Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

Kazu did not join the other two in downing her drink. She quietly placed the glass on the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.

Kohtake 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 the table and sat down. The cafe’s chairs all looked like antiques, elegantly shaped with cabriole legs. The seat and back were upholstered in a moss-green fabric, and Kohtake 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 Meiji period, it must have been operating for more than a hundred years. Yet there was not the slightest hint of mustiness.

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 Kohtake noticing her. Standing there so quietly, there was something eerie about her appearance. She was carrying a silver tray, on which there were a white coffee cup and, instead of the glass carafe normally used to serve customers, a small silver kettle.

Kohtake’s heart skipped a beat as she saw how stunning Kazu looked. Her normal girlish qualities had disappeared, and she now wore an expression that was both elegant and intimidatingly sombre.

‘You’re familiar with the rules, right?’ Kazu asked in a casual but distant tone.

Kohtake 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 Kohtake. Fusagi 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. Kohtake 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 Fusagi, 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 Kohtake 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, Kohtake 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.

Kohtake 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.

Kohtake suddenly realized that Kazu was silently waiting for her reply. ‘I have to drink the coffee before it goes 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?’ Kohtake asked.

‘A day before Fusagi 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 three years ago. It was a time before Fusagi 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 zippered 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.

OK, enough messing around.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, staring directly into Kazu’s eyes.

Kazu gave a small nod. She set the empty coffee cup in front of Kohtake 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 Kohtake with downcast eyes. ‘Drink the coffee before it goes cold.’

These soft words echoed through the silent cafe. Kohtake 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 carafe with a wide mouth, the coffee filled the white coffee cup silently and ever so slowly.

Kohtake 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 Kohtake began to ripple and shimmer. Her entire field of vision suddenly seemed surreal. She recalled the glass of Seven Happinesses she recently downed. 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 unravelling.

Kohtake closed her eyes, not out of fear, but in an attempt to focus. If indeed she was now travelling back in time, she wanted to mentally prepare herself.

The very first time Kohtake noticed a change in Fusagi, it was because of something he said. On the day he admitted out loud what had happened, Kohtake 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 colourful, nor can it be too plain. ‘The keyword is balance.’ That was what Fusagi had always said. His work day began early but finished at dusk. Unless there was a particular reason not to, Fusagi would come home straight away. So when Kohtake didn’t have a night shift, she would wait for him and they would eat together.