“Now that I think about it, kids love doing that, don’t they? When Yohsuke was Miki’s age, it didn’t matter where we were, you wouldn’t believe what he would swap lyrics with. I remember it being so embarrassing.”

Smiling nostalgically, Kyoko looked toward the back room where Miki was.

“Speaking of Yohsuke, he hasn’t been coming in with you lately,” Nagare remarked, changing the subject.

Yohsuke was Kyoko’s son. He was in grade four at elementary school and a regular soccer nut. While Kinuyo was still in hospital, Kyoko and Yohsuke had often come to the café together, to take one of Nagare’s coffees to her.

“Huh?”

“Yohsuke.”

“Ah...yeah,” Kyoko muttered, reaching for her glass.

“He only came because Mum asked for coffee,” she explained and downed the remaining water.

Yohsuke had stopped coming to the café immediately after Kinuyo had died. After a six-month battle with illness, Kinuyo had wet her mouth with a coffee brewed by Nagare and taken her last breath as if falling asleep.

When Kinuyo passed away, the noncoffee-drinking elementary-school-aged Yohsuke no longer had a reason to come.

At the end of summer, six months after Kinuyo had first been hospitalized, Kyoko had said that she was “preparing herself.” But one month had passed since her mother’s death, and she was unable to disguise the grief in her expression.

Nagare hadn’t meant Yohsuke’s not coming to the café to lead to the subject of Kinuyo’s death, and he seemed to be regretting bringing it up.

“Ah. Sorry to mention it,” he said bowing his head slightly. Then suddenly...

“I can hear the cockerel crow! Cock-a-doodle cock-a-doodle COOCCKK-A-COCKOH!”

Miki’s energetic singing could be heard from the back room.

“Pmph!” Kyoko erupted at Miki’s alternative lyrics. The serious atmosphere she had created transformed instantly. Saved by Miki, she probably thought. Kyoko let out a raucous laugh.

“I think she just crossed a cockerel with a bush warbler, though,” she said looking at Nagare. He seemed to be thinking the same.

“Hey, Miki, you’re starting to sing some pretty odd lyrics!” he said and, sighing heavily, he headed off to the back room.

“Miki can be so cute sometimes,” Kyoko muttered to herself.

“Well, I must be going—thank you for the coffee,” said Kiyoshi, taking advantage of the change in atmosphere. He carried his bill to the cash register where he pulled out some change from his coin purse and placed it on the tray, nodding politely.

“Thanks for the wonderful advice today, it really helped,” he said, and with that, he left.

clang-dong

Only Kyoko and Kazu remained in the café.