. The sensation that she was a spirit shimmering and swirling like steam now left her, and she began to regain awareness of her limbs. In a panic, she felt her body and face to make sure it was herself who had appeared. When she came to her senses, a man was there before her, watching her strange behavior, puzzled. It was Goro, unless she was mistaken. Goro, who was meant to be in America, was there before her eyes. She really had returned to the past. She understood the puzzlement on his face. There was no doubt she had returned to a week ago. The inside of the cafe was just how she remembered it. The man called Fusagi had a magazine spread out on the table closest to the door. Kotake was sitting at the counter, and Kazu was there. And opposite her was Goro at the same table where they had been. But just one thing was wrong: the seat in which Fumiko sat. A week ago, she had been sitting facing Goro. Now, however, she was in the seat of the woman in the dress. She was still facing Goro, but they were now one table apart.

"He's so far away." His puzzled look was completely justified. But unnatural or not, she couldn't leave her seat. That was one of the rules. But what if he asks why I am sitting here? What should I say? Fumiko gulped at the thought.

"Oh gosh, is that the time? Sorry, I have to go." Goro may have looked perplexed, but despite their now unnatural seating positions, he had said the exact words she had heard a week ago. This must be an unspoken rule when traveling back to the past.

"Uh, that's okay. That's okay. You don't have any more time, do you? I don't have much time either."

"What?"

"Sorry." They weren't on the same page, and the conversation wasn't going anywhere. Although she knew the moment she had returned to, Fumiko was still confused. It was, after all, the first time she had returned to the past.

To give herself time to settle, she took a sip of the coffee while looking up from under her brows to observe Goro's expression. "Oh no, the coffee is already lukewarm. It will be cold in no time." Fumiko was dismayed. At this temperature, she could already have gulped it down. This was an unexpected setback. She scowled at Kazu. She hated the way Kazu permanently wore such a deadpan expression. But that was not all. "So bitter." The taste was even bitter than she had anticipated. It was the bitterest coffee she had ever drunk.

Goro looked confused at hearing Fumiko's strange utterance. Rubbing above his right eyebrow, Goro looked at his watch. He was worried about the time. Fumiko understood that. She was in a hurry, too.

"Um, I have something important to say," she said hurriedly. Fumiko shoveled sugar into her cup from the sugar pot placed in front of her. Then, after adding a fair amount of milk, she clinked and clanged her cup with her spoon with her vigorous stirring.

"What?" Goro frowned. Fumiko wasn't sure if the frown was because she was adding too much sugar or because he didn't want to talk about anything important just then.

"What I mean is, I want to talk about this properly."

Goro looked at his watch. "Hang on a sec."

Fumiko took a sip of the coffee that she had sweetened. She nodded in approval. She hadn't drunk coffee until she met Goro. It had been the pretext of buying him coffee that had led to their dates. The curious side of Fumiko, who hated coffee, frantically adding a tremendous amount of sugar and milk, earned her a wry smile from Goro.

"Hey, this is a serious situation, and you're just smirking at me drinking coffee."

"No, I'm not."

"You blatantly are. You can't deny it. I can tell by looking at your face." Fumiko regretted interrupting the flow of the conversation. She had gone to the effort of returning to the past, and now it was going the same way as a week earlier. She was again chasing him away with her childish talk.

Goro got up from his seat, looking agitated. He called to Kazu behind the counter. "Excuse me, how much, please?" He reached for the bill. Fumiko knew that if she didn't do something, Goro would pay and then leave.

"Wait, it's fine. Let's leave it at that. This isn't what I came to say. What? Don't go. Why didn't you want to talk about it with me? I don't want you to go. Well, that's... I know how much your work means to you. I don't necessarily mind if you go to America. I won't stand in the way. I thought we were going to be together forever. But at least, was it only me thinking that? I wanted you to discuss it with me. You know, it's pretty despicable just deciding without talking about it. I really truly... that's just, well, you know, loved you. It makes me feel forgotten. What I wanted to say was, not that it's going to change anything. Well, I just wanted to say that."

Fumiko had planned to speak honestly. After all, it wouldn't change the present. But she couldn't say it. She felt that saying it would be to admit defeat. She would have hated herself for saying anything like, "Which do you choose, work or me?" Until she had met Goro, she had always put work first. It was the last thing she wanted to say. She also didn't want to be talking like a parody of a woman, especially to a boyfriend 3 years her junior. She had her pride. She was also perhaps jealous that his career had overtaken her own, so she hadn't spoken honestly. Anyhow, it was too late.

"Fine, then go. Whatever. It's not as if anything I say will stop you going to America." After saying this, Fumiko gulped down the rest of her coffee.

"Oh." When the cup was empty, the dizziness started again. She was once more swallowed up by a wavering and shimmering world. She began pondering. "What did I come back for exactly?"

"I never thought that I was the right man for you." She didn't know why Goro would be saying this. "When you invited me for coffee," he continued, "I always said to myself that I mustn't fall for you."

"What? Because I have this." He ran his fingers through his fringe, which had been combed down to cover the right side of his forehead. He revealed the large burn scar that spread from his right eyebrow to his right ear. "Before I met you, I always thought women found me repulsive and I couldn't even talk to them. I even after we started dating. It never even bothered me," shouted Fumiko. But she had become one with the vapor and her words didn't reach him. "I thought that it was only a matter of time before you started liking other better-looking guys."

"Never."

"How can you think that?"

"I always thought that..."

"Never." It was a shock for Fumiko to hear him confess this for the first time, but now that he mentioned it, it seemed to make sense. The more she loved him and the more she thought about marriage, the more she could sense some kind of invisible barrier. When she asked if he loved her, he would nod, but he never said the words, "I love you." When they walked down the street together, Goro would look down sometimes, almost apologetically, and stroke his right eyebrow. Goro had also noticed that men walking down the street were always gawking at her. Surely, he hadn't been hung up on that. Yet, as she thought that, Fumiko regretted her own thoughts. While she saw it as his little hang-up, for him, it was a painful, long-standing complex.

"I had no idea he felt that way." Fumiko's awareness was fading. Her body was engulfed in a wavering, dizzy sensation. Goro had picked up the bill and was making his way to the cash register with his bag in his hand.

"Nothing about the present is going to change. It's right that it's not going to change. He made the right choice. Achieving his dream is worth much more to him than I am. I guess I have to give up on Goro." Fumiko was slowly closing her bloodshot eyes when...

"3 years." Goro said with his back to her. "Please wait 3 years, then I'll return. I promise." It was a faint voice, but the cafe was small. Although now only vapor, Fumiko could clearly hear Goro's voice.

"When I return," Goro touched his right eyebrow out of habit and with his back to Fumiko said something else that was too muffled to hear.

"Huh? What?"

At that moment, Fumiko's awareness of that place became shimmering steam. Just as she was slipping away, Fumiko saw Goro's face as he glanced back before leaving the cafe. She saw his face for only a split second, but he was smiling wonderfully, just like the time when he had said, "Perhaps you could buy me a coffee."

When she came to, Fumiko was sitting in the seat alone in the cafe. She felt as if she had just had a dream, but the coffee cup in front of her was empty. Her mouth still had a sweet taste in it. Just then, the woman in the dress returned from the toilet. When she caught Fumiko sitting in her chair, she swooped silently up to her.

"Move," she said in an eerily powerful low voice. Fumiko started. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up from the chair. The dreamlike sensation had still not dissipated. Had she really returned to the past? Going back in time didn't change the present, so it was only normal that nothing felt different.

The aroma of coffee drifted from the kitchen. Fumiko turned to look. Kazu had appeared carrying a fresh cup of coffee placed on the tray. Kazu walked past her as if nothing had happened. When she got to the woman in the dress's table, she cleared Fumiko's used cup and placed the fresh cup of coffee in front of the woman in the dress. The woman gave a small nod of acknowledgement and began to read her book.

Returning to the counter, Kazu asked casually, "How was it?"

On hearing these words, Fumiko finally felt sure that she had traveled in time. She had returned to that day one week ago. But if she had... "So I'm just thinking."

"Yes."

"It doesn't change the present, right?"

"That's right."

"But what about the things that happen later?"

"I'm not sure what you're saying."

"From now on," Fumiko chose her words. "From now on, what about the future?"

Kazu looked straight at Fumiko. "Well, as the future hasn't happened yet, I guess that's up to you," she said, revealing a smile for the first time. Fumiko's eyes lit up.

Kazu stood in front of the cash register. "Coffee service plus late night surcharge, that's 420 yen please," she said quietly. Fumiko gave a big nod and went towards the cash register. She felt light-footed. After paying 420 yen, Fumiko looked Kazu in the eye. "Thank you," she said and bowed her head low. Then after looking around the entire cafe, she once again bowed, not to anyone in particular, more to the cafe itself. Then she walked out of the cafe without a care. "Clang dong."

Kazu started entering the money into the cash register with her deadpan expression as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The woman in the dress gave a slight smile as she quietly closed the book, a novel titled The Lovers. Chapter 2, Husband and Wife.

The cafe has no air conditioning. It opened in 1874, more than 140 years ago. Back then, people still used oil lamps for light. Over the years, the cafe underwent a few small renovations, but its interior today is pretty much unchanged from its original look. When it opened, the decor must have been considered very avant-garde. The commonly accepted date for the appearance of the modern cafe in Japan is around 1888, a whole 14 years later. Coffee was introduced to Japan in the Edo period, around the late 17th century. Initially, it didn't appeal to Japanese taste buds, and it was certainly not thought of as something one drank for enjoyment, which was no wonder considering it tasted like black bitter water. When electricity was introduced, the cafe switched the oil lamps for electric lights. But installing an air conditioner would have destroyed the charm of the interior. So, to this day, the cafe has no air conditioning. But every year, summer comes around. When midday temperatures soar to above 30°, you would expect a shop, even one that is underground, to be sweltering inside. The cafe does have a large-bladed ceiling fan, which, being electric, must have been added later. But a ceiling fan like this one doesn't generate a strong breeze and simply serves to make the air circulate. The hottest temperature ever recorded in Japan was 41°C at Akawasaki in Kochi Prefecture. It is difficult to imagine a ceiling fan being at all useful in such heat. But even in the height of summer, this cafe is always pleasantly cool. Who's keeping it cool? Beyond the staff, no one knows, nor will they ever know.

It was an afternoon in summer. It was only early in the season, but the temperature outside was as high as on any midsummer day. Inside the cafe, a young woman seated at the counter was busy writing. Next to her was an iced coffee diluted by melting ice. The woman was dressed for summer in a white frilled t-shirt, a tight gray miniskirt, and strappy sandals. She sat with her back straight as her pen raced across the cherry blossom pink letter paper. Standing behind the counter, a slender woman of pale complexion looked on, her eyes filled with a youthful sparkle. It was Kazu. To Tokita, and the contents of the letter had no doubt piqued her curiosity. Occasionally she would take sneak peeks with a look of childlike fascination on her face. Apart from the woman at the counter who was writing the letter, the other customers in the cafe were the woman in the white dress sitting in that chair and the man named Fusagi who was sitting at the table seat closest to the entrance. Once again, he had a magazine opened on the table.

The woman writing the letter drew a deep breath. Kazu followed by taking a deep breath herself.

"Sorry for being here so long," the woman said, inserting her finished letter in an envelope.

"Not at all," Kazu said fleetingly, glancing down at her feet. "Um, do you think you could pass this to my sister?" The woman was grasping the letter-filled envelope with two hands and presenting it to Kazu politely. Her name was Kumi Hiiragi. She was the younger sister of the cafe regular Yayiko Hiiragi.

"Ah, well, if I know your sister..." Kazu thought the better of continuing and bit her lip. Kumi tilted her head slightly and gave Kazu an inquisitive look, but Kazu simply smiled as if she meant nothing by it. "Okay, I'll pass it on to her," she said, looking at the letter Kumi was holding.

Kumi hesitated a little. "I know she might not even read it, but if you could," she said, bowing her head low. Kay assumed a correct and polite stance. "Of course, I will," she said, acting as if she was being entrusted with something extremely important. She received the letter with both hands and made a courteous bow while Kumi moved to the cash register.

"How much?" Kumi asked, handing Kay the bill. Kay carefully placed the letter on the counter. She took the bill and began punching the keys of the cash register. This cafe's cash register had to be a contender for the oldest one still in use. Although it hadn't been in the cafe right from the beginning, its keys were much like those of a typewriter, and it was introduced to the cafe at the beginning of the Showa period in about 1925. This was a very solidly built cash register designed to prevent theft. Its frame alone weighed about 40 kg. It made a noisy clank each time a key was punched. Coffee and toast, curry rice and mix parfait. Clank clank clank clank clank clank. Kay rhythmically punched in the amounts of each order. Ice cream soda, pizza toast. Kumi certainly seemed to have eaten a lot. In fact, not everything fitted on one bill. Kay began punching in the orders of the second bill. Curry pilaf, banana float, cutlet curry. Normally it's not necessary to read out each item, but Kay didn't mind doing it. The sight of her punching in the amounts resembled a child happily immersed in playing with a toy. Then there was the gorgonzola and chicken and pilaf cream pasta.

"I sort of pigged out, didn't I?" said Kumi in a rather loud voice, perhaps a little embarrassed at having everything read out. "Please, you don't have to read it all out." Was probably what she wanted to say.

"You certainly did." Of course, it wasn't Kay who said this. It was Fusagi. Having heard the order being read out, he had muttered this softly while he continued to read his magazine. Kay ignored him, but Kumi's ears went a rosy pink.

"How much?" Kumi asked. But Kay had not finished. "Ah, let's see. Then there was the mixed sandwich, grilled onigiri, second curry rice, and uh, the iced coffee. Comes to a total of 10,230 yen." Kay smiled, her round, sparkling eyes showing nothing but kindness.

"Okay then, here you go," Kumi said, and she quickly pulled out two notes from her purse. Kay took the notes and counted them efficiently. "Receiving 11,000 yen," she said, and again she punched the keys of the cash register. Kumi waited with her head hung low. "Chaching!" The cash drawer opened with a jolt and Kay pulled out the change. "That's 770 yen change." Smiling once again with her round eyes sparkling, Kay gave Kumi the change. Kumi bowed her head politely. "Thank you. It was delicious." Perhaps because she was embarrassed that all the things she had eaten had been read aloud, Kumi now seemed eager to leave quickly. But just as she was going, Kay called out to stop her.

"Um, Kumi," she said. Kumi stopped in her tracks and looked back at her. "About your sister," Kay said and glanced down at her feet. "Is there any message you would like me to give her?" She held both hands up in the air as she asked.

"No, it's okay. I wrote it in the letter," Kumi said without hesitation.

"Yes, I imagine you did." Kay furrowed her brows, if disappointed. Perhaps touched that Kay showed such concern, Kumi grinned and said after a moment's thought, "Perhaps there is one thing you could say."

"Yes, of course." Kay's expression brightened instantly. "Tell her that neither dad nor mom is angry anymore."

"Your father and mother aren't angry anymore?" Kay repeated.

"Yes, please tell her that." Kay's eyes were once again round and sparkling. She nodded twice. "Okay, I will," she said happily. Kumi looked around the cafe and once more bowed politely to Kay before she left. "Clang dong."

Kay went over to the entrance to check that Kumi had gone and then with a quick pirouette she started talking to the vacant counter. "Did you have a fight with your parents?"

"Then from under the supposedly vacant counter, a husky voice answered." "They disowned me," Hidai said, emerging from under the counter.

"But you heard her, right? Heard what? Bet your father and mother aren't cross anymore."

"I'll believe that when I see it." After being crouched under the counter for a really long time, Hidai was bent over like an old woman; she hobbled out into the room. As always, she had her curlers in. She was dolled up in a leopard print chemise, a tight pink skirt, and beach sandals.

"Hi," wincingly a little. "Your sister seems really nice."

"When you're not in my position, I'm sure she is."

"Yeah." Hidai sat on the counter seat where Kumi had been sitting. She plucked a cigarette from her leopard print pouch and lit it. A plume of smoke rose into the air. Following it with her eyes, Yayai's face showed a rare vulnerability. She looked as if her thoughts had drifted somewhere far away.

Kay walked around Hidai to take her position behind the counter. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Hi blew another plume of smoke. "She resents me."

"What do you mean she resents you?" Kay asked.

"She didn't want it passed down to her." Huh? Kay tilted her head sideways, unsure what Hidai was talking about. The inn. The inn her family ran was a well-known luxury place in Sai, Miyagi Prefecture. Her parents had planned for Hi to take over the inn, but she had a falling out with them 13 years earlier, and it was decided that Kumi would be the successor. Her parents were in good health, but they were getting on in years, and as the future manager, Kumi had already taken over many...

of the inn's responsibilities. Since Kumi had accepted she would take over, she regularly made the trek to Tokyo to visit Hayi and tried to persuade her to come home.

"I keep telling her I don't want to go home, but she keeps on asking time and time and time again." Hi bent the fingers of both hands one by one as if she was counting the times. Saying that she was persistent would be an understatement.

"But you don't have to hide from her."

"I don't want to see it."

"See what?"

"Her face." Kay tilted her head inquisitively. "I see it written on her face. Because of what I did, she is now going to be the owner of an inn she doesn't want to run. She wants me to come home so that she can be free."

Hedai said, "I don't really see how all that can be written on her face," Kay suggested doubtfully. Hedai knew Kay well enough to know she was probably struggling to picture this. Her very literal mind sometimes missed the point.

"What I mean," Hai said, "is it just feels like she is pressuring me." Frowning, she blew out another plume of smoke. Kay stood there thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side several times.

"Oh god, is that the time?"

"Oh dear," Hi said dramatically. She quickly stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. "I've got a bar to open." She stood up and gingerly stretched from the hips. "You sure feel it in your back after 3 hours crouched down like that." Hi thumped her lower back and headed quickly for the entrance, her beach sandals flip-flopping loudly.

"Hold on. The letter." Kay picked up the letter Kumi had given her and presented it to Hiayai.

"Throw it away," Hi said without looking, waving it away dismissively with her right hand.

"You're not going to read it?"

"I can imagine what it says. It's really tough for me by myself. Please come home. It's okay if you learn the ropes once you're there." You know, that sort of stuff.

As she spoke, Hi pulled out her dictionary-sized purse from her leopard print pouch. She put the money for the coffee on the counter. "See you later," she said and left the cafe, clearly desperate to get away.

"Clang dong."

"I can't just throw it away." Kay's face showed her dilemma as she looked at the letter from Kumi.

Clang dong. While Kay was standing frozen like this, the bell rang again and Kazu Tokita entered the cafe, taking the place of Hayai. Kazu had gone out today with Nagare, the cafe's owner, and her cousin to buy supplies. She returned carrying several shopping bags in both hands. The car key was jangling with other keys on the key ring hanging off her ring finger. She was dressed casually, wearing a t-shirt and blue jeans. This was in stark contrast to the bow tie and apron she wore when she was working.

"Welcome back," smiled Kay, still holding the letter.

"Sorry we took so long."

"No, it was fine. It was pretty quiet. I'll get changed right away." Kazu's face was always more expressive before she put on her bow tie. She stuck out her tongue cheekily and darted into the back room.

Kay kept holding the letter. "Where's that damned husband of mine?" she called out to the back room, looking at the entrance.

Kazu and Nagare did the shopping together. This wasn't because there was so much to buy, but because Nagare was a difficult shopper. He would get so caught up with wanting to buy the best that he would often go over budget. It was Kazu's job to tag along and make sure he didn't. While they were gone, Kay handled the cafe alone. Sometimes when Nagare was unable to find the ingredients he wanted, he would get in a stink and go out drinking. He said he would probably be late coming back.

Kazu said, "Oh, I bet he's gone out drinking again." Kazu poked her head out. "I'll take over now," she said apologetically.

"I don't believe that man," Kay said, puffing out her cheeks. She retreated to the back room, still holding the letter.

The only people left in the cafe were the woman in the dress, quietly reading her novel, and Wagi. Despite it being summer, they were both drinking hot coffee. There were two reasons for this. Firstly, you received free refills with hot coffee. And secondly, the coffee being hot didn't bother these two customers as it was always cool inside the cafe and they sat there for so long anyway.

Kazu soon reappeared, dressed in her normal waitress's uniform. Summer had only just begun, but today it was over 30° outside. She had walked less than 100 meters from the car park, but the sweat still beaded on her face. She exhaled sharply while wiping her brow with a handkerchief.

"Um, excuse me," said Fouseagi, who had lifted his head from his magazine.

"Yes," said Kazu, as if something had surprised her. "May I have a refill, please?"

"Oh, sure." She let her usual cool demeanor slip and replied in the casual tone she had used while wearing a t-shirt just earlier.

Fusagi had his eyes glued on Kazu as she walked into the kitchen. When he came to the cafe, Fusagi always sat in the same chair. If another customer was sitting there, he would leave rather than sit anywhere else. Rather than coming every day, he normally made an appearance two or three times a week, sometime after lunch. He would open up his travel magazine and look through it from cover to cover while occasionally jotting down notes. He would usually stay as long as it took to finish the magazine. The only thing he ever ordered was a hot coffee.

The coffee served at the cafe was made from mocha beans grown in Ethiopia, which have a distinct aroma, but it didn't appeal to everybody's tastes. Though it was deliciously aromatic, some found its bitter fruiness and complex overtones a little overbearing. On Nagare's insistence, the cafe only served mocha. Fusagi happened to like this coffee and he seemed to find the cafe a comfortable space to leisurely read his magazine.

Kazu returned from the kitchen holding the glass carff to pour Fusagi his refill. Standing by his table, Kazu picked up the cup by the saucer. Fouseagi would normally continue to read his magazine while waiting for her to pour his refill, but today was different. He looked directly at her with a strange expression. Sensing that his manner was different from usual, she thought he must want something else besides the coffee refill.

"Is there anything else?" she asked with a smile. He smiled at her politely, looking a little embarrassed.

"Are you a new waitress here?" he asked. Her expression didn't change as she placed the cup in front of Husagi. "Uh h," was all that she replied.

"Oh, really?" He replied a little bashfully. He seemed pleased to have communicated to the waitress that he was a regular customer, but satisfied with that, he immediately lowered his head and returned to reading his magazine. Kazu went about her work with a dead pan expression as if nothing was out of the ordinary. But with no other customers, there was not much to do. Her only work at that moment was wiping some washed glasses and plates with a tea towel and returning them to the shelf. As she went about this task, she started talking to Fouseagi. In this small intimate cafe, it was quite easy to hold a conversation from such a distance without raising one's voice.

"So, do you come here often?" He lifted his head. "Yes," she went on. "Do you know about this place? Have you heard its urban legend?"

"Yes, I know all about it. About that seat as well?"

"Yes. So, are you one of those customers planning on going back in time?"

"Yes, I am," he replied without hesitation.

She let her hands pause briefly. "If you return to the past, what are you planning to do?" But realizing the question was too intrusive and not something she would normally ask, she immediately backtracked. "That was a rude thing to ask. I'm sorry." She bowed her head and returned to her wiping, avoiding his gaze.

He looked at her with her head bowed and quietly picked up his zipped portfolio. From it, he pulled out a plain brown envelope. Its four corners were crumpled as though he had been carrying it around for a long time. There was no address on the envelope, but it looked like a letter. He held this letter tentatively in both hands, holding it up a little in front of his chest for her to see.

"What's that?" she asked, pausing once again in what she was doing.

"For my wife," he muttered in a quiet voice. "It's for my wife."

"Is that a letter?"

"Yeah. For your wife?"

"Yeah. I never managed to give it to her."

"So, you want to return to the day you meant to pass it on to her?"

"Yeah, that's right," he answered once again without any hesitation.

"So, where is your wife now?" she asked. Rather than answering straight away, he paused in awkward silence. "Um..." she stood looking squarely at him, waiting for him to answer. "I don't know," he said in a barely discernible voice as he began to scratch his head. After this admission, his expression hardened. She said nothing in reply. Then, as if offering an excuse, he said, "H, but I really had a wife." And then he hastily added, "Her name was." He began tapping his head with his finger. "Huh, that's odd." He tilted his head. "What was her name?" he said and went quiet again.

At some time during this, Kay had returned from the back room. Her face looked drained. Maybe because she had just witnessed Kazu and Fouseagi's exchange.

"Well, that's odd. I'm sorry," Fouseagi said, forcing an awkward smile. Kazu's face showed a subtle mix of emotions. It wasn't quite her normal cool expression, but nor was she showing much empathy.

"Don't worry about it," she said.

Clang dong. Kazu silently looked to the entrance. Ah. She gasped when she saw Kotake standing in the doorway. Kotake worked as a nurse at the local hospital. She must have been on her way home. Instead of her nurse's uniform, she was wearing an olive green tunic and navy blue capri pants. She had a black shoulder bag on one shoulder, and she was wiping the sweat from her brow with a lilac handkerchief.

Kotake casually acknowledged Kay and Kazu standing behind the counter before walking up to Fouseagi's table. "Hello, Fusagi. I see you're here again today," she said. Hearing his name, he looked up at Kotake in puzzlement before averting his eyes and lowering his head in silence. Kotake sensed that his mood was different from usual. She supposed he might not be feeling very well.

"Aagi, are you okay?" she asked gently. Fusagi lifted his head and looked directly at her.

"I'm sorry. Have we met before?" he asked apologetically. Kotake lost her smile. In a cold silence, the lilac handkerchief she had just used to wipe her brow dropped from her hand onto the floor.

Fouseagi had early onset Alzheimer's disease and was losing his memory. The disease causes rapid depletion of the brain's neural cells. The brain pathologically atrophies causing loss of intelligence and changes to the personality. One of the striking symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's is how the deterioration of brain functions appear so sporadic. Sufferers forget some things but remember other things. In Fagi's case, his memories were gradually disappearing, starting with the most recent. Meanwhile, his previously hardto please personality had been slowly mellowing. In that moment, Fouseagi remembered that he had a wife, but he didn't remember that Kotake standing before him was his wife.

"I guess not," Kotake said quietly as she took one then two steps back. Kazu stared at Kotake while Kay pointed her pale face down at the floor. Kotake slowly turned round and walked to the seat at the counter that was the furthest from Fouseagi and sat down. It was after sitting down that she noticed the handkerchief that had dropped from her hand. She decided to ignore it and pretend it wasn't hers. But Fouseagi noticed the handkerchief which had fallen near his feet and picked it up. He stared at it in his hand for a while and then he rose from his chair and walked over to the counter where Kotake was sitting.

"You'll have to excuse me. Recently, I've been forgetting a lot," he said, bowing his head. Kotake didn't look at him.

"Okay," she said. She took the handkerchief in her trembling hand. Fusagi bowed his head again and shuffled awkwardly back to his seat. He sat down but couldn't relax. After turning several pages of his magazine, he paused and scratched his head. Then, a few moments later, he reached for his coffee and took one sip. The cup had only just been refilled. But, "Damn, coffeey's cold," he muttered.

"Another refill?" Kazu asked, but he stood up in a hurry. "I'll be leaving now," he said abruptly, closing his magazine and putting away his things. Kotake continued to stare at the floor with her hands on her lap as she clenched the handkerchief tightly. Fusagi moved to the cash register and handed over the bill.

"How much?"

"380 yen, please," Kazu said, glancing sideways at Kotake. She punched in the amount on the cash register keys.

"380 yen," Fusagi pulled out a,000 yen note from his well-worn leather wallet. "Right. Here's a,000," he said as he handed the note over.

"receiving 1,000 yen," Kazu said, taking the money and punching the cash register keys. Fusagi kept glancing at Kotake, but with no apparent purpose. He appeared to be just restlessly looking around while waiting for the change.

"That 620 change." Fusagi quickly reached out his hand and took the change. "Thanks for the coffee," he said almost apologetically and hurried out.

Clang dong. "Thank you. Come again."

Upon Fusagi's departure, the cafe fell into an uncomfortable silence. The woman in the dress quietly read her book, unbothered as ever with what was going on around her. With no background music playing, the only sounds that could be heard were the constant ticking of the clocks and the woman in the dress occasionally turning the page of her book.

Kazu first broke this long silence. "Kotake," she said, but she was unable to find the appropriate words.

"It's okay. I have been mentally preparing for today." Kotake smiled at Kay and Kazu. "Don't worry." But after speaking, she once again looked down at the floor. She had explained Fusagi's illness to Kay and Kazu before, and Nagare and Hi knew about it, too. She had resigned herself to the fact that one day he would completely forget who she was. She was always preparing herself. "If it happens," she thought, "I will care for him as a nurse. I am a nurse, so I can do that."

Early onset Alzheimer's disease progresses differently for each individual depending on a whole range of factors which include age, gender, the cause of the illness, and the treatment. Fusagi's rate of deterioration was progressing rapidly. Kotake was still in shock from his forgetting who she was. She was struggling to get things straight in her head while the general mood was so low. She turned to Kay, but she was in the kitchen. Almost instantly, she appeared holding a half gallon bottle of sake.

"A gift from a customer?" Kay said as she put it down on the table. "Drink, anyone?" she asked with smiling eyes, still red from crying. The name on the label was seven happinesses. Kay's spurof the- moment decision had introduced a ray of light into the gloomy atmosphere and ease the tension between the three. Kotake was in two minds about drinking, but was reluctant to pass up the chance.

"Well, just one," she said. Kotake was simply thankful that the mood had changed. She had heard that Kay often acted on impulse, but she had never expected to experience her sense of fun at a moment like this. Hi had often mentioned Kay's talent for living happily. She may have looked despondent a few moments earlier, but now she was looking at Kotake with wide, bright eyes. Kotake found staring into those eyes a strangely calming experience.

"I'll see if I can find some nibbles to go with it," Kazu said, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Why don't we warm the sake?"

"No, it's okay."

"Right, we'll drink it as it is." Kay removed the lid deafly and poured the sake into the row of glasses she had set out. Kotake let out a chuckle as Kay placed a glass in front of her. "Thank you," she said with a thin smile.

Kazu returned with a tin of pickles. "This was all I could find." She put down a small dish, tipped the pickles onto it, and set three small forks on the counter.

"Oh, yum," Kay said. "But I can't drink myself." She brought out a carton of orange juice from the fridge under the counter and poured herself a glass. None of the three women were that particular about sake, especially Kay, who didn't drink. Seven happinesses earned its name from the claim that those who drank it would obtain seven different kinds of happiness. It was transparent, pigment-free, topshelf sake. The two drinkers did not take much notice of this premium sake. subtle glacial hue, nor its fruity aroma, but it went down well and delivered on the happy feeling its label promised.

As Kotake inhaled the sweet aroma, she recalled one summer day some 15 years ago when she first visited the cafe. There had been a heat wave in Japan that summer. Record temperatures were continually reported throughout the country. Day after day, the television discussed the unusual weather, often alluding to global warming. Fusagi had taken a day off from work, and they had gone shopping together. That day was a real scorcher. Hot and bothered from the heat, pleaded that they take refuge somewhere cool, and together they searched for a suitable place, like a cafe. The problem was that everyone had the same idea. None of the cafes or family restaurants they spotted had empty seats. By chance, they saw a small sign in a narrow back alley. The cafe's name was Ficuli Ficula. It was the same name as a song Kotake once knew. It was a long time since she'd heard it, but she still remembered the melody clearly. The lyrics were about climbing on a volcano. The thought of red hot lava on this hot summer day made everything seem even hotter, and jewelike beads of sweat formed on Kotake's brow. However, when they opened the heavy wooden door and entered, the cafe was refreshingly cool. The clangdong of the bell was also comforting, and even though it had three two-seater tables and a three-seater counter, the only customer there was a woman in a white dress seated furthest from the entrance. Thanks to a stroke of luck, they had made a real find.

"What a relief," Fouseagi said and chose the table closest to the entrance. He quickly ordered iced coffee from the woman with the bright eyes who brought them glasses of cold water. "Iced coffee for me too, please," Kotake said sitting opposite him. Fusagi must have been uncomfortable with this seating arrangement as he moved and sat at the counter. This didn't upset Kotake. She was used to such behavior from him. She was just thinking how wonderful it was to find such a relaxing cafe so close to the hospital where she worked. The thick pillars and the massive wooden beam that cut across the ceiling were a lustrous dark brown like the color of chestnuts. Mounted on the walls were three large wall clocks. Kotake didn't know much about antiques, but she could tell that these were from an earlier period. The walls were tan, made of earn plaster with a wonderful patina of obscure stains that had obviously built up over many years. It was daytime outside, but in this windowless cafe, there was no sense of time. Dim lighting gave the cafe a sepia hue. All this created a comforting retro atmosphere. It had been incredibly cool in the cafe, but there was no sign of an air conditioner. A woodenbladed fan fixed to the ceiling was slowly rotating, but that was all. Thinking how strange it was that this cafe was so cool, Kotake asked both Kay and Nagare about it. Neither provided satisfactory answers, they just said, "It's been like this since long ago." Kotake took a real shine to the atmosphere and to the personalities of Kay and the others. And so she began to come often during her breaks from work.

She Kazu was going to say cheers, but stopped herself, screwing up her face as if she had committed a faux paw. "I guess it's not a celebration, is it?"

"Oh, come on. Let's not be too down," Kay said glumbly. She turned to Kotake and smiled sympathetically. Kotake held up her glass in front of Kazus.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." Kotake smiled reassuringly and clinkedked glasses with her. This harmonious clink, unexpected and cheerful, sounded throughout the room. Kotake took a sip of seven happinesses. Its gentle sweetness spread through her mouth.

"It's been half a year since he started calling me by my maiden name," she said, speaking softly. "It's silently progressing, fading away, slowly but steadily fading away." his memory of me. That is," she laughed softly. "I have been mentally preparing for this, you know," she said. As Kay listened, her eyes were again slowly reening. "But it's really okay, honestly," Kotake hastened to add, waving her hand reassuringly. "Hey guys, I'm a nurse. Look, even if my identity is totally erased from his memory, I'll be part of his life as a nurse. I'll still be there for him." Kotake had put on her most confident voice to reassure Kay and Kazu. She meant what she said. She was putting on a brave face, but her bravery was real. "I can still be there for him because I'm a nurse." Kazu was playing with her glass, staring at it with a dead pan expression. Kay's eyes welled up again, and a single teardrop fell.

Flap. The sound came from behind Kotake. The woman in the dress had closed her book. Kotake turned round to see the woman in the dress placing the closed novel on the table. She took a handkerchief from her white purse, rose from the table, and headed towards the toilet. The woman in the dress walked silently. Had they not heard the novel close, they might never even have noticed she had gone. Kotaki's eyes stayed glued to her movements, but Kay just glanced at her, and Kazu took a sip of seven happinesses and didn't even look up. After all, it was just an ordinary daily occurrence for them.

"That reminds me, I wonder why Fouseagi wants to return to the past," Kotake said, staring at the seat vacated by the woman in the dress. She knew, of course, that that was the seat for returning to the past. Before the Alzheimer's disease took hold, Fusagi was not the type of person who believed in such tales. When Kotake casually mentioned the rumor that this cafe could send you back to the past, he would scoff. He didn't believe in ghosts or the paranormal. But after he started to lose his memory, the once skeptical Fouseagi started coming to the cafe and waiting for the woman in the dress to leave her seat. When Kotake first heard of this, she found it hard to believe. But personality change is one of the symptoms of Alzheimer's. And now that the disease had progressed, Fusagi had newly become very absent-minded. In light of such changes, Kotake had decided that it wasn't particularly strange that he had changed what he believed in. But why did he want to return to the past? Kotake was very curious about this. She had asked him on several occasions, but he just said, "It's a secret."

"Apparently, he wants to give you a letter," Kazu said as if reading Kotake's mind.

"Give it to me?"

"Uh-huh. A letter?"

"Fusagi said it was something he never managed to give you." Kotake was silent. Then she replied matterof factly, "I see." Uncertainty swept across Kazu's face. Kotake's reaction to this news was unexpectedly cool. Was it impertinent to have mentioned it? But Kotake's response wasn't anything to do with Kazu. The real reason for her curt response was the fact that Fouseagi having written her a letter didn't make much sense. After all, he was never any good at reading or writing. Fusagi had grown up poor in a small derelic town. His family was in the seaweed trade and every member helped out. But helping out affected his schoolwork so badly that he never learned to write anything more than hiragana and 100 or so kanji characters. Roughly what a child normally learns in the first years of elementary school.

Kotake and Fouseagi were introduced to each other via a mutual acquaintance. Kotake was 21 while Fusagi was 26. This was before everyone had mobile phones. So they communicated by landline in letters. Fouseagi wanted to be a landscape gardener and lived wherever he worked. Kotake had started nursing college which further reduced their opportunities to meet. They did communicate though by letter. Kotake wrote all kinds of things in her letters. She wrote about herself, of course. She wrote about what went on at the nursing college, of good books she had read and dreams of the future. She wrote of events which ranged from the mundane to the major news of the day explaining in detail her feelings and reactions. Sometimes the letters were as long as 10 pages. Fusagi's replies, on the other hand, were always short. There were even times when he would send oneline replies like, "Thanks for the interesting letter." or "I know just what you mean." At first, Kotake thought he must be busy with work and didn't have time to reply. But in letter after letter, Fusagi continued to give these brief replies. She took this to mean that he wasn't very interested in her. Kotake wrote in her letter that if he wasn't interested, then he shouldn't bother replying that with this letter, she would stop writing if she didn't get a reply. Fusagi normally replied within a week, but not this time. There was still nothing after a month. This was a shock to Kotake. Certainly, his replies were short, but they never sounded negative, like they had been riding out of obligation. On the contrary, they always seemed frank and genuine. So, she wouldn't give up quite yet. In fact, she was still waiting two and a half months after she had sent the ultimatum. Then one day after those two months, a letter arrived from Fouseagi. All it said was, "Let's get married." Those few words managed to move her in a way she had never felt before. But Kotake found it hard to reply properly to such a letter. Husagi having opened his heart in such a way. In the end, she simply wrote, "Yes, let's". It wasn't until later that she learned he could barely read or write. When she found out, she asked him how he managed to read all the long letters she wrote to him. Apparently, he just allowed his eyes to wander over them. Then he just wrote in his reply the vague impression he got from this gazing. But with the last letter, after casting his eyes over it, he was overcome with a feeling that he had missed something important. He read it word by word while asking different people to tell him what the words were, hence the long time it took to reply.

Kotake still looked like she couldn't believe it. "It was a brown envelope about this size," said Kazu, drawing in the air with her fingers. A brown envelope. Using a brown envelope for a letter sounded like something Fusagi would do, but it still didn't make sense to Kotake.

"A love letter perhaps," suggested Kay, her eyes sparkling innocently. Kotake smiled Riley. "No, not a chance," she said, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hands.

"But if it was a love letter, what will you do?" Kazu asked with an awkward smile. She didn't normally pry into people's private lives. But perhaps she was running with the idea it was a love letter to help get rid of the dark mood that had until then hung in the air. Also eager to change the subject, Kotake willingly accepted the love letter theory proposed by those who were unaware of how awful Fusagi was at reading and writing.

"I suppose I would want to read it," she replied with a grin. "That was no lie. If he had written her a love letter, of course she wanted to read it."

"Why not go back and see?" Kay said.

"What?" Kotake looked at Kay, her face blank with incomprehension. Kazu responded to Kay's crazy idea by hurriedly placing her glass on the counter. "Sis, seriously," she said, bringing her face close to Kay's.

"She should read it," Kay said assertively. "Kay, my love, hold on," Kotake said, trying hard to slow her down, but it was already too late. Kay was breathing heavily and was not interested in Kotake's effort to restrain her. "If it's a love letter that Fusagi wrote to you, you need to receive it." Kay was convinced it was a love letter. And as long as she had this in her mind, she wouldn't be stopped. Kotake had known her long enough to realize that. Kazu didn't look like she was particularly comfortable with where this was going, but she just sighed and smiled.

Kotake once again looked at the seat vacated by the woman in the dress. She had heard the rumor about returning to the past. She also knew about the various frustrating rules, and never, not once, had she ever contemplated going back in time herself. She was even uncertain as to whether the rumor was true. But if, say, it was true, she was now definitely interested in trying it. She wanted more than anything to know what the letter contained. If what Kazu said was right, if she was able to return to the day that Husagi had planned to give it to her, she saw a glimmer of hope that she might still get to read it. She had however a dilemma. Now that she knew Fusagi wanted to go back in time to give her a letter, was it right to go back in the past to receive it? She was in two minds. It seemed wrong to get hold of the letter that way. She took a deep breath and took stock of the current situation calmly. She remembered the rule that going back in time would not change the present, no matter how much you tried. That meant that even if she returned to the past and read that letter, nothing would change.

"It won't change," Kazu said bluntly when Kotake asked to doublech checkck. Kotake felt something large stirring in her heart. So no change to the present meant that even if she went back and took it, Fusagi would in the present still be intending to return to the past to give her the letter. She gulped down her glass of seven happinesses. It was just the thing to set her resolve. Exhaling deeply, she put the glass down on the counter.

"That's right. That's right," she muttered to herself. "If it's really a love letter written for me, how can it be a problem if I read it?" Calling it a love letter dispelled her feelings of guilt. Kay nodded vigorously in agreement and gulped down the orange juice as if to express solidarity with her. Her nostrils flared excitedly. Kazu did not join the other two in downing her drink. She quietly placed the glass on the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.

Kotake stood in front of the seat that would transport her. Feeling her blood pumping through her body, she carefully squeezed in between the chair and table and sat down. The cafe's chairs all looked like antiques, elegantly shaped with cababriel legs. The seat and back were upholstered in a moss green fabric, and Kotake suddenly saw them in a fresh light. She noticed that all the chairs were in excellent condition, as if they were brand new. It wasn't just the chairs either. The entire cafe was sparkling clean. If this cafe opened at the beginning of the Maji period, it must have been operating for more than a hundred years. Yet, there was not the slightest hint of mustustiness. She sighed in admiration. She knew that in order to keep this cafe looking this way, someone must be spending a lot of time each day cleaning. She looked to her side to see standing there Kazu, who had approached without Kotake noticing her. Standing there so quietly, there was something eerie about her appearance. She was carrying the silver tray on which there were a wide coffee cup and instead of the glass carff normally used to serve customers, a small silver kettle. Kotake's heart skipped a beat as she saw how stunning Kazu looked. Her normal girish qualities had disappeared and she now wore an expression that was both elegant and intimidatingly somber.

"You're familiar with the rules, right?" Kazu asked in a casual but distant tone. Kotake hurriedly went through the rules in her mind. The first rule was that when returning to the past, the only people one could meet were those who had visited the cafe. That's no problem for me, thought Kotake. Kusagi has visited here countless times. The second rule was that the present wouldn't be changed by returning to the past, no matter how hard one tried. Kotake had already reassured herself that this rule wasn't a problem. Of course, this did not only apply to letters. If, for example, a revolutionary treatment for Alzheimer's disease was discovered and somehow taken back to the past to be tried on Fouseagi, it would be unable to improve his condition. It seemed an unkind rule. The third rule was that in order to return to the past, one had to sit in this seat in particular. By chance, the woman in the dress had gone to the toilet just at that moment. The narrow window of opportunity was perfectly timed for Kotake to take advantage of. She had also heard, though didn't know if it was true, that if you tried to forcefully remove the woman in the dress from her seat, she would curse you. So, coincidence or not, Kotake felt lucky indeed. But the rules did not end there. The fourth rule was that when one returned to the past, it was not possible to move from the chair in which one was seated. It wasn't that you were stuck to the chair, but rather that if you did get up, you would be forcefully brought back to the present. As this cafe was in a basement, there was no mobile phone signal, hence there was no chance of going back and calling someone who wasn't there. Also, not being able to leave your seat meant you couldn't go outside. Yet another detestable rule. Kotake had heard that several years ago the cafe had become quite famous, attracting a throng of customers who all wanted to return to the past. With all these maddening rules, no wonder people stopped coming, she thought.

Kotake suddenly realized that Kazu was silently waiting for her reply. "I have to drink the coffee before it gets cold, right?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else?" There was one other thing she wanted to know. How could she make sure that she returned to the right day and time?

"You need to form a strong image of the day you want to return to," Kazu added as if reading her mind. "Simply being asked to form an image was rather vague."

"An image?" Kotake asked. "A day before Fouseagi forgot you. A day when he was thinking of passing you the letter. And a day when he brought the letter with him to the cafe. A day when he still remembered her." It was a rough guess, but she remembered a day in summer 3 years ago. It was a time before Fouseagi had shown any symptoms. A day when he meant to hand her the letter. This was difficult. If she hadn't received it, how could she know? Yet, it would be meaningless to return to a day before he'd written the letter. She decided she should simply visualize an image of Fusagi writing to her and a day when he brought the letter with him to the cafe. This one was important. Even if she managed to go back in time and meet him, if he didn't have the letter, everything would become pointless. Luckily, she knew that he normally put all his important things in his black zippered portfolio, and he would carry this with him. If it was a love letter, he wouldn't leave it lying around at home. He would definitely be carrying it with him in his zipped portfolio so that she wouldn't happen upon it. She didn't know the day when he meant to give it to her, but where there was a bag, there was a way. She formed an image of Fusagi carrying his zippered portfolio with him.

"Are you ready?" said Kazu in a calm, quiet voice.

"Just a moment." She took a deep breath. She formed the images one more time. Day he doesn't forget. Letter. Day he came. She chanted softly. "Okay, enough messing around. I'm ready," she said, staring directly into Kazu's eyes.

Kazu gave a small nod. She sat the empty coffee cup in front of Kotake and carefully picked up the silver kettle from the tray in her right hand. Her ballerina-like motions were efficient and beautiful.

"Just remember," Kazu paused, facing Kotake with downcast eyes. "Drink the coffee before it goes cold." These soft words echoed through the silent cafe. Kotake sensed how tense the atmosphere had become. With a serious and ceremonial air, Kazu began pouring coffee into the cup. A thin stream of pitch black coffee poured from the narrow spout of the silver kettle. Unlike the gurgling sound made by coffee poured from a car with a wide mouth, the coffee filled the wide coffee cup silently and ever so slowly. Kotake had never seen such a kettle before. It was a little smaller than those she had seen at other cafes. Solidly built, it looked very elegant and refined. The coffee is probably special as well, she thought. As such thoughts were passing through her mind, a wisp of steam rose from the now full cup. At that moment, everything around Kotake began to ripple and shimmer. Her entire field of vision suddenly seemed surreal. She recalled the glass of seven happinesses she recently down. Perhaps I'm feeling its effects. No, this was definitely different. What she was experiencing was far more alarming. Her body had also begun rippling and shimmering. She had become the steam coming off the coffee. It seemed as if everything around her was unraveling. Kotake closed her eyes, not out of fear, but in an attempt to focus.

If indeed she was now traveling back in time, she wanted to mentally prepare herself. The very first time Kotake noticed a change in Fouseagi, it was because of something he said. On the day he admitted out loud what had happened, Kotake was preparing dinner while waiting for him to come home. A landscape gardener's work does not simply involve pruning branches and raking leaves. He has to consider the balance between the house and the garden. The garden cannot be too colorful, nor can it be too plain. The key word is balance. That was what Fouseagi had always said. His workday began early but finished at dusk. Unless there was a particular reason not to, Fouseagi would come home straight away. So when Kotake didn't have a night shift, she would wait for him and they would eat together. On this occasion, night came, but Fouseagi had still not come home. This was unusual behavior, but Kotake assumed he must have gone out drinking with colleagues. When finally he did come home, it was 2 hours later than usual. Normally when he came home he would always ring the doorbell three times. But that night he didn't ring. Instead, Kotake heard the sound of the door knob turning and a voice from outside saying, "It's me." On hearing his voice, she rushed and opened the door in a panic. She thought he must have hurt himself in some way that prevented him from ringing the doorbell. But there he was, looking as he always did, dressed simply in his gray gardening smok with his navy breaches. He had taken his tool bag from his shoulder and looking a little ashamed of himself, admitted. "I got lost." That had happened around the end of summer 2 years ago. Being a nurse, Kotake had been trained to recognize early symptoms of a whole range of illnesses. This was more than simply forgetting something. She was sure of it. Soon after he began to forget whether or not he had done a task at work. After the illness had progressed a bit further, he would wake in the night and say out loud, "I forgot to do something important." When this happened, she wouldn't argue with him. She focused on calming him and reassuring him that they could check up on it in the morning. She even consulted a doctor behind his back. She was keen to try anything that might slow the advancement of his disease, even if by just a little. But as the days went on, he began to forget more and more. He liked to travel. It wasn't the travel itself that he liked, but the opportunity to visit gardens in different places. Kotake always arranged to take her holidays at the same time as him so that they could go together. He would complain and say he was going for work, but that didn't bother her. While on a trip, his brows seemed permanently furrowed, but she knew that this was how he looked whenever he was doing something he liked. Even as his illness progressed, he didn't stop traveling, but he did start visiting the same destination over and over again. After a while, the illness began to affect their daily lives. He often forgot that he had bought things. More and more often, there would be days when he would ask, "Who bought this?" and then spend the rest of the day in a bad mood. They lived in the apartment they had moved to after getting married, but he began not coming home and she would frequently get calls from the police. Then about 6 months ago, he started calling her by her maiden name, Kotake.

Finally, the dizzy sensation of rippling and shimmering faded. Kotake opened her eyes. She saw the slowly rotating ceiling fan, her hands and her feet. She was no longer steam. However, she didn't know whether she had actually gone back in time. The cafe had no windows and the lighting was always dim. Unless one looked at a watch, there was no way of knowing whether it was day or night. The three solid looking clocks on the wall all showed completely different times. But something was different. Kazu had vanished. Kay was nowhere to be seen either. Kotake tried to calm herself, but she was unable to stop her heart from beating faster and faster. She once again looked around the cafe.

"There's no one here," she muttered. The absence of Fouseagi, who she had gone back to meet, was a huge disappointment. She looked at the ceiling fan in a daysaze and considered her plight. It was a shame, but perhaps it was for the best. Actually, in some ways, she was relieved. Of course, she wanted to read the letter, but she couldn't help feeling guilty that she was sneaking a peak, so to speak. Rousagi would have surely been crossed to learn that she had come from the future to read what he had written. It wasn't as if anything she did would change the present anyway. It didn't matter if she never read it. If by reading it his condition would somehow improve, then of course she would. She would give her life for that. But the letter had nothing to do with his condition. It wouldn't change the fact that he had forgotten her either. She coolly and rationally considered her predicament. Just earlier, she had the shock of him asking her whether they'd met before. It had really upset her. She had known this time would come, but it still caught her off balance and brought her here. She was beginning to feel more composed. If this was the past, then it held nothing of use. "I should return to the present. Even if I am just a stranger to Fouseagi, I can be his nurse. I must do what I can." She remembered her heart's resolve and reaffirmed it.

"I doubt it's a love letter," she muttered to herself as she reached out for the cup of coffee.

Clang dong. Someone had entered the cafe. To enter this cafe, one has to descend stairs from the ground level and go in through a large door about 2 m high made out of solid wood. It's when this door opens that the bell sounds, but the visitor does not immediately appear at the entrance as a small patch of flooring must be crossed first. Once the bell rings, there is a time lag of a few seconds before the visitor takes those one or two steps and enters the cafe. So, when the bell rang, Kotake had no idea who had come in. Was it Nagare or Kay? She noticed how nervous the suspense was making her. Her heart was racing in excitement. It wasn't the kind of thing she normally did. A once- ina-lifetime experience to be exact. If it was Kay, she would probably ask me why. Kazu, on the other hand, would just probably deliver her usual customer service. That would probably be a disappointment. Kotake played out various scenarios in her mind, but the person who appeared was neither K nor Kazu. Standing in the doorway was Fusagi.

"Oh," Kotake said. His sudden appearance had taken her by surprise. "It was him she had come back to see, but she hadn't been expecting him to walk into the cafe right then." He was wearing a navy polo shirt and beige kneelength shorts. It was what he often wore on his days off. It must have been hot outside as he was fanning himself with his black zippered portfolio. She sat unmoving in her chair. He stood at the entrance for a while staring at her with an odd look.

"Hi there," she began. She felt clueless as to how she was going to brooach what she had come to talk about. He had never stared at her like this, not since they met, let alone since they had been married. It was both flattering and embarrassing. She had formed a hazy image of 3 years ago, but she didn't know how to make sure that that

was where she was. Maybe she hadn't imagined it right. And if that was the case, what was to say that by some mistake she'd got the three right, but she had only returned to 3 days ago. Just when she began to think she might have been too vague.

"Oh, hello. I didn't expect to see you here," he said matter-of-factly. Fusagi sounded like he had before he became ill. He was as she had pictured him. That is to say, he was how she remembered him. "I was waiting, but you didn't come home," he added. He looked away from her gaze. He coughed nervously with a furrowed brow as if uncomfortable with something.

"So, it's really you," she said.

"Huh?"

"You know who I am?"

"What?" He looked at her with amusement. But she was, of course, not joking. She had to make sure. It was obvious that she had returned to the past. But when? Before or after the onset of the Alzheimer's?

"Just say my name. Are you going to stop messing with me?" He spat out crossly. Though he hadn't answered the question, she smiled with relief. "No, it's okay," she said, shaking her head a little. This short exchange told her everything she needed to know. She had definitely gone back. The Fouseagi standing before her was Fouseagi from before he had lost his memory. And if the image she pictured had worked, it was the Fousei of 3 years ago.

Kotake smiled as she gave her coffee an unnecessary stir. Fusagi observed Kotake and her peculiar behavior. "You're acting a bit strange today," he said, looking around the cafe as if he had just realized no one else was there. "Nagare, you here?" he called to the kitchen. With no reply, he went behind the counter, flapping his seta sandals as he walked. He peeked into the back room, but no one was there. "That's odd. No one's here," he grumbled. He sat down on the counter seat furthest away from Kotake.

She coughed on purpose to get his attention. He looked at her, fed up. "What is it? Why are you sitting there?"

"Why not? What's stopping me? Why not come and sit here?" She rapped on the table to beckon him to sit in the empty seat facing her, but he winced at the idea. "No, I'm fine," he replied.

"Oh, come now. Why not? A mature married couple sitting down together like that."

"Nah," Fouseagi said a little crossly. The crevice between his brows deepened. He was dismissive of the idea, but when his brow furrowed in that way, it wasn't that he was displeased. On the contrary, it was a sign that he was in a good mood. She knew all too well it was meant to conceal his embarrassment.

"True, we are a married couple," she agreed, smiling. She was so happy to hear the word couple from his lips.

"Gh, don't be so sentimental." Now, anything he said brought back waves of nostalgia and happiness. She absent-mindedly sipped the coffee. "Uh-oh," she said out loud as she realized how much the coffee had cooled. It suddenly dawned on her how limited her time there was. She had to do what she had to do before it went completely cold.

"Look, there's something I need to ask you."

"What? What is it? Is there anything anything you want to hand me?" Kotake's heart started racing. Fusagi had written it before the onset of his illness. It may have been a love letter. Totally impossible, she was telling herself. But if it were, her wish to read it was now running wild, reassured by the fact that no matter what she did, the present would not change.

"What about this? By this?" She drew the size of the envelope in the air using her fingers just as Kazu had shown her. Her direct approach provoked alarm in his face as he glared at her completely motionless. "I've blown it," she thought on seeing his expression. She remembered that something similar had happened soon after they were married. Fusagi had a present ready to give her for her birthday. On the day before, by accident, she saw it among his belongings. Never before having received a present from him, she was overjoyed at the prospect of receiving this first gift. On the day of her birthday, when he had returned home from work, she was so excited that she asked him, "Don't you have something special for me today?" But on hearing this, he went very quiet. "No, nothing in particular," he said. The next day, she found her present in the bin. It was the lilac handkerchief. She felt she had repeated the same mistake. He hated being told to do something that he had been meaning to do himself. Now she feared that even if he was carrying the letter, he would never give it to her, especially if it was a love letter. She regretted her carelessness even more so because time was of the essence. He still looked alarmed.

She smiled at him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything. Please forget it," she said in a light-hearted way. Then, to emphasize that it didn't really matter to her either way, she tried to make small talk. "Hey, I just thought, why don't we do sukiyaki tonight?" It was his favorite dish. He seemed to be in a sulky mood, but this usually lifted his spirits. She slowly reached for the cup and felt the temperature of the coffee with her palm. It was still okay. She still had time. She could cherish these precious moments with him. She wanted to forget the letter for the time being. Judging by his reaction, he definitely had written her something. If he hadn't, he would have responded in no uncertain terms, "What on earth are you talking about?" If she allowed the current situation to play out, he would end up throwing the letter away. She decided to change strategy. She would try to alter his mood to prevent a repeat of what happened on her birthday. She looked at him. His face was still serious, but then again, it was always like that. He never wanted her to think that just by hearing Sukiyaki, his mood instantly lifted. He wasn't that straightforward. This was Fusagi before Alzheimer's. Even his sulky face was precious to her. It was bliss to be with him again now.

But she had read the situation wrongly. "Oh, I get it. I see what's happening," he said with a gloomy look. He got up from the counter and walked over to stand in front of her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him. He was striking an imposing stance as he glared back at her.

"What's wrong?" She hadn't seen him like this before. "You're from the future, aren't you?"

"What? What he had just said could be considered crazy, but he was right. She had come from the future. Uh, now look, she was racking her brains trying to remember whether there was a rule that said when you go back in time, you cannot reveal that you are from the future. But none existed. Look, I can explain. I thought it was strange that you were sitting in that seat. Yes. Well, so that means you know about my illness." She felt her heart start racing again. She thought she had been transported back to a time before his disease, but she was wrong. The Fusagi standing before her knew he was ill. Just from looking at his clothes, she could tell it was summertime. She had been transported back to the summer of 2 years ago. The time when he began losing his way, when she began noticing the telltale signs of his illness. If she had gone back by as little as a year, her conversation with him would have become muzzled by now. Rather than 3 years ago, she had returned to the day that met with the criteria she had imagined. A day when Fusagi had not forgotten her, a day when he was thinking of passing her the letter, and a day when he brought it with him to the cafe. To have gone back 3 years would have meant that he had not yet written the letter. The Husagi standing before her knew he was ill, and so it was likely that the content of the letter concerned his disease. Also, the way he reacted with such dread when she mentioned the letter seemed further evidence.

"You know, don't you?" he said forcefully, pressing her to give an answer. She couldn't see how she could lie at this stage. She nodded silently.

"I see," he muttered. She regained her composure. "Okay, whatever I do here, it's not going to change the present, but it might upset him. I never would have returned to the past if I thought that might happen. How embarrassing that I was all caught up in the idea of it being a love letter." She felt deep, deep regret for coming back. But now was not the time to be wallowing. He had gone silent.

"My love," she called out to the despondent-looking Fusagi. She had never seen him looking so depressed. It was heart-wrenching. He suddenly turned his back on her and walked back towards the counter where he had been sitting. He picked up the black portfolio. From it, he pulled a brown envelope and walked back to her. His face showed no signs of wretchedness or desperation. He looked more embarrassed than anything else. He began to mumble in a throaty voice that was difficult to hear. "The you living in this time doesn't know about my illness. He might be under that impression, but I already know or will very soon. I just don't know how to tell you." He held up the brown envelope to show her. He was planning to tell her that he had Alzheimer's in this letter. But I don't need to read it. I already know. It would make more sense to give it to me in the past. The me that Fouseagi can't bring himself to give it to. I guess if he can't pass it to that version of me, it's okay that I take it. That's just the way things are."

She decided to leave while things were as they were at that moment. She didn't want the subject of his illness to be broached. The worst-case scenario was him asking about his condition in the present. If he asked how his condition progressed, who knows how he would take the awful news? She should return before he asked. Now was the time to return to the present. The coffee was now at a temperature that she could down it in one go.

"I can't let the coffee go cold," she said and brought the cup close to her mouth.

"So I forget? I forget you," he mumbled, looking down. Hearing this, she was overwhelmed by confusion. She didn't even know why there was a coffee cup in front of her. She looked at him in trepidation. Staring at him, she noticed how forlorn his expression was now. She had never imagined that he could look that way. Lost for words, she couldn't even maintain eye contact and found herself casting her eyes down. By giving no reply, she had answered his question with a yes.

"I see. I feared as much," he murmured sadly. He bowed his head so deeply his neck looked like it might break. Her eyes welled with tears. After being diagnosed with Alzheimer's, he had struggled each day with the dread and anxiety of losing his memory. Yet she, his wife, had not seen how he had borne these thoughts and feelings alone. On learning that she had come from the future, the first thing he wanted to know was whether he had forgotten her, his wife. This realization filled her with both joy and sorrow. It gave her the strength to look him in the face without wiping away her tears. She smiled broadly at him so he might interpret her tears as those of joy.

"Actually, your illness does get better. You know, as a nurse, now is the time I need to be strong. In fact, you in the future told me I can say anything without changing the present. How you did have anxious moments. What does it hurt if I lie? If I can relieve his anxiety, even if it's just for a moment, it's worth it." She wanted so much for her lie to be believed. She would do anything. She had a lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face. But maintaining her beaming smile, she continued, "It'll be all right. It will be all right. You recover. You recover. Don't worry. You recover. Really." Every word she spoke, she delivered with all her strength. In her mind, it wasn't a lie. Even if he had forgotten who she was, even if nothing she did changed the present, he looked her straight in the eyes. And she looked right back at him, her face streaming with tears. He looked happy.

"Oh, really?" he said in a soft whisper.

"Yes," she said. He looked at her in the gentlest of ways, looking down at the brown envelope he was holding in his hands. He slowly approached her. The distance between them was now such that a letter might be handed from one to the other.

"Here," he said. Like a shy child, he offered her the brown envelope he was holding. She tried to push the letter away.

"But you get better," she said.

"Then you can throw it out," he said, handing her the letter more forcefully. His tone was different from his normal gruff self. He spoke with such gentleness that it gave her the odd feeling that she must have missed something. He once again pressed the brown envelope on her. Her trembling hands reached out and nervously took it. She wasn't really sure of his intentions.

"Drink up. Your coffee will go cold," he said, acknowledging the rules. The kindness in his smile seemed infinite. She nodded. It was just a small nod. With no words left, she reached for the coffee. Once she had her hands firmly on the cup, he turned his back. It was as if their time as a couple had reached its end. A large tear began to form in her eye.

"My love," she cried out without thinking. He did not turn round. His shoulders appeared to be trembling ever so slightly. While watching his back, she drank the coffee in one go. She drank it in one gulp, not out of a sense of urgency that the coffee was about to go cold, but rather out of respect for Fusagi, whose gentle back was turned to ensure she could quickly and safely return to the present. Such was the depth of his kindness.

"My darling," she felt overcome by a shimmering and rippling sensation. She returned the cup to its saucer. As her hand drew back, it seemed to dissolve into steam. All that was left to do was to return to the present. This fleeting moment, when they had once more been together as husband and wife, had ended. Suddenly, he turned round. A reaction perhaps to the sound of her cup hitting the saucer. She didn't know how he could make her out, but he seemed to be able to see her there. As her consciousness flickered and dissipated into the steam, she saw his lips move a little. Unless she was mistaken, he seemed to be saying, "Thank you." Her consciousness had merged with the steam, and she had begun the transition from past to present. The cafe around her began to fast forward. She could do nothing to stem the flow of her tears. In a blink, she realized Kazu and Kay had reappeared in her field of vision. She had returned to the present, the day that he had completely forgotten her.

One look at her expression was enough to fill Kay's face with worry. "The letter?" she asked. Letter, not love letter. She dropped her gaze to the brown envelope she'd been given by Fouseagi in the past. She slowly removed the letter from the envelope. It was written in basic script, all squiggly like crawling worms. It was definitely Fusagi's handwriting. As Kotake read the letter, she held her right hand to her mouth to stop the sobbing as her tears fell. So sudden was her outburst of tears that Kazu was worried.

"Kotake, are you okay?" she asked. Kotake's shoulders began to shudder and gradually she began wailing louder and louder. Kazu and Kay stood there looking at her, unsure of what to do. After a while, she handed Kazu the letter. Kazu took the letter and, as if looking for permission, she looked at Kay behind the counter. Kay nodded slightly with a grave expression. Kazu looked back at the tearful Kotake and then began to read out loud.

"You're a nurse, so I can only assume you have already noticed. I have an illness where I forget things. I imagine that as I keep on losing my memory, you will be able to put aside your own feelings and care for me with the detachment of a nurse, and that you can do that no matter what strange things I say or do, even if I forget who you are. So I ask you never to forget one thing. You are my wife and if life becomes too hard for you as my wife, I want you to leave me. You don't have to stay by me as a nurse. If I am no good as a husband, then I want you to leave me. All I ask is that you can do what you can as my wife. We are husband and wife after all. Even if I lose my memory, I want to be together as husband and wife. I cannot stand the idea of us staying together only out of sympathy. This is something I cannot say to your face. So I wrote it in a letter."

When Kazu finished reading, Kotake and Kay looked up at the ceiling and began to cry loudly. Kotake understood why Husagi had handed this letter to her, his wife from the future. From the letter, it was clear that he had guessed what she would do after she found out about his illness. And then when he came from the future, it became clear to him that just as he predicted in the future she was caring for him like a nurse. Amid the anxiety and fear of losing his memory, he was hoping that she would continue to be his wife. She was always in his heart. There was more proof of this to be found. Even after losing his memory, he could content himself by looking at travel magazines, opening his notebook, and jotting something down. She had once looked at what he wrote. He had been listing the destinations that he had traveled to in order to visit gardens. She had simply assumed his actions were a hangover from his love of his work as a landscape gardener. But she was wrong. The destinations he made a note of were all the places that he had visited with her. She didn't notice at the time. She couldn't see. These notes were the last handhold for Fouseagi who was gradually forgetting who she was. Of course, that she had looked after him as a nurse didn't feel like a mistake to her. She had believed that it was for the best. And he didn't write the letter to blame her in any way either. It seemed to her that he knew that her talk about him getting healed was a lie, but it was a lie he wanted to believe. Otherwise, she thought he wouldn't have said thank you.

After her crying had stopped, the woman in the dress returned from the toilet, stood in front of her, and spoke just one word.

"Move," she said in a low voice.

"Sure," she said, leaping up and relinquishing the seat. The woman in the dress's reappearance was impeccably timed, coinciding with the switch in Kotake's mood. Eyes swollen from crying, she looked at Kazu and Kay. She held up the letter that Kazu had just read and waved it. "So, there you have it," she said with a grin. Kay responded by nodding, her round, bright eyes still streaming tears like a waterfall.

"What have I been doing?" Kotake mumbled, looking at the letter.

Kotake sniffled, looking worried. Kotake neatly folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. "I'm going home," she said in a bold, confident voice. Kazu gave a small nod. Kay was still sniffling. Kotake looked at the still, teary Kay, who had cried longer than she had. She smiled as she thought that Kay must be getting pretty dehydrated, and let out a deep breath. No longer looking lost, she seemed empowered. She pulled out her purse from her shoulder bag on the counter and handed Kazu 380 yen in coins.

"Thanks," she said. With a calm expression, Kazu returned her smile. Kotake gave a quick nod and walked towards the entrance. She stepped lightly. She was in a hurry to see Fusagi's face. She passed through the doorway and out of sight.

"Ah," she said and doubled back into the cafe. Kazu and Kay looked at her inquiringly.

"One more thing," she said. "Starting tomorrow. No more calling me by my maiden name."

"Okay." She grinned broadly. It was Kotake who originally requested that she be called by her maiden name. When Fouseagi had started calling her Kotake, she wanted to avoid confusion. But such consideration was not necessary now. A smile returned to Kay's face and her bright eyes opened widely.

"Okay, got you," she said happily.

"Tell everyone else to," said Kotake. And without waiting for a reply, she waved and left.

Clang dong. "Okay," said Kazu, as if speaking to herself, and put the money from Kotake in the till. Kay cleaned away the cup that Kotake had drunk from and went into the kitchen to get a refill for the woman in the dress. The clank clank sound of the keys of the cash register reverberated through the cool room. The ceiling fan continued to rotate silently. Kay returned and poured a new coffee for the woman in the dress. "We appreciate your presence again this summer," she whispered. The woman in the dress continued to read her novel and did not reply. Kay placed her hand on her own stomach and smiled. Summer was just getting started.

Chapter 3. The Sisters. A girl was sitting quietly in that seat. She looked old enough to be in high school. She had large, sweet eyes. She was wearing a beige turtleneck with a tartan check miniskirt, black tights, and moss brown boots. A duffel coat hung on the back of her chair. Her clothes could have been worn by an adult, but there was something childlike about her expression. Her hair was cut in a bob to her jawline. She wore no makeup, but her naturally long eyelashes accentuated her pretty features. Although she came from the future, there was nothing that would have prevented her from passing in public as someone from the present if it hadn't been for that rule that said anyone visiting from the future must stay in that seat. As it was early August, her clothes would, however, have looked terribly out of season. It was still a mystery as to who she had come to meet.

Right now, the only person in the cafe was Nagara Tokita. The large-framed man with narrow eyes was wearing a cook's uniform and standing behind the counter. But the cafe proprietor didn't seem to be who the girl had come to meet. Although her eyes were looking at Nagare, they showed no sign of emotion towards him. She seemed to be totally indifferent to his existence. But at the same time, no one else was in the cafe. Nagare stood there looking at her with his arms crossed. Nagare was a large man. Any ordinary girl or woman, for that matter, might have felt a little threatened sitting in that small cafe alone with him. But the untroubled expression on this girl's face suggested that she couldn't care less. The girl and Nagare had exchanged no words. The girl had been doing nothing except occasionally glancing at one of the clocks on the wall as if she was worried about the time.

Suddenly, Nagati's nose twitched and his right eye opened wider. A *ching* from the toaster in the kitchen rang out. Food was ready. He went into the kitchen and began busily preparing something. The girl didn't pay any attention to the noise and took a sip of her coffee. She nodded as if to say, "Yes." The coffee must have still been warm, as her expression suggested that she had plenty of time.

Nagare came out from the kitchen. He was carrying a rectangular tray with toast and butter, salad, and fruit yogurt on it. The butter was homemade, his specialty. His butter was so good that the woman in curers, Yaiko Hiayi, would come in for some, armed with a plastic container. Nagare got a lot of joy from watching the customers delight as they ate his delicious butter. The problem was that although he used the most expensive ingredients, the butter was free for customers. He didn't charge for condiments. He was very particular about that. These high standards of his were quite a problem. Still holding the tray, he stood in front of the girl. His large frame must have seemed like a giant wall to the petite girl seated there. He looked down at her.

"Who did you come to meet?" he asked, getting straight to the point. The girl looked up at the giant wall standing there. She casually stared at him. He was used to his huge size causing surprise and apprehension in those who didn't know him. It felt strange now that he didn't have this effect.

"What?" he asked. But the girl didn't offer much of a response.

"No one in particular," she just said, and took another sip of coffee. She wouldn't engage with him at all. Tilting his head to one side, he gracefully placed the tray on the table for the girl and then returned to his place behind the counter.

The girl looked uncomfortable. "Uh, excuse me," she called to Nagare.

"What?"

"I didn't order this," the girl said awkwardly, pointing to the toast in front of her.

"On the house," he said with pride. The girl looked at all the free food with disbelief. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward with both hands on the counter. "You made all the effort to come from the future. I can't have a girl like you going back without serving you anything," he said, perhaps expecting at least a thank you. But the girl just kept staring at him and didn't even smile. He felt obliged to respond.

"Is there a problem?" he said, a bit rattled.

"No, thank you. I'll eat it." Add a girl. "Well, why wouldn't I?" The girl expertly spread the butter on the toast and took a hungry mouthful. She kept on munching. She had a wonderful way of eating. He was waiting for the girl's reaction. Naturally, he thought she would show her delight upon eating his boastworthy butter, but she did not react as he had anticipated. She carried on eating without changing her expression. When she finished the toast, she started crunching on the salad and gobbling down the fruit yogurt. On finishing, the girl just folded her hands in thanks for the food without having made a single comment. The godd was crestfallen.

Clang dong. It was Kazu. She handed the key ring with its wad of keys to Nagare behind the counter.

"I'm back," she said, stopping mid-word when she noticed the girl in that seat.

"Hey," replied Nagare, pocketing the keyring. He didn't say, "Hey, welcome back," like he normally would. Kazu grabbed his wrist and whispered, "Who's she?"