clang-dong

Soon after Kei had disappeared, a large man poked his head through the doorway, bowing it to stop it from 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 in his right hand. He was Nagare Tokita, the owner of the café.

“Good evening,” Kazu greeted him.

Nagare nodded in response and turned his eyes to the man with the magazine at the table closest to the entrance.

Kazu went into the kitchen to bring a refill for the empty coffee cup that Hirai was silently holding up, while Hirai, 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 Fusagi didn’t react, as if it hadn’t registered that his name had been called. Then he looked up slowly.

Nagare nodded politely. “Hello.”

“Oh, hello,” Fusagi said, with a blank expression. He immediately returned to his magazine. For a moment, Nagare 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 Kohtake for me, please.”

The request puzzled Kazu for a while.

“Yes, because she’s been looking,” Nagare said, as he turned back to Fusagi.

Kazu understood what he meant. “Oh... Right,” she replied.

After giving Hirai a refill, she disappeared into the back room 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.

He took the glass into the kitchen to wash it. A moment later, there was the sound of fingernails tapping on the counter.

He poked his head out of the kitchen to see what was happening.

Hirai 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 paper towels.

“Hmm...” 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 paper towel. Hirai 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?” Hirai asked more somberly. Nagare’s expression did not falter.

“After looking at the results, they decided she doesn’t need to be hospitalized,” he explained in a low murmur, almost as if he was talking to himself.

Hirai gave a quiet sigh. “I see...” she said and glanced toward the back room where Kei was .

Kei 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. Hirai was all too familiar with that aspect of her. That was why she checked with Nagare.

Nagare had finally located the paper towels and was wiping his hands. “And how are things with you, Hirai? Are they okay?”

Hirai wasn’t sure what Nagare 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,” Hirai answered while she looked around the café.

“Your parents run a travelers’ inn, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Nagare didn’t have much detail, but he had heard that as a result of Hirai 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 the right head for handling that kind of work.”

“But still...”

“It’s been too long. I can’t go home now,” Hirai snapped.

She pulled out a large purse from her leopard-skin satchel. 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 Nagare 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.