Hypothetically, even if she returned to the day Kinuyo was hospitalized and wrote a letter to Yukio, the principle of this rule would prevent any letter she sent from being delivered to him. Even if that letter were delivered, for some reason, he would never read it. As a result, he would suddenly learn of Kinuyo’s passing without even having known that she had been hospitalized. Furious, he would not make an appearance at her funeral. Because that is how the rule works. And if she couldn’t change reality, there was no point returning to the past.

“I really understand Mum’s feelings about not wanting to cause Yukio any worry...”

But it was precisely this reasoning that put Kyoko in the double bind that now caused her such distress.

“But...”

Kyoko covered her face with both hands and her shoulders started to quake. Kazu stuck to the job of waitress, and without much call for her services right now, time flowed by silently.

“I can see Daddy coming along!

Poot-poot poot-poot farty bug

Chirping throughout the long autumn night.

Oh, what fun to hear this insect symphony!”

Miki’s odd alternative lyrics could be heard coming from the back room. But this time, Kyoko’s laughter did not echo through the café.

That evening...

Kazu was alone in the café. Well, strictly speaking, both Kazu and the woman in the dress were there. Kazu was tidying up, and the woman in the dress was, as usual, quietly reading her novel. She seemed to be nearing the end. She was now holding down only a few unread pages with her left hand.

Kazu enjoyed this time in the café after it was closed. It wasn’t because she particularly liked tidying up or cleaning, she simply enjoyed completing a task in silence without thinking about anything. This was the same enjoyment she felt when drawing.

In her art, Kazu was particularly skilled at using a pencil to draw something she could see in front of her in photo-realistic detail. She enjoyed the technique known as hyperrealism. She didn’t just draw anything, however. If it was something visible in the real world, she would draw it. But she never drew from her imagination, nor did she draw anything that couldn’t exist. Also, her drawings always excluded subjective feeling. She simply enjoyed the process of depicting what she saw on a canvas without thinking about anything.

Flap!

The sound of the woman in the dress shutting the book after having finished it reverberated throughout the café.

The woman placed the novel in one corner of the table and reached her hand to the coffee cup. Spying this, Kazu pulled out a novel from under the counter and approached the woman.

“This one probably won’t be completely to your taste,” Kazu said as she placed the book in front of the woman and collected the one left on the table.