《Charon’s Bedtime Stories》


 One.

    †Ë²è¥«¥í¥ó (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


    (¦Ö?¦Ñ¦Ø¦Í)


    †Ë²è¥«¥í¥ó


    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.

 Two.

    ÉÙÅ® (The Girl)


    He hadn¡¯t taken more than two steps into the restaurant before Takuya noticed that something was wrong.


    No matter how he looked at it, the restaurant was not ready to open. The air inside was stale, and he could see a thin layer of dust on everything. It was as though the shop was indeed closed, and had been for a while. Noting the immaculate detail of the outer design, it was hard to imagine that the owner was the type of person to open in such a state.


    The small girl stood inside, staring at him with wide eyes, as though surprised that he had followed her in. Then she shook her head and bowed to him.


    ¡°Welcome, dear customer¡­ Pl¡­please have a seat.¡± She stammered out hesitantly. She raised her hand toward one of several wooden tables by the windows, directing him to where to go.


    It was all too strange to be comfortable. From a design perspective, just like the impression from outside the restaurant, the interior was both stylish and beautiful to look at. It was furnished with the perfect size and shape of tables and chairs for a restaurant of this type and design. A mix of two and four-chair square tables, with plenty of distance between to offer a sense of space, but also giving the cafe a cozy and comfortable feel. The lighting was perfect, not too bright, with comfortable soft lights bathing the room in a warm glow. On the first floor, there wouldn¡¯t be the problem of too much external light, and the shades were closed now anyway, but Takuya imagined when properly opened, the space would feel lively and inviting, comfortable, and familiar. It was a nice, and somewhat familiar looking space.


    Yet, there was still something bothering Takuya. It was clear that opening prep had not been completed. Perhaps for a long time. There was also the issue of the only staff member present. A young child, clearly not old enough to be here alone. She stood beside the table, with an expectant look on her face. Just like the restaurant, her uniform was impeccable. It had to have been tailor fitted to make it look so perfect on her small frame. The uniform was a European-style maid¡¯s uniform, not the costume type favored by the otaku cafes in Akihabara. Her¡¯s had simple but classic design, with practical details and a long skirt that extended just above her matching shoes.


    ¡°Please, dear customer¡­¡±


    The look on her face pulled at his heart. He could see nervousness, frustration, and sadness, all while she was trying so hard to act like a professional waitress. It was hard to imagine what was going on in her mind, but despite part of his brain telling him to flee immediately, Takuya found that he couldn¡¯t leave. Instead, he walked over to the table, put his old and dusty knapsack on one of the four chairs, and sat down beside it. The look of relief on the girl¡¯s face reassured him that he had made the right choice. That was until a male voice came from the far end of the room.


    ¡°Sayla? What are you doing? Oh, it¡¯s so dusty. Come on. You¡¯re going to get your clothes all dirty.¡±


    An older gentleman emerged from a door on the far wall. He was dressed like a stereotypical retired former businessman. His grey hair was neatly trimmed and oiled, and he wore a light green sweater vest over a pressed white dress shirt and tan trousers. Takuya felt that he slightly resembled the former emperor. He had a kind, but dignified face. Then, the old man turned and noticed Takuya sitting at the table.


    ¡°Oh! Oh my, what¡­ Sayla? Did you open the door?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Of course! Sayla knows Sayla¡¯s job. Open the door. Put on the sign. Welcome the customer. Sayla remembers.¡±


    The girl spoke with a quivering voice, referring to her own name in the cute way children did. It simultaneously warmed and broke his heart to see the child struggling.


    ¡°Oh no. This is no good. The restaurant is not ready. Sayla, what have you done?¡±


    The man did not speak in anger, but in the calm and sympathetic voice a person might use when they find a pet had spilled a glass of water on the floor. The girl, however, took the rebuke poorly.


    ¡°No! You promised. You said we were going to do the restaurant. Sayla was good. You promised Sayla could do her job, just like before!¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Tears were already starting to form in the girl¡¯s eyes as she pouted. In a flash, the old man was at her side, stroking her head and holding her by the shoulder protectively.


    ¡°Yes, yes. I know. But we still need to do things before we can open. See? It¡¯s dusty. We can¡¯t let the customers come in and see things like this.¡±


    ¡°But Grandpa said Sayla was ready. You said¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. You look adorable. We just need a little more time to clean up the restaurant before we can open. We don¡¯t even have any food to serve.¡±


    Sayla¡¯s eyes opened wide at this piece of information.


    ¡°No food? How come? How can Sayla serve the customers?¡±


    Takuya was feeling more and more uncomfortable as the situation was starting to become clear to him. Entering the restaurant had been a mistake after all.


    ¡°Ah-kun is bringing the groceries now. He just needs some more time. Remember? Grandpa said we would clean the restaurant first, then we can open,¡± the old man adopted her childish speaking style, and it seemed to be getting through to her.


    ¡°Oh¡­ I forgot. Yes. We need to clean first, then open the restaurant.¡±


    Then her eyes shot open.


    ¡°Oh no! What can we do? Sayla already brought in the customer! But it¡¯s not clean yet.¡±


    She turned to look at Takuya with panic on her face.


    Taking that as a cue, he moved to stand up, and grabbed his bag.


    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, We are not ready to start business yet. I feel ashamed to ask, but could you perhaps come back another time?¡± The grandfather asked while bowing humbly.


    It was strange to have such a proper gentleman treat him so deferentially. Takuya knew that his appearance did not leave a good impression on most people.


    At twenty-five, he should still have his youthful looks, but the harsh life he had lived for the past few years had taken a toll. His hair was long and unevenly cut, he hadn¡¯t shaved in a couple of days, and the stubble was at that awkward stage where it made his face look dirty, even though he made a point to wash himself as best he could in the public bathroom near the small park he had stayed in a couple of nights ago. His clothing was not stained, and he washed each piece by hand at least once a week, but despite his best efforts, he knew he must look worn down and decrepit.


    Still, to have this man look at him without any anger, or disgust, and to treat him with a kind look and respect, took Takuya by surprise. He quickly stood up and bowed back in response.


    ¡°No, please. It was my fault. I shouldn¡¯t have entered without permission. I¡¯ll leave.¡±


    The old man looked up at Takuya, with a slightly puzzled expression, but it faded in an instant, and he again bowed.


    ¡°Again, I deeply apologize for our error. I hope this will not inconvenience you too much. We shall be opening properly soon¡­¡±


    Takuya caught the look of concern on the old man¡¯s face as he surveyed the restaurant. It was clear that this activity to please his granddaughter had gone a bit too far, and the old man seemed hesitant to commit to when the restaurant would actually be ready to open. Sensing the moment, Takuya shouldered his bag and moved to the door.


    ¡°No!¡± Shouted the girl.


    ¡°The customer can¡¯t go! He hasn¡¯t eaten yet!¡±


    Shocked by the outbust, Takuya turned to the girl, watching as the tears came freely now.


    ¡°He can¡¯t go! Papa said we should always let the customer eat. No matter what. Papa always said¡­¡± She was now squatting on the floor, her hand over her face, words no longer forming properly as she began to sob freely.


    Takuya stopped and caught the stricken look on the old man¡¯s face. He had seen expressions like this before. The sadness of not being able to do something you knew that you should. The feeling of helplessness in the face of the cruel nature of fate. This wasn¡¯t a simple child¡¯s tantrum. There was more going on, and Takuya couldn¡¯t stop the words that exited his lips, despite knowing the impropriety of them.


    ¡°Do¡­ Could I help in some way?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m sorry. Please don¡¯t mind us. She has just been a bit tired lately. I hope you won¡¯t take it poorly. Again, I apologize for causing you trouble¡­¡±


    The helpless look on the man¡¯s face again, forced the response before Takuya could fully grasp the moment.


    ¡°If¡­ if it¡¯s cleaning, I can help. I used to work in a restaurant. I know how to prep a dining room and kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, no, no. We couldn¡¯t possibly¡­¡±


    ¡°Please, it wouldn¡¯t be trouble for me in the least. Besides, I came here because I don¡¯t have any¡­¡±


    He managed to stop the words that were falling unbidden from his mouth, but it was perhaps a moment too late. He was just here for a free meal, after all. Takuya was sure that any goodwill the old man had held for him, was now out the door. The same door he knew he should move to quickly exit.


    Instead of the expected look of judging disapproval, the old man smiled. He shook his head, as if remembering something.


    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry. I have treated you poorly. Sayla is right. You are the customer, and we cannot let you leave without eating first. That is a rule of this establishment.¡±


    With those words, the little girl stopped crying and looked up. Her tear-streaked face was searching for comfort from her grandfather. He moved over quickly, removing a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping the girl¡¯s face gently.


    ¡°Really? He is going to stay?¡±


    There were now two pairs of eyes on him, and Takuya felt very uncomfortable. Despite not fully understanding the situation, however, he felt in his heart that he knew the correct response. He placed his bag back on the chair, then again, bowed deeply.


    ¡°I am in your care.¡±

 Three.

    ¸¡ÀËÕß (The Vagabond)


    ¡°Sayla is a beautiful name.¡±


    The girl beamed with pride after Takuya complimented her.


    ¡°Sayla loves Sayla¡¯s name. Sayla¡¯s Papa picked it. Sayla¡¯s mama didn¡¯t like it, though. Mama wanted to call Sayla Ska-let instead.¡±


    It was clear that Sayla still had difficulty pronouncing some foreign words, including what Takuya assumed was the Western name Scarlett. Perhaps named after the American actress, he wondered. He had learned a bit about the people he was now cleaning the restaurant with by talking with them as they cleaned the restaurant. The old man was Mr. Takeda, and the young girl was his granddaughter, Sayla. The former owner of the restaurant was Sayla¡¯s father, and had unfortunately passed away about half a year prior. Sayla¡¯s mother was apparently a successful costume designer, and was currently working temporarily in the United States, making costumes for those comic book super hero movies that were popular these days. While she was away, Sayla was staying with her paternal grandparents.


    ¡°Sayla likes this name. Do you know what it means? It means from the stars. Sayla¡¯s Papa told her a story about the name when Sayla was little. In the story, Sayla was a princess who lived in a floating castle high up in the sky. Sayla lived in the castle with her brother. Sayla doesn¡¯t have a brother though, but that Sayla had a brother. Then, bad people made them leave the castle. So they came down to the ground. Then Sayla had a boyfriend, and the boyfriend and Sayla¡¯s brother got into a fight. But then they made up, and they all moved back up into the sky and lived in the castle together.¡±


    Takuya was finding it difficult to keep up with the girl, who was now chattering away non-stop. She was wiping all the tables down, while her grandfather was mopping the dining area floor. Takuya was busy, wiping down every other surface, cleaning up the dust that had coated the restaurant since it had been unceremoniously closed by the owner¡¯s passing. Luckily, having worked in kitchens nearly his entire adult life, Takuya was able to quickly locate and make use of all the prep and cleaning supplies. After making sure the kitchen was sanitary and spotless, they had moved into the dining area. While the lunch period had passed, they would certainly have everything ready for dinner, or perhaps the next day¡¯s service, if, in fact, that was what they intended to do.


    ¡°Sayla¡¯s Papa would tell Sayla stories all the time. That¡¯s why Sayla loves the restaurant. Papa would tell Sayla a different story every time. Papa never ran out of stories. There was one story about a singing princess who made evil giants become friends, or the three sisters who became knights to fight the bad men who wanted to steal their Papa¡¯s treasure. Oh, and there was another one about a girl who had magic hands, and could punch bad people really hard. Sayla liked the stories with little girls, because Sayla is a girl. Because Papa said that the girls should become strong enough to beat up any bad men. Sayla isn¡¯t strong, though. Sayla is just normal, and Mama says Sayla doesn¡¯t need to fight anyone.¡±


    As they cleaned, her grandfather stayed by her side, saying little, but always watching her as if he was afraid she would fall and break at any moment. They hadn¡¯t said anything about how her father had passed, but Takuya had the impression it was not unexpected. Perhaps a long-term illness, or something similar. The old man doted on the girl, as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in the world. It was an instinct that Takuya could relate to somewhat.


    ¡°Uncle Takkun?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm?¡± He responded lamely. He had only known the child for a few hours, but she was already calling him uncle. He mused.


    ¡°Do you know any stories?¡±


    He grimaced slightly, but quickly recovered. Looking to Mr. Takeda for guidance, the old man simply nodded and smiled. It was clear who was calling the shots today, and he quickly fell into line once again.


    ¡°Yes, would you like to hear one?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please. Papa always told Sayla stories when she helps at the restaurant¡­¡±


    He could see the cloud starting to form over the child, so he interrupted.


    ¡°Did your Papa ever tell you who Charon is?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Papa said Charon is¡­ um. He has a boat, and¡­ I forgot.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright, because I know a story about Charon that not many people know. Maybe it is different than your Papa¡¯s story. Would you like to hear it?¡±


    Sayla nodded her head enthusiastically, and Takuya noticed Mr. Takeda looking at him with a deeper interest than before.


    ¡°Okay. Let me tell you a story about Charon and the sparrow.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    <hr>


    While some would tell you that Charon is nothing but a boatman who takes bad people to bad places, the truth is that Charon is actually an angel. He was given the task of guiding people to their proper reward, but only after they had lived a full life.


    There once was a young man. This man was a good person, and lived a very happy life. He had a beautiful wife, and an equally beautiful baby daughter. He loved them both dearly, and considered himself blessed to have such a perfect life.


    One day, however, his daughter became sick. She cried from her discomfort, and wouldn¡¯t sleep, no matter what he tried. Then, one night, while he held his baby in his arms, he started to tell her a story. It was a silly story that he made up, about knights and, castles, and dragons, and he was embarrassed by his foolish tale, but suddenly his daughter¡¯s face eased, and she quickly fell asleep.


    The man was so overjoyed at her reaction, that he swore at that moment, to tell his daughter a different story every night before she went to sleep for ten thousand nights if she wanted one. He loved his baby girl, and knew that he would do anything to help her live a happy and peaceful life.


    Indeed, as he had promised, every night after that, he would tell his daughter a new story as she was falling asleep, and that continued for many more nights that followed.


    But it was difficult to keep coming up with new stories. He started to ask his friends and family to share new stories with him so that he could keep coming up with something new to tell his daughter, but it was a struggle. Eventually he missed a night, then a few more. Finally, he forgot about his promise entirely. His daughter was now healthy and sleeping easily each night, so he soon went back to his old routine.


    Then, one day, he was out working, and when he came home, his house was empty. He couldn¡¯t find his wife or daughter anywhere. He ran around to every house asking about them, but no one knew where they were, until an old woman grasped his hand and pulled him close to whisper into his ear.


    ¡°They have gone with Charon.¡±


    The man was filled with fear, and he shook the old woman, begging her to tell him it wasn¡¯t true, but she wouldn¡¯t say anything else to him. Finally, he decided to go see Charon and learn the truth for himself.


    Charon lived near a river deep in the forest, and the man ran into trees, desperate to find out the truth. The trip took several days, and along the way, he did not eat, drink, or sleep. He did not rest until he saw the small shack by the lake.


    He had to walk past many people to get to the shack. Everyone knew that Charon was the only one who could take a person to their final reward, but the angel was clear that only those who lived a full life could travel beyond the river. Many came here, begging him to take them, or to bring someone back, but he always refused these requests, so these people stayed here forever, always staring at the river, and wishing they could reach the land beyond.


    When the man reached the angel, he demanded to know where his family was. It was then that his heart was truly broken, as indeed, Charon had taken both his wife and daughter to their reward. The man then begged the angel to take him to see them, but of course, Charon refused.


    ¡°You are not qualified. You may not go.¡±


    The man argued, begged, and even threatened the angel, but to no avail.


    ¡°You are not qualified. You may not go,¡± was all the angel would say to him.


    He stayed there for many days and nights, but nothing ever changed. That is until one day, when something indeed changed.


    From over the river, a small bird flew and landed on the man¡¯s shoulder as though he were a tree. He was surprised, but so was the angel. Charon walked up to the man and examined the bird. It was a common sparrow. Nothing was out of the ordinary about it, except its point of origin.


    ¡°Fascinating. I have never seen this happen,¡± the angel admitted to the man.


    ¡°What is it?¡± The man asked, pointing to the bird.


    ¡°It is¡­ a gift. It must have come from someone who cares deeply for you, and it is also proof that you are worthy of it.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± The man asked.


    ¡°It means¡­ I can tell you, but first, may I ask you something?¡±


    The man was shocked. He had never heard of the angel asking someone a question. He was dumbfounded, but he nodded.


    ¡°Have you ever harmed another person intentionally?¡±


    The man shook his head quickly. He had never willingly hurt anyone in his life.


    ¡°Have you ever taken what is not rightfully yours?¡±


    Again, he shook his head. ¡°I would never steal,¡± the man responded.


    ¡°One final question. Have you ever broken a sacred promise?¡±


    Again the man started to shake his head, but then froze suddenly, his heart dropping to his boots. Slowly his eyes rose to look the angel in the face.


    ¡°Yes¡­ I have. I have broken an oath,¡± he said shame and regret burning his face.


    ¡°I see. What promise did you break?¡±


    ¡°I swore. I promised to tell my daughter a new story every night, so that she would sleep peacefully. I promised her ten thousand stories.¡±


    The angel looked at the man with pitying sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°Then, until you fulfill this oath, you will not be allowed to pass.¡±


    ¡°How? How can I keep the promise? She is not here any longer. I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    The angel seemed to think about the problem for a moment, before pointing to the bird, perched on the man¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°The bird. It will help you. Each night, tell the sparrow your story, and while you sleep, it will travel to your daughter and deliver your duty to her.¡±


    The man looked at the tiny animal with hope and tears in his eyes.


    ¡°Are you telling me the truth? I can see them again?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but this is a single chance, one that must have come at a great cost. Know well that you will not receive another. If the bird is not given a story every day, it will leave and never return. There will be no second chances.¡±


    The man looked at the angel with a face full of grim determination.


    ¡°If I can see them again, I will not falter again.¡±


    With that, the man left the river, and the forest, and the village of his birth. He set forth on a journey to faraway lands, and distant shores, all so that he could learn new stories so that each night he could pass another on to the bird so that his daughter could hear it.


    In this way, the days passed, then months, then years, and decades. Every night, without fail, the man would sit with the bird, telling it a new story. Until one day-


    <hr>


    The door to the back entrance of the restaurant opened, and a young man entered, carrying several heavy and full grocery bags.


    ¡°Ah-kun, to the rescue!¡±

 Four.

    Ìá°¸ (The Offer)


    Staring at himself in the mirror, Takuya took stock of his appearance for the first time in ages. Thanks to Mr. Takeda, he had enjoyed the first good shower in a long time. I nice hot shower was a rare treat. He usually did a fair job of keeping clean using public restrooms, only rarely splurging on a paid shower room in a manga cafe, or a PC room. Taking his time in a private bathroom like this, however, was a sorely missed luxury. Looking at his reflection, Takuya smiled, reminding himself that he cleaned up nicely.


    Wiping his chin, he enjoyed the sensation of the smooth skin, courtesy of the shaving kit loaned to him by the owner. After they had finished cleaning the restaurant from ceiling to floor, he had been planning to move on, but Mr. Takeda insisted that he stay, and even ordered some food to be delivered. He had made a point of allowing Takuya to use the bathroom in the attached apartment, meanwhile, his dusty traveling clothes were now in the washing machine. He was truly grateful for this chance to clean up, feeling more like himself than he had in months. He realized how much he missed the convenience of a typical Japanese bathroom.


    After cleaning himself up, he put on the clothing that Mr. Takeda had found for him to wear while his own clothing dried. A T-shirt, sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Of course, he always made sure he had a few pairs of clean underwear in the bottom of his bag. He realized that these items must have belonged to the former owner, the deceased father of the little girl, and he had to admit that it felt a bit awkward. Still, he felt grateful for the kindness, and was drawn to the strange family he had stumbled upon.


    While childish, the girl, Sayla, was not spoiled. He remembered once hearing someone say that you could not create a spoiled child only by showering them with love; you do it by indulging them with everything but love. Seeing this sweet young child, he felt that this might be true. Still, it hurt his heart to see the pain she was clearly still dealing with. The same went for the grandfather, Mr. Takeda.


    The man was obviously well-educated and distinguished. He held himself like a man who had lived a life of discipline and hard work, yet he treated Takuya with respect and generosity. While most people, even his own countrymen, looked down on him with suspicion or even disgust, he felt his heart tremble to have a complete stranger treat him like a regular person again, as though he had not already fallen from society.


    Takuya frowned as he looked into the mirror. His hair was still a mess, even after using the hairdryer, another luxury he had sorely missed. It was about time he trimmed it back again, but this certainly wasn¡¯t the place for that. He wished he had some oil to keep it under control, but at least it was clean, if a bit shaggy and unkempt.


    He re-entered the restaurant directly through the doorway shared with the attached apartment and found Mr. Takeda and Seyla setting one of the larger tables with the food that had been delivered while he was getting cleaned up. The new arrival, Ah-kun, was in the kitchen, storing the groceries and supplies he had brought with him.


    This boy was another surprise. He introduced himself as Agbor, and had enthusiastically produced a business card when he was introduced to Takuya. This card was simple, the kind you could get printed at any stationary shop, with very little information printed on it.


    AGBOR


    Ooba Industries (Co.Ltd.)


    HP (090) 0311-XX28


    It was a very strange card. He couldn¡¯t even tell if the name printed in English letters was a first name or a last name, and there was no address, or title, or even an email listed. He had never heard of the company, and it was impossible to tell what the young man who gave him the card did. Even his appearance was unusual. Agbor, or Ah-Kun, as he insisted that he be called, was a very dark-skinned boy of obvious African descent, though his Japanese was as fluent as any other youth of his age. He even had that accelerated, mix of staccato and slurred words that was common amongst the young people in the city. He introduced himself as twenty years old, but his smooth skin, shaved head, and large eyes made him look closer to fifteen.


    The old man seemed to trust him, however, and they spoke to each other and acted casually with a sense of familiarity that comes from a long relationship.


    ¡°How is your boss treating you these days, Ah-kun?¡± Mr Takeda called out.


    ¡°You know him. He¡¯s busy with his empire. I hardly even see him these days.¡±


    ¡°You should tell him to hire more people. He only has you.¡±


    ¡°You know him, He doesn¡¯t like letting strangers into his business. Trust issues.¡±


    Takuya caught Ah-kun giving him a wink, and a wide toothy grin. He wasn¡¯t sure what that meant, or even who they were referring to, but he didn¡¯t feel any hostility or even any concern from the young man over his presence in the restaurant. He was sure that Mr. Takeda must have explained who and what he was while he was showering, and he was sensitive to how people perceived him for a good reason.Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Come! The food is ready. It¡¯s late, and you must be starving.¡± Mr. Takeda motioned for Takuya to sit down at the table where places had been set for everyone.


    ¡°Eel? That¡¯s awesome! Lucky!¡± Ah-kun exclaimed when he saw the square lacquered boxes sitting on the table.


    ¡°You ordered from the place in Suehirocho, right? That place is the best!¡±


    Takuya¡¯s stomach growled loudly as he imagined what awaited under the lid of the box. Sayla laughed at his reaction, and Mr. Takeda smiled, then motioned for him to sit again. With a sheepish look, Takuya sat down. He slowly lifted the lid of the box, and the aroma of charcoal-grilled eel wafted out and dominated his senses. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had eaten grilled eel. It had been years at least. Lifting the lid of the box, he took in the sight of the plump meat, covered in thick, sticky sauce, over a bed of perfectly cooked, premium rice. He closed his eyes and let the aroma fill his nose.


    ¡°Thank you for the meal.¡± He said humbly, though his mouth was now salivating so much he feared he would spit while speaking.


    ¡°Eat! This shop raises its own eels. You won¡¯t find any fresher in Tokyo.¡±


    Raising his chopsticks, Takuya took a bite and was instantly overcome. The eel was cooked perfectly, and as promised, it was indeed very fresh. The sauce was sweet and salty, and the rice was cooked perfectly, with just the right amount of moisture to complement the texture of the meat.


    For a while, the room was silent, while they all dug into the delicious meal. Takuya savored every bite, but the box was emptied out before he even realized it.


    ¡°Ah-kun, we are planning to open the restaurant again. Just a little, maybe a couple of days a week. Just until Sayla has to go back to school.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, it¡¯s summer vacation. Don¡¯t you want to go traveling?¡± Ah-kun replied.


    ¡°Well, we had thought about going to Los Angeles to visit Sayla¡¯s mother, but it seems she is very busy with work, so she won¡¯t be able to take off any time, and Sayla said she wanted to open the restaurant again.¡±


    The young man nodded, and then suddenly, his head stopped moving.


    ¡°Wait. You don¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°He said to use you how we want.¡± Mr. Takeda said with an evil glint in his eyes.


    ¡°Ahh! The betrayal! No way, I¡¯m so busy already. How could he?¡±


    Takuya was amazed to see how the boy kept his smile, even when he was in obvious distress. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly what was being discussed, but it appeared that Mr. Takeda had somehow enlisted Ah-kun¡¯s cooperation for Sayla¡¯s little project.


    ¡°I can help with getting supplies and stuff, but I don¡¯t know anything about working in a restaurant,¡± Ah-kun protested.


    ¡°You can cook, though, right?¡± Mr. Takeda looked taken back.


    ¡°Huh? No way. Nothing but instant ramen.¡±


    ¡°But your father¡­ He¡¯s such an excellent cook.¡±


    ¡°My dad only cooks that British crap. Besides, he never even taught me that. Thank goodness.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ I see. That is troubling.¡±


    Mr. Takeda crossed his arms and looked down at the table. Meanwhile, Takuya could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He was being set up.


    ¡°Mr. Miyabashi?¡±


    It had been so long since he had been addressed formally that he didn¡¯t even respond.


    ¡°Mr. Miyabayashi?¡± The old gentleman asked again in a patient voice.


    ¡°Uh¡­ yes?¡±


    ¡°I know we have imposed on you far too much already, but you did mention you used to work in a restaurant before, correct?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes?¡±


    ¡°What kind of restaurant was it?¡±


    Takuya clenched his jaw. This was a difficult topic for him, but he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he was opposed to the direction the conversation was going in.


    ¡°Well¡­ I used to work in a typical Japanese diner. But I¡¯ve also done part-time work in lots of other restaurants. I also would take jobs in places while I was living abroad.¡±


    ¡°Oh! You lived overseas? Where did you go?¡± Mr. Takeda asked with genuine interest.


    ¡°Lots of places, Estonia, Georgia, Spain, Egypt, Indonesia, India¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh my! Quite a traveler, then. You worked as a chef in those places?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing like that. I was just traveling. Sometimes, I¡¯d make a bit of money working in a kitchen here or there. Washing dishes, or cleaning up. I¡­ I never went to college. Working in restaurants is all I know. I don¡¯t have any real skills.¡± He couldn¡¯t raise his eyes, feeling ashamed in front of these people.


    ¡°Mr. Miyabayashi. Please don¡¯t say that. Everyone has a story. We all have value, as long as we can find a way to contribute. We don¡¯t know each other, but I can tell, just by the way you have acted, that you are a man of generosity and kindness. That alone makes you a valuable member of society.¡±


    Takuya raised his eyes and saw Mr. Takeda smiling at him with a kind and gentle expression, the look he always imagined his parents might have given to him had he known them. Perhaps the man was very gifted at motivating, or controlling other people. He felt a strong desire to gain this man¡¯s approval. Whatever the old man wanted, Takuya suddenly wanted to be part of it if possible.


    Then guilt gripped his heart again, filling his mind with doubt and regret. He couldn¡¯t keep the conflict from his face, and the old man reacted to his struggle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to tie you down. Just¡­ Perhaps if you could help me out a bit for the next few weeks¡­ If you have other plans, or obligations¡ª¡°


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Takuya cursed inwardly. He didn¡¯t know what to do. He couldn¡¯t tell if there was an opportunity for him here, perhaps something big, or not. But another part of him was afraid of what stopping here might mean.


    ¡°Well, actually, I¡¯m not the one in charge here. Maybe you should talk to the real boss of this place,¡± Mr. Takeda said, with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.


    Takuya looked up, confused. Mr. Takeda was not the owner? Who was in charge then? He wondered if this was a good time to excuse himself.


    ¡°What do you think, Sayla? Would you like Mr. Miyabayashi to help with the restaurant?¡±


    Surprised, Takuya turned to look at the girl who was still attacking her lunch with a spoon. She stopped torturing the food and looked up at him with a slight frown and penetrating glare.


    ¡°Uncle Takkun? Hmmm. Sayla doesn¡¯t know. He can clean well, but isn¡¯t he a customer? Can he even cook?¡±

 Five.

    ÁÏÀí·¨ (The Recipe)


    Takuya found a clean dishtowel and used it as a bandana to cover up his hair. As he was tying it up, he instantly regretted it as Sayla burst into laughter. His new boss had a mean streak, he noted. Maybe he should splurge on a real haircut, he thought to himself.


    Well, she wasn¡¯t his new boss yet. First, he had to pass the audition. When he had asked her what she wanted him to cook, she looked thoughtful for a moment, then shouted,


    ¡°Something yummy!¡±


    That kind of response should have been expected, he realized.


    ¡°Rice, soup, noodles, or salad?¡±


    Sayla scratched her head.


    ¡°Hmmm. Rice!¡±


    ¡°Okay, Japanese food, or something different?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ Maybe¡­ something different!¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Takuya responded seriously. He had gone through the groceries that Ah-Kun had brought, as well as the stock of basic ingredients that were stored in the kitchen and pantry. Again, he was shocked by how well everything was set up. The appliances were all top-of-the-line for a small restaurant like this. Some were even hotel-grade, which felt like a waste. The pantry was well stocked with seasonings and oils, and he was almost at a loss for an idea as he had too many possibilities to choose from. Then he remembered the bag of what looked like thin orange plastic disks that he had discovered, and got an idea.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you something yummy then.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± Sayla answered with a huge grin, then went and sat by her grandfather.


    ¡°Are you really okay helping me out?¡± He asked the nervous looking Ah-Kun, who apparently had been demoted to assistant chef, much to his relief.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. I really don¡¯t know how to do anything but boil water, though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll show you what to do. This should be pretty simple.¡±


    He set out to gather the ingredients, with Ah-Kun following closely behind.


    ¡°Here, measure out six cups of this, then wash it in the rice pot.¡±


    He handed a bag of Thai jasmine rice to the younger man. Basmati rice would have been more authentic, but the jasmine rice would be fine. He then portioned out the rest of the ingredients, and while he didn¡¯t have everything he would have liked, he could cobble together reasonable substitutes for all the critical ingredients.


    After checking the rice, he measured out the water in the pot, making sure it was about ten percent less than normal. Usually, he would cook the rice a day in advance, then store it to dehydrate it a bit, but this would work out about the same and could be done in far less time. In the industrial rice cooker, the rice should be ready in about twenty minutes.


    He set Ah-Kun to wash the vegetables while he dissolved some brown sugar with cooking wine and mirin into a small pot and set it to warm up on the stove. Once it was fully dissolved, he added in an equal amount of dark soy sauce. He kept the heat as low as possible, and had to keep watching it and stirring it so that it wouldn¡¯t burn. While he was doing this, he dropped a large piece of dried kelp into a big pot, and filled it halfway. After turning on the heat, he added in some dried bonito shavings to make a light dashi soup. Finally, he took the sweet soy sauce off the stove to cool. It was now almost as thick as honey, and he nodded after tasting it.


    As soon as the dashi started boiling, he lowered the heat to the lowest level, then added in three large chicken breasts that he had already pounded flat. Even at the low heat, they should cook quickly, around ten minutes, which was about perfect. While it cooked, he took a bowl of dried small shrimps that he had been soaking in water, and placed them in the food processor, along with a small amount of clean water, and blended them until they became a thin paste. Finally, he diced up some shallots, ginger, and garlic, and placed everything into separate containers.


    He marveled again at how well everything in the kitchen was organized. He was able to find everything he needed quickly, and he found nearly everything he could have wanted. This was the nicest kitchen he had ever worked in by far, and it made him embarrassed to recall how rough his own kitchen had been when he was starting out. It felt more like a cooking school, with everything properly organized, yet nothing was worn out like it would be in a real kitchen, run by a veteran chef. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed with his assessment. Everything was set up like a cooking classroom, not a make-it-or-break-it commercial restaurant. It just made Takuya more curious as to what the previous owner had been doing, and how did they stay in business in the first place.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He took out the chicken and placed the pieces into a large bowl. Then, he set the bowl under the food processor and used the mixer on a low setting. Within moments, he had a bowl full of shredded chicken meat.


    Once the rice had finished cooking, he removed about half of it and spread it out onto a large baking sheet to cool, and to let the moisture steam out of it. Tasting the rice, it was a perfect al dente. Cooked through, but a bit more firm than normal. Next, he cracked half a dozen eggs, putting the yolks in one bowl and the whites in another. He mixed the yolks until they became a thick, smooth liquid. He placed the cooled rice into a large bowl, then, while mixing it slowly with a large wooden spoon, poured in half the yolk liquid.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said to Aj-kun, who was watching everything with an impressed look on his face. He


    ¡°Keep stirring it slowly until every grain of rice is evenly coated with the egg yolk.¡±


    As he handed the younger man the bowl, he grasped his hand and placed the spoon in it, continuing to stir it at the same speed. After a few seconds, Ah-Kun smiled and seemed to have grasped the speed and motion of the stirring.


    ¡°Perfect. Just like that. Should be ready in a minute or so.¡±


    With the ingredients more or less ready, Takuya was finally ready to start cooking in earnest.


    He took a large wok and oiled it well, heating it with the highest flame. Once it was starting to smoke, he threw in the shallots, garlic, and ginger. Seconds later, he added shrimp paste. He stirred the ingredients constantly to prevent them from burning, and controlled the heat by lifting and moving the wok. He poured in the egg whites and the rest of the yolk, stirring quickly until the started to harden. Next came the rice. Dumping the whole bowl of rice on top of the other ingredients, he switched to using the back of a ladle to break apart clumps and separate all the rice grains. Once they were all moving easily around the wok, he added in a generous amount of the sweet soy sauce he had made. Immediately, the sweet and savory smell filled the kitchen.


    Takuya smiled. It had been a while since he had been able to cook so freely. Just as he had explained, most of the time, he had been simply cleaning tables and washing dishes. He never spent much time in any of the cities he had traveled to. Several times, he had been able to help with cooking, but even then, he was simply filling in the shop¡¯s orders. He had never taken the lead like he had just done. Seeing it all come together reminded him of the satisfaction he used to get when he made a dish in his old restaurant. In the back of his head, a part of him wondered if he might be hoping to find a way back to those days somehow.


    He pushed back those thoughts as soon as they popped into his mind. There was no going back. That was impossible.


    Soon, the rice was coated, and he quickly mixed in the chicken, simply stirring everything together until it was evenly mixed. Then, he poured everything into a large serving bowl.


    Splashing more oil into the wok, he started cracking eggs into the high heat, one after another. In a minute, he had placed half a dozen, perfectly fried eggs onto a plate, with still liquid yolks, glistening like a child¡¯s depiction of a daisy, and just a bit of char around the edges. On the counter, he placed four plates, and carefully plated one serving, First laying down a leaf of lettuce, scooping a serving of the black and yellow rice on top of the lettuce, then adding several sliced cucumbers and tomatoes on the side. Then he finished it off with a sunny-side-up fried egg atop the mountain of rice.


    He motioned to Ah-Kun.


    ¡°Can you make three more plates like that?¡±


    For a moment, the ever-present smile faded a bit, but it was only a moment.


    ¡°S¡­ sure, boss. No problem.¡±


    ¡°Sayla, I¡¯m almost finished. Would you like to see some cooking magic before we try it?¡±


    ¡°What? Magic? Really? Sayla wants to see!¡±


    ¡°Alright. But it¡¯s a bit dangerous. You have to stay where I tell you and don¡¯t move, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± She replied, a suspicious look on her face.


    ¡°Alright. Come over here.¡±


    He pointed to a spot more than a meter away from the stove, then lifted her to sit on top of the counter so that she could see what he was going to do. Mr. Takeda moved to stand beside her and put his arm around her so that Sayla wouldn¡¯t be able to move closer, or fall off the counter.


    ¡°Good. Here, look at this.¡±


    He handed the girl one of the orange translucent chips he had found earlier.


    ¡°Don¡¯t eat it. It is too hard and won¡¯t taste good,¡± he warned.


    Sayla examined the chip curiously, while Takuya turned up the heat on the wok, and poured in more oil, filling the bottom one third of it. Soon, the oil was bubbling and smoking. Once in a while, it would emit a loud pop, and oil would splash out, but Sayla was far enough away that she wasn¡¯t in danger, though she squealed in surprise the first time it happened.


    ¡°Now, watch this,¡± he said with a smile.


    Carefully slipping one chip into the oil, he waited a few seconds until it puffed up like popcorn. Using long chopsticks to remove it, he placed it on a paper towel to catch the oil. Then he carefully dropped a handful of the chips into the wok.


    Sayla¡¯s eyes were like saucers as she watched the small discs turn into large white¡­ flowers.


    ¡°These are like rice crackers, but made out of shrimp,¡± Takuya explained cheerfully. This seemed to defy all logic and reason to the child.


    ¡°Shrimp? No! You¡¯re lying!¡±


    Takuya laughed.


    ¡°No, I swear it¡¯s true. Maybe next time I can show you. It just takes too long to do it today. Here, try one.¡±


    As soon as he had fished out all the chips from the oil and placed them on the paper towel, he picked up the first one he had made, which had already cooled, and snapped it in half, handing one piece to Sayla, then popping the other into his own mouth, biting down with a loud crunch.


    Sayla was shocked, but took the offering. After seeing Takuya eat some, she cautiously nibbled on the piece he had given her. Again, her eyes went wide.


    ¡°Tasty¡­¡± she whispered.


    Takuya quickly filled up a bowl full of chips, then turned off the stove. He placed a few on each of the plates that Ah-Kun had made, then they moved everything over to the table so they could try out Takuya¡¯s cooking.


    ¡°This dish is called ¡®nasi goreng,¡¯ a type of fried rice. I learned how to make it like this in Indonesia, but I tweaked the recipe a bit, I hope you like it.¡±