喫茶カロン (The Restaurant)


    The restaurant was exactly where he had been told it would be. It wasn’t that hard to find, taking up much of the first floor of the small apartment building. The neighborhood was an old one, a mix of shops and small office buildings that had been there for decades, but the apartment building was a newer addition, perhaps only fifteen or twenty years. The restaurant itself was quaint. It had that look of passion project of the owner. Everything from the facade, to the hand painted sign above the entrance, had the sense of the owner’s painstaking attention to detail. Oddly enough, the name of the business was written in not only English and Japanese, but for some reason, also in Greek, Which Takuya could recognize, but could not read.


    Charon’s Cafe


    (χ?ρων)


    喫茶カロン


    Takuya had been back in Tokyo for several weeks, but in that time he had already heard about this place several times. It was something of an urban legend, rumors shared in whispers by the older and more senior residents of the few safe shelters Takuya had been able to find.


    At first, he had been surprised to see so many younger people gathering in the wooded areas of the parks and below the bridges that the less fortunate of Tokyo used for shelter. Perhaps it was because he was calm, polite, and deferential, but some of the regulars took an immediate liking to him. They shared with him tips, like locations of the shops he could go to where he could find discarded cardboard for making a makeshift shelter, and a few even told him some places where he could go to find reliable day jobs. Certainly valuable information these days.


    Charon’s Cafe was one of the secrets that he had heard of through this network. A rumored restaurant that was hardly ever open, but if you were lucky, and found it operating, they would kindly serve you a hot meal for nothing more than a conversation with the eccentric owner. Getting to it turned out to be more complicated, however. Some tried to explain how to find it, but couldn’t quite remember the location. Others said that it had been closed for some time. Takuya had begun to doubt the stories, when an old woman who had shared the space under a small bridge crossing the Kanda river told him how to find it, in a quiet neighborhood, not far away, nestled between Akihabara and Ueno.


    Indeed, at first glance, it would be easy to pass over it. It was so normal in appearance, and blended into the local atmosphere seamlessly, so much that his eyes passed over it several times. It had a welcoming and traditional facade for a western style cafe. Wooden cladding, large windows with the blinds drawn down, and a small hardwood bench by the entrance. It was only upon closer inspection that the care and detailed attention was noticeable.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    While most buildings nearby were typical city structures, all utilitarian and practical. They suffered from age and lack of personal care, which was normal in an old city like Tokyo. The restaurant, however, showed an unusual amount of care. Takuya had learned firsthand about the difficulty getting even the most simple aspects of design right, when he had gone through the steps for his own restaurant. That place now gone for years. Regarding this find, he noticed immediately that the windows and blinds were not standard. These were larger than what was typical, yet had custom made blinds made of some dark wood. Even the planks of wood appeared to be hand fitted, looking more like the work of a professional craftsman, rather than the level of work expected from most contractors in Tokyo. It was the level of care and detail a skilled builder would only put into their own home, rather than some small cafe in the city.


    Takuya wondered what kind of a person the owner of such a place must be like. Unfortunately, it appeared that he would not be able to find out. From all appearances, the restaurant appeared to be closed. The blinds were drawn, and the door shut. Despite it being lunchtime, there was no signboard out on the street, a ubiquitous presence for restaurants in the city. Still, instead of walking past the front door, he felt an odd compulsion to test the handle, just to be sure. He was intrigued by the odd little cafe, and since he had managed to find it, he decided to take this path as far as he could.


    Just as he was about to put his hand on the shiny brass door handle, it suddenly moved. Takuya jumped back as the door was pulled in, and he was greeted with yet another surprise. Just inside the doorway was a tiny maid. Barely over a meter in height, the figure was dressed in black and white, similar to the costumes that were popular just down the road in Akihabara. At first, she did not seem to notice Takuya, as her back was toward him while she placed a small board on a hook on the outside of the door. The board was also hand painted, and in large, ornate letters spelled “OPEN” in English. When she turned around, her face registered both surprise and delight.


    “Welcome!” She stammered, seeming to forget what to say in her surprise.


    It was now that Takuya realized that it was not a small person, but was in fact, a young child, perhaps as young as eight or nine. Caught completely by surprise and not knowing what to do, he simply stood in front of the door. Just then, a car drove by, surprising him enough that he took a step away from the road and toward the door. She reacted to his movement by stepping back, but leaving the door open for him to enter.


    Unsure of what to do, and motivated by both concern and curiosity about what such a young child was doing here, Takuya hesitated a moment, then relented, allowing his curiosity to lead him forward as he stepped into the odd and mysterious cafe.