Chapter Text
[a story of infinitely repeating cycles told in multiple acts]
act i. the unexpected in yanaka
(the very idea of history constantly being in motion, and at the same time, in a state of near repetition)
chapter one.
There were not many people left in Tokyo that believed in fate; and of those that did, only one came came in to Amaruya that day. Her hair was white, limp against the fading blue of the coat she had worn for all her past visits, and would wear until the day that she died.
Amongst the teas in the shop, her coat smelled of memories.
She had not spoken of fate. She had been silent; but Shou knew, as his gaze followed the woman out of the shop, that she did believe in it - she had spoken of fate when she had visited once, how long ago he could not remember. She had chuckled, and called it fate when she came across an old blend, black tea with anise and cinnamon, and she had told Shou, humbly smiling, that her husband had hated it. The old man was gone now; she’d laughed.
Black tea; anise and cinnamon. Shou had learned it off by heart.
The woman had been one of a handful of customers that day, nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday afternoon. A girl in her teens, wearing what had to be the previous day’s clothing, had asked for the cheapest matcha they had. Not long after, a confused-looking Western couple had entered. They had left with confused looks and haste, without as much as a word to the boy behind the counter.
Then, hours had passed; not a customer, nothing. There had only been the sounds of passers-by outside, a few singing birds, and a child without care or reason to stop running.
Amaruya was quiet. Shou sighed, tapping his fingers.
With a quick glance to make sure his father was not behind him, he groaned and slumped on the counter. It had been a mistake to even bother working today. He had woken up tired and aching that morning. A few hours of delivery duties had not made things better, and neither had the familiar blue-coated woman with her usual order; anise and cinnamon.
A clock ticked by. Tick-tocks echoed on from the corridor. Shou thought of walking back to check the time, but his body complained. Moving felt like far too much effort. There was no point in it, not until someone came in and asked him for something. Nothing had happened, not for a while; and here he was, tired and only growing more tired as the minutes ticked by, with only faint sounds of voices and steps from outside.
Inside was different. Inside was peaceful.
Just enough to catch up on sleep, he thought. I could sleep for a little bit.
The smells of anise and cinnamon; anise and cinnamon and nutmeg and spices; all of these things, peace and quiet and silence, and there was not a single chime of the welcoming bells. They were smells that he loved. That afternoon, they were not quite enough.
For once, amongst the familiar smells, Shou knew he couldn’t deny his boredom.
Outside, people were living their lives. He was supposed to be working; instead, he was idle with boredom. The ticks of the distant clock seemed aimless, going nowhere for hours. He had considered reorganising Amaruya’s countless shelves and drawers, but shook his head at the thought of effort.
Reorganising the entire place, top to bottom, would take half the day, if not all of it. Starting on something would mean finishing. If he stopped partway, his father would force him to end it. Doing nothing felt safer. He only had a few more hours before the place would be shut.
He sighed. At least, he had something to look forward to.
Five o’clock would be soon. He would shut the place up, throw off his uniform apron, tug the elastic out of his hair - it would hurt, but it would be worth it - flop on the bed, and stay undisturbed for hours. His father wouldn’t need to know the report for the day. Nothing had happened of note. He could escape.
He needed the escape. He needed any kind of calm after the boredom.
Please don’t make me work like this tomorrow, he thought, as if his father was reading his mind. There isn’t anything. I could be working on school work right now, or I could be outside. It’s a nice day. Please, just let me out, like the others.
Anything felt better than being here, bored and idle. He had asked his father once about taking a book or a notepad with him, but he had not asked again since.
Groaning, he let his hand wander. One finger reached to twirl at his bangs.
He thought of the elderly woman in her dusty blue coat. She would be back, in a fortnight’s time, as she usually came, with her long tangled hair and the usual penchant for anise and cinnamon.
Maybe I’ll add ginger to it next time, if she wants it. Dad doesn’t need to know that I won’t charge her for that. I hope he won’t notice.
I hope he won’t ask.
His father had called it ‘unprofessional’, but Shou couldn’t help but think otherwise. The scents of tea blends allured him in strange ways, stronger than the boredom most of the time. Each herb, each spice, each small thing - each one had its own smell, and its own purpose. Part of the job - the most important part, his father had said - was knowing each one. Each blend the shop sold was different, under its own name, and each had its own qualities; ones he had to remember.
When his mind would wander, the scents guided him back. For as long as he could remember, he had always had a good nose for scents.
Like your father, his mother had said to him once with a smile. His father had looked on, his brows hard like stone. Ryou had never said anything.
His mother was barely there most days, and nobody was there now. He had been left to the tea shop alone. His father was most likely upstairs, at home. Shou was not certain. His father was quiet, and leaving his post was not an option.
Like a ghost, he dreaded the thought of his father emerging behind him. Do your job. Stop thinking about it. Sort the tea out. Sort it again. Check the drawers. Not sorted enough. Get a move on, go on, go…
Ceaselessly, the thought of finishing early continued to peck, like a little bird, at his mind.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. Maybe I should ask if I can shut it a little bit earlier. Father won’t mind if it’s ten minutes, will he? He never minded with Ryou -
It was then that the bells rang, jerking Shou out of his state. Springing up, he cursed under his breath. His heart raced for a moment as he recomposed himself from the sudden shock.
Quickly, he straightened his apron and gave a quaint bow in the direction of the door and the bell. “Welcome - “
“Ah, hey, it’s all right, you can sit back down."
Shou froze for a second. Confused, he tried to get his breath back, at the same time looking up to take a look at the visitor.
Tourist? Might be.
The visitor was a boy, around his age, with curious eyes that scanned frantically around the shop. First to one corner, then to the other; his head turned, mouth slightly open with awe. One hand tugged at the bag on his shoulder.
“Hey, can I put this down? It’s kinda heavy. Shopping.”
“Yes. Yes, you can.” By then, Shou was already back in work mode. Come on. Get yourself togehter. Be polite, serve the customer; if he asks for something, explain it to him, don’t let him see that you’re on the verge of dropping dead like a fly.
His father had said that to him once. The phrase had stuck in his head.
The boy shrugged, and his bag hit the floor. Letting it topple over - to Shou’s relief, it was shut - he walked over to one side, eyes scanning up to read a label on the wall of drawers.
“Herbal blends… for, what’s that? In…somnia?”
There was something odd about his accent, Shou thought; what it was, he had no idea. Tourist, he decided. Not sure where from, but some kind of tourist. Which part?
He was far from certain; the boy didn’t look Western like the couple from earlier, but his accent wasn’t familiar, not Chinese or Korean. Tourists had a knack for finding odd spots like Amaruya, Shou knew from experience.
This tourist was strange, he thought. Still, he was on duty. He had to serve him.
“…Yes. Chamomile tea tends to be a popular one, though you might want to add something else to it, if you like a bit of flavour.” Shou tried speaking slower, still uncertain. “A small amount of honey, if possible, not sugar - “
The boy interrupted. “Wait, hold on, you guys sell tea here?”
Shou paused. Had he not read the sign? Could he not read Japanese, even if he was speaking it as well as a native?
He sighed, trying to focus again. “Yes. We specialise in tea blends, old and new, traditional and modern. We have green tea, or black as well, also some white…”
“Ah, right. I didn’t read the sign. I just saw the name written outside, it didn’t say what it was.”
“There’s a chalkboard outside.” Shou said, fighting the urge to keep on being polite. His fatigue from the morning was starting to ebb back. He wished he was alone again, alone enough to dream and do nothing; it was better than pointing out an obvious sign to a high schooler without the audacity to even read it before coming in.
“Oh, right, about that…” The boy smiled sheepishly, one hand reaching to rub at the back of his head. Fingers sank into a mess of brown hair. “Sorry, I think I knocked that thing over.”
Quietly, Shou gritted his teeth. Realising his situation, he quickly looked up again, hoping his customer had not seen his frustration.
“It’s all right,” he lied through a smile. “We’ll put it back up again.”
“That’s good! Glad I didn’t break it - well, I kinda hope I didn’t.”
Shou hoped that he had not broken it either. Having the chalkboard broken because of a dumb high schooler was not something he wanted to tell his father about. He straightened up and readjusted his glasses, hoping he could still net the shop a customer before shutting it down for the day. Hands quickly fumbled to dust off his apron, just in case.
“That’s fine. Were you looking for something? If you’re here for a visit, we do have some souvenir blends. Amaruya’s house teas are unique.”
The boy brought a finger to his chin, pausing to think. His gaze drifted around the shop and its drawers again. “Um, no.” He turned around, before jerking right back again. “…Wait, do you guys sell coffee?”
Shou shook his head. “No.”
Amaruya had been a tea shop from the beginning, so said one framed certificate. He had had it drilled into him; to remember and recall whatever was sold, whatever could work for an ailment, or to suit a customer’s tastes, and he’d read those certificates and banners over and over again: only the finest blends, unique ones and classics to suit all tastes, traditional and modern…
“Ah, right. Dammit. Thought I could at least grab a drink.”
“We do make small samples, if you’d like to try it - “
“Nah, it’s OK. I don’t even like tea. Can’t stomach it.”
It was then that Shou had to fight harder than ever to stop himself losing his sanity. His time had been wasted. He could have found an excuse to drift off and catch up on sleep, or done some work, or at least spend time daydreaming if his father didn’t see him, being alone and doing near nothing - and here it all was. He was spending time dealing with someone who didn’t care, all for nothing.
First, he had come in and knocked down the board outside, having not read the sign. This, now, was an insult.
Damn you, why did you even come here?
“But hey, it’s nice to see what’s around. Looks like we’re not gonna have any competition, right?”
“…Sorry, what do you mean?”
“Ah, right! Forgot to introduce myself…” The boy chuckled, biting his lip sheepishly with his laugh. Whether he was playing dumb or not, Shou could not tell; either way, it was an aggravation. As the moments went by, the clock ticking on, he felt himself becoming more and more certain that he was staring into the face of an idiot.
Finally, the boy straightened up. “I’m Judai. My family’s moved to here from America, and we’re opening a coffee shop.”
Shou paused. There was silence for a few moments, with nothing but the faint, mundane sounds from outside between himself and the boy who had come in - Judai, Shou reminded himself, that’s his name, Judai. Judai just came here and he’s not from around here.
American, but he doesn’t look it…
It explained the strange accent, but nothing else. Shou had never heard of the name before. Even if it didn’t sound American, it was still unfamiliar.
Japanese, then? Or American? He said something about a coffee shop, too; he’s not from around here… what’s going on? Who is he?
Some part of him refused to process the new information. “A… coffee shop?”
“Yeah!” Judai smiled, enthusiasm twinkling in both eyes. “We’re opening a coffee place, and we’re going to bake. Kinda like this one place we had in Los Angeles. Like, there was this place where they made the most amazing chocolate cake, but Mom said we’re gonna beat them. Mom’s insane when it comes to her baking, you know that?”
No, I don’t know that. I just met you and already you’re telling me you’re here to mess with our family’s business.
“She just thought we might as well bring a little bit of Los Angeles here. It’s like… like you have no idea. Like, we might be more cake and less coffee, but seriously, you have to try our cake when we open the place…”
For a few seconds, Shou didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. His mind wandered, and he struggled to reel it back in. A coffee shop. Here.
He felt his throat growing drier and drier with each syllable, until he knew he could say nothing back. The longer he stood there, idly so, with the strange tourist - not tourist - boy smiling at him, the stranger he felt, as if he was out of place. Even the smile staring back at him was beginning to unnerve him a little.
Here we have tea. There are enough coffee shops in Ueno nearby. Amaruya, no, Yanaka itself, is different. We are traditional; we get tourists and regulars, and the last thing we need is another Western cafe. We have enough chains. We don’t have enough tea.
Dad isn’t going to like this.
He swallowed. The thought of dinner that evening filled him with fear.
“…There’s a Starbucks in Ueno,” he mumbled. “Probably more than one. Starbucks has coffee.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Judai shrugged, his expression unchanging. “We had a ton of Starbucks in LA. Doesn’t mean they’re better than us. Nobody bakes like my mom. And man, she is a boss when it comes to her coffee. She quit her job for it back in America, and that’s saying something. Pretty cool, right?”
“This is Tokyo. There’s competition everywhere.”
“So what? Competition’s everywhere," Judai winked, snapping his fingers. It caught Shou off guard and he jumped, startled. Judai only smirked in response. "And besides, we’ve got what nobody else has.”
"What do you have?”
Judai stopped for a second, shoulders slumping and gaze moving up in comical thought. “Um, I don’t know. My mom. That’s already something. Our cake’s amazing, I swear.”
“But everyone has cake now.”
“Not the kind we do. I don’t think anyone does things like her. I mean, it’s my mom.” Almost absent-mindedly, Judai turned around, leaving Shou behind and pacing to the other side of the shop, glancing around at what he had not yet seen. He stopped by the other wall, reaching out to open a drawer and pulling out a small pouch.
Green tea, gingko and what else - “Hey, put that - sorry, excuse me, do you need help?”
Judai turned around again, the small packet still in his hands. The label wasn’t quite visible. He turned it around, one finger tracing over the sticker branding the shop’s name. “Amaruya,” he read, “Gingko with rose and… what’s that?”
“Sencha,” Shou suddenly remembered. “Sencha tea with gingko and rose.”
“What’s that even for?”
It says on the drawer. “It works well for memory.”
“Ah, right.” Judai sighed, putting the bag back and shutting the draw a little too quickly for Shou not to wince. “Had no idea. Does that even help?”
“It’s traditional use. Most people just drink it because of the taste.”
“Hey, what about this one?” Before Shou could object, Judai had already picked out another packet. “What does chrysanthemum do?”
“That’s good for fevers and sore throats.”
“Eh. Good thing I don’t get those much. I’d never drink that.”
Shou felt one hand curl into a fist by his side. Slowly but surely, Judai was doing a good job of annoying him. He thought of saying something, but shook his head at the thought.
Customer, customer, do what Dad said, offer him something at least, but don’t just get angry at him…
“We do offer samples, if you’d like to taste.” He struggled to smile. It felt like a lie through his teeth.
Judai just gestured with one hand, and walked back towards him again, completely careless. “No. I really don’t do the tea thing. Shame you guys don’t have coffee, then I’d reconsider.”
“We… don’t have any, I’m afraid.”
There was an awkward silence. Shou didn’t know what to say next. Would forcing tea down his throat teach him some sense? He was still on edge from how careless he seemed, and how… strange, yes, strange, he just seemed to be. He was stranger than any other tourist - or not - that he had seen or met. Never had someone just walked in and almost insulted Amaruya, not in the months that Shou had been working properly there. Not even when he had been nothing more than the second son of his father, he had never heard anyone act quite like him.
There was nothing to say, lest he let his thoughts loose and scare him away. He couldn’t, Shou knew. It wasn’t the right way. His father would scold him. His conscience agreed.
Softly, steadily as a pulse, the clocked ticked on in the corridor. He could see Judai beginning to fret.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I wasn’t meant to be here for that long. Mom’s probably waiting for me.”
Footsteps thudded down on the floor, echoing as Judai almost ran over, crossing the floor in a couple of paces until he reached for his bag. Shou had forgotten about it, but it was still there, laying unceremoniously on the ground, contents on the verge of falling out.
“Right, well, it was nice to meet you - oh, hey, what’s your name? We’re literally going to be round the corner, and that makes us sort-of neighbours. Might as well know, right? We should be friends,” Judai chimed, gathering his bag.
To Shou’s relief, it had not been forgotten. He did not need other people’s belongings littering the place.
He didn’t want to tell him his name, not really. Judai had come in as a customer, and now wanted to ask him his name, like a friend.
‘Friend’ wasn’t the right term.
Something about him, Shou pondered, was a little bit strange. He was odd, slightly foreign in more ways than one. He wasn’t familiar. He had insulted his family’s business. He had come to a tea shop and said nothing positive about tea.
Coffee elitist.
“Marufuji Shou.”
He didn’t know how the words had slipped out, but they had.
The other boy looked back, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Yuki Judai, then. Look out for us! Or I might be round. You have to try the chocolate cake, all right?”
Whatever it meant, Shou was not yet sure. The spark in his - Judai’s, that’s his name - eyes was clear. His smile was confident, bright as sunshine, and as much as it hurt to admit, most likely just as naive, hoping for something that would most likely never take off the ground.
Something within Shou stirred for a second. Something, just for a moment, seemed a little lighter.
As soon as Judai had turned around again, it was gone.
Wide-eyed, he could do nothing but stare. Judai waved, and as swiftly and suddenly as he had come in to the place, the bells chimed out loud, and he was out there, on the run, footsteps echoing through the pavement.
Gradually, the bells stopped ringing. Shou felt his senses came back. He became painfully aware of everyday noise from outside again as his conscience returned, the pressure of company fading out. In the back of the shop, the clock ticked on and on, ceaselessly beating a rhythm.
The meeting was finished. The flurry was over. For the first time in minutes - or however long it had been, he was not sure - he felt again the fatigue in his eyes.
He was alone again, sighing and tired out far more than he thought he would be. Behind him, the clock was ticking on, but he wasn’t interested in the time any more.
Idle and confused still from the strange encounter, he stood and thought of the coffee shop he had heard of. Like a ghost, the smells of tea were washed out as he imagined the sweet, guiltily pleasant smell, and taste, of chocolate cake.
It felt wonderful to dream, he admitted - but what it meant was far from fortunate, far from happy.
They’ll open their place soon. Dad won’t approve of this.
He was far from a believer of fate. He did not believe, and never would quite believe in the concept, but just for those moments, until his father came down and told him it was ten minutes past closing time, he spent them wondering if fate was indeed real, and if it was, how badly it had screwed both him and the family business over, just by bringing Yuki Judai and his family from Los Angeles to Yanaka.
If fate was a human, then it would have been laughing.