clang-dong

“Hello. Good evening!” said Kazu, delivering her standard greeting. “Kohtake!”

Standing in the open doorway was a woman. She looked like she might be a little over forty.

Kohtake 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. Kohtake took two or three steps toward the table closest to the entrance and stood next to the man called Fusagi. He didn’t seem to notice her at all .

“Fusagi,” Kohtake said in a gentle tone that one would normally reserve for a child.

At first, Fusagi 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.

“Kohtake,” he muttered.

“Yes. It’s me,” Kohtake 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. Kohtake, 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,” Kohtake said while studying every nook and cranny of the café 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,” he whispered.

“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 café was small. “What!” she exclaimed in surprise at learning that Fusagi was likewise waiting for the woman in the dress to go to the bathroom so he could return to the past.

Hearing Fumiko’s voice, Kohtake turned to look at her, but Fusagi paid no attention to her himself.

“Is that so?” Kohtake 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 café, 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 bathroom 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?” Kohtake 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 bathroom. 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?”

“Ah, 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, Kohtake smiled as if something was pleasing. Then she peered over to the woman in the dress.

“But it doesn’t look like she’ll be going to the bathroom today, does it?”

Fumiko hadn’t been expecting to hear that. She reacted automatically, lifting her head from the table. Her movement so swift it was almost audible. Is it possible that the woman might not even go to the bathroom? 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. 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 go to the bathroom? What does the woman called Kohtake 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, Kohtake’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?” Kohtake 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 bathroom, if Fusagi left, at least she could be rid of her rival.

When Kohtake 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.

He 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 Kohtake, 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 a 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 café 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 Kohtake 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.

Kohtake said nothing. She simply stood behind Fusagi, watching over him as he went about paying. “Three hundred and eighty yen,” Kazu said.

Fusagi pulled out one coin and handed it to Kazu.

“Okay, here’s five hundred yen...”

Kazu took the money, entered it into the cash register.

Cha-ching...

She pulled the change from the drawer.

“That’s one hundred and twenty 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 Kohtake was there, and he quickly headed for the door.

Kohtake seemed not in the least bothered by his attitude. “Thank you,” she said simply, and followed on after him.