Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

When Nagare made coffee, he usually brewed it using the siphon method, by pouring boiling water into a flask, then heating it to allow the evaporated steam to rise through a funnel and extract the coffee from the ground beans held inside the funnel. However, when he made coffee for Kohtake and some other regular customers, he brewed the coffee hand-drip style. When making hand-drip coffee, he put a paper filter in a dripper, added the ground beans, and poured boiling water over them. He thought the hand-drip style of making coffee allowed for greater flexibility as you could change the bitterness and sourness of the coffee by changing the temperature of the water, and the way you poured it. As the cafe did not play background music, it was possible to hear the soft sound of the coffee dripping, drop by drop, into the server. When Kohtake heard this dripping sound, she would smile in satisfaction.

Kei tended to use an automatic coffee maker. This machine was equipped with a single button that allowed different tastes to be accommodated. As Kei was not a master in the art of making coffee, she preferred to rely on a machine. Some of the regular customers who came to enjoy a cup of coffee did not therefore order when Nagare was not around. After all, the coffee was always the same price, whether it was brewed by Nagare or Kei. Kazu normally made coffee using the siphon method. The reason for this choice was not because of taste. She simply enjoyed watching the hot water rise up through the funnel. Besides, Kazu found the hand-drip coffee too tedious to make.

Kohtake was served with a coffee specially brewed by Nagare. With the coffee in front of her, she closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. It was her moment of happiness. As per his insistence, the coffee had been made from mocha beans with their distinct aroma, which coffee drinkers either love or hate. Those who enjoy the aroma, like Kohtake, can’t get enough of it. In fact, you could say that the coffee picked the customers. Just as with his butter, Nagare enjoyed watching customers take pleasure in the aroma. As he watched, his eyes narrowed even further.

‘By the way,’ said Kohtake while enjoying her coffee, as if she’d suddenly remembered, ‘I noticed that Hirai’s bar has been closed both yesterday and today. Do you know anything about that?’

The snack bar, a sort of mini-hostess bar, that Hirai ran was just metres from the cafe.

It was just a small bar comprising a counter with six seats, but it was always busy. It opened at different times each evening, depending on Hirai’s mood, but it was open seven nights a week, all year round. Since she opened its doors, the bar had opened every night without fail. Patrons often waited outside for it to open. Some nights, as many as ten customers squeezed into the place. Only the first six customers sat on chairs; the rest would drink standing up.

The patrons weren’t only men, either. Hirai was popular among women too. Her blunt way of speaking sometimes dented the pride of patrons, but they knew there was no malice intended, and there were never hard feelings. Patrons always felt comfortable around her; she had a natural gift for being able to say anything and get away with it. She dressed in a flashy way and couldn’t care less what anyone thought about it. But she believed in good manners and etiquette. She would listen to anything anyone had to say. Though if she thought a patron was wrong, even if they were of high social status, she would have no qualms about setting them straight. Some patrons were generous with their money, but she never accepted any money except in payment for drinks. Some patrons would try to earn her favour by offering her expensive gifts, but she never accepted them, not once. There were even men who would offer her a house or an apartment, a Mercedes or a Ferrari, or diamonds or the like, but she would just say, ‘I’m not interested.’ Even Kohtake sometimes visited her bar. It was a place where you could be guaranteed to have a fun time drinking.

Kohtake had noticed that her bar, usually so full of customers, had been closed for two nights in a row, and none of the patrons knew why. She was a little concerned.

As soon as she broached the subject of Hirai, Nagare’s face turned serious.

‘What happened?’ she asked, a little startled.

‘Her sister. There was a road accident,’ he said softly.

‘Oh no!’

‘So she went home.’

‘Oh how terrible!’ She sank her gaze into the pitch-black coffee. She knew Hirai’s younger sister Kumi from when she would visit and try to get Hirai – who had broken ties with the family – to come home. For the last one or two years, Hirai had found her frequent visits such a nuisance that more often than not she avoided meeting her. Regardless, Kumi would make the visit to Tokyo almost every month. Three days ago, Kumi had visited the cafe to meet Hirai. The accident occurred on her way home.

The small car that she was driving collided head on with an oncoming truck whose driver must have dozed off. She was taken to hospital in an ambulance but did not survive the journey.

‘What horrible news.’ Kohtake left her coffee alone.

The faint steam that had been rising from it had disappeared. Nagare stood with arms folded, silently looking at his feet.

He had received an email on his phone from Hirai. She probably would have contacted Kei, but Kei didn’t own a phone. In the email, Hirai gave some details about the accident and mentioned that the bar would be closed for a while. The email had been written in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it had happened to someone else. Kei had used his phone to reply and had asked how Hirai was doing, but she got no response. The inn on the outskirts of Sendai was called Takakura, meaning ‘The Treasury’.

Sendai is a popular tourist destination, particularly famous for its gorgeous Tanabata Festival. The festival is best known for its sasakazari : a towering piece of bamboo about ten metres long, to which five giant paper balls with colourful paper streamers are attached. Other decorations from the festival – colourful paper strips, paper kimonos, and origami paper cranes – are sought after by tourists who use them for business blessings and lucky charms. The festival always takes place from 6 to 8 August, which meant that in a few days, the decoration preparation in the downtown area around Sendai Station was due to begin. Given the two million tourists who were attracted to the three-day festival, Tanabata was the busiest period for Takakura, located as it was about ten minutes by taxi from Sendai Station.

‘Hello! Welcome,’ Nagare called out cheerfully, lifting the cafe out of its sombre mood.

On hearing the bell, Kohtake took the opportunity to get more comfortable. She reached for the coffee.

‘Hello. Welcome,’ said Kei, coming out from the back room in an apron after hearing the bell. But there was still no one.

It was taking longer than normal for someone to appear in the cafe but just as Nagare tilted his head questioningly to one side, a familiar voice rang out.

‘Nagare! Kei! Someone! I need salt! Bring me salt!’

‘Hirai, is that you?’

No one had expected her to have come back so early, even if her sister’s funeral had now taken place. Kei looked at Nagare, her eyes wide in astonishment. Nagare stood there a moment in a daze. Given that he’d just delivered the terrible news about Kumi to Kohtake, to hear Hirai’s usual brisk tone must have been a little disorientating.

Hirai may have wanted the salt for spiritual purification, but it sounded more like yelling coming from a kitchen where someone was frantically making dinner.

‘Come on!’ This time, her shout had a low, sultry edge to it.

‘OK! Just a sec.’