Chapter One: Assistance

slumped over my desk, exhaustion weighing me down. Coffee is a profound thing—brewing the perfect cup demands relentless practice, day after day. After finishing my part-time job and returning home, I often stay up late into the night, honing my drip brewing technique. It takes refined skill to coax out the ideal flavor, but the downside is the sleep deprivation that comes with it. Stifling a yawn, I let my eyes flutter shut. Just to be clear,   closing them because I’m tired—I’m definitely not trying to dodge the “loner” label.

“Shizuku! Is it true you’re co-starring with Inamori Reiko in the upcoming drama!?”

A high-pitched voice jolted me back from the edge of sleep, yanking me into the chaos of the classroom. The name “Inamori Reiko” sent everyone into a frenzy.

“Inamori Reiko… that Inamori Reiko!?”

“Who else would it be, idiot!”

Ignoring the guys’ ridiculous exchange, I glanced at Kamisaka, who looked a little troubled, her expression tinged with unease. Inamori Reiko was no ordinary name—she’s a wildly popular actress, thriving in dramas and movies alike. Last year, she was crowned both the number-one actress people want to date and the number-one actress people admire, her charisma captivating audiences of all ages and genders. In the entertainment world, she’s a towering figure, her fame unmatched.

“This is a mess… where did that rumor even come from?” Kamisaka muttered.

“She said it herself on Onsta! Mentioned meeting ‘SHIZUKU’ at the drama audition!”

“Ugh… her agency’s okay with her saying stuff like that?”

Kamisaka let out a wry laugh, giving a resigned nod. “I can’t give details, but I’m auditioning for the same drama as Inamori Reiko. I don’t know if I’ll get the role, though, so don’t jump to conclusions, okay?”

“Whoa! That’s amazing, Shizuku! Seriously amazing! I’m definitely not missing it when it airs!”

“…Thanks,” she replied softly.”

As usual, Kamisaka was swarmed by a crowd, everyone buzzing about “SHIZUKU.” But no one seemed to notice the strained smile she wore, a faint crack in her composed facade. I let out a quiet sigh and rose from my seat.

“Kamisaka,” I called out.

“Huh…?”

The moment her name left my lips, the room fell silent, the air growing heavy with awkwardness. I’d half-expected it, but the intensity of the silence sent a trickle of cold sweat down my back. No turning back now.

“T-The teacher was calling for you,” I stammered, grasping for something plausible. “Something about a suspicious person bothering you at yesterday’s shoot… or something like that.”

It was a flimsy excuse, pieced together from what Kamisaka had mentioned yesterday. Homeroom was about to start—there’s no way a teacher would call her out now. The lie was full of holes, but it was the best lifeline I could throw her.

“G-Got it! I’ll go check!” Kamisaka said, seizing the opportunity and hurrying out of the classroom. As she passed, she shot me a subtle wink, a silent acknowledgment that she’d caught on to my makeshift rescue.

“Phew…”

Sixth period finally ended,  . I mentally patted myself on the back for surviving classes without dozing off and started packing up to leave. As always, I had my part-time job  a word to anyone, I slipped out of the classroom.

Kamisaka, meanwhile, was still surrounded by classmates, even after school. I glanced her way, and though she didn’t seem as overwhelmed as she had that morning, her subtle headshake told me she was still trapped in the crowd’s enthusiasm. I felt a pang of sympathy—she didn’t seem to have a moment to catch her breath.

“Hey, Mikage.”

A voice stopped me as I walked down the hallway. Turning, I saw Mamiya Akira-sensei, looking as tired as ever, her dark circles stark against her pale face.

“Mamiya-sensei,” I greeted.

“No, it’s Akira-chan,” she corrected.

“…”

Mamiya-sensei taught modern literature, but her lab coat and those prominent dark circles were her real trademarks. For some reason, she insisted students call her “Akira-chan,” despite being twenty-seven. Apparently, that quirk rubbed some people the wrong way.

“…Calling a teacher ‘-chan’ feels really weird,” I muttered.

“Shut it. Call me that, or I’ll kill you.”

“What a terrifying teacher…”

You’d think a teacher wouldn’t talk like that to a student, but somehow, Mamiya-sensei was still wildly popular. She was genuinely supportive when you confided in her, and her lessons were clear and engaging, earning her the adoration of most students.  a sign of how much she cared about her students. And, if you looked past the dark circles, her well-defined features apparently added to her charm.

“You’re in the same class as Kamisaka, right?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then can you pass this to her?”

She handed me a worksheet from the last class.

“She was absent last time for some modeling gig, wasn’t she?” Mamiya-sensei muttered, holding out a worksheet. “I forgot to give her this.”

“Got it. I’ll pass it along,” I replied, taking the paper.

“Thanks.” She paused, then added, “Oh, and tell her not to overwork herself and ruin her health.”

What a tsundere teacher. She could easily hand Kamisaka the worksheet in the next class, but here she was, going out of her way to pass along a message indirectly.

“You’re kind, Mamiya-sensei,” I said softly.

“It’s Akira-chan.” She waved a hand dismissively, already turning to leave. “I’m counting on you.”

Kamisaka might still be at school. I turned on my heel and headed back to the classroom, but when I got there, it was empty.

I should’ve exchanged contact info with her. A slight pang of regret hit me, but there was always tomorrow. Tucking the worksheet carefully into my bag, I left the classroom.

“Hey, I’m back again,” Kamisaka announced that night, stepping into the café.

“You came back so soon?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I was craving the coffee here.”

Her words brought a grin to my face. When someone praised the coffee here, it felt like they were praising me too. “Oh… my bad, let me show you to a seat. This way, please.”

“Thanks,” she said, following me.

It was just before 8 p.m., and the café was quiet, no other customers in sight. This time of night was always calm—never bustling to begin with, but as closing time neared, the place emptied out since no one lingered too long. In the serene atmosphere, I led Kamisaka to a table in the far corner.

“Have you decided on your order?” I asked.

She laughed softly. “Pfft… getting spoken to so formally by a classmate feels kinda funny.”

“…Can’t help it,” I said, shrugging.

“Sorry, sorry. Can I get the same hot coffee as yesterday?”

“Certainly.” I headed back to the counter and relayed the order to Utahara-san.

“Got it. Same as yesterday, right?” she confirmed.

“Yes, please.”

Utahara-san glanced toward Kamisaka’s table, where she was fidgeting, sneaking looks our way. “…Since it’s quiet, why don’t you show Shizuku-chan how we brew the coffee? She seems interested.”

Our eyes met briefly, and Kamisaka hurriedly hid her face behind the menu. Utahara-san was right—she did seem curious.

“Hehe. There’s no other customers, so go invite her over,” she urged.

“…Alright.” I walked back to Kamisaka’s table. “If you’re interested in how we brew coffee, the master says you can come watch up close.”

“Really? Is that okay?” Her eyes lit up.

“The master’s fine with it, and there’s no one else here, so it’s all good.”

“Awesome! I tried brewing drip coffee myself yesterday, but compared to what I drank here, it wasn’t nearly as good…”

“Haha, I did the same thing when I started,” I admitted, leading her to the counter where Utahara-san had everything ready.

“Thanks for coming back today. You’re Kamisaka Shizuku-chan, right?” Utahara-san said warmly.

“Yes. The coffee here was so delicious, I couldn’t help but come back,” Kamisaka replied.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you! I’m Utahara Yumi, the owner of this place. Jun-kun’s always a big help here.” Utahara-san gave a small bow, and Kamisaka mirrored her.

“I hope inviting you to watch wasn’t a bother?” Utahara-san asked.

“Not at all! I’ve never tasted coffee that good before, so I’ve been dying to know more since yesterday…”

“Hehe, well then, let’s show you how it’s done~” Thrilled by the compliment, Utahara-san began pouring beans into the coffee mill.

Just to clarify, a coffee mill is a tool for grinding coffee beans into powder. “Shizuku-chan, you seem to like beans with a stronger bitterness,” Utahara-san noted. “Yesterday, we used deep-roasted Mandheling. It’s got a soft bitterness, low acidity, and a rich body.”

“Deep-roasted… Mandheling?” Kamisaka tilted her head, puzzled.

I chimed in to explain. “Deep-roasted means the beans are roasted for a longer time.” Roasting—heating and drying coffee beans—changes their flavor, a process called “roasting” in the coffee world. There are three main stages: light, medium, and dark. Dark roasts bring out stronger bitterness and a more aromatic flavor, while light roasts lean acidic and fruity. The roast level depends on the bean itself—there’s no “good” or “bad,” just compatibility.

“Mandheling is a type of coffee bean,” I added. “Different beans have different characteristics.”

“Wow…! That’s so cool!” Kamisaka’s eyes sparkled with excitement. If she was this interested, she had the potential to become a real coffee enthusiast.

remarked.

“That’s no coincidence,” Utahara-san replied with a grin.

“Huh?” Kamisaka tilted her head, curious.

“The master can tell what kind of coffee someone will like just by looking at them,” I explained, glancing at Utahara-san, who puffed out her chest with pride.

Honestly, I hadn’t believed it at first either. But after watching her nail the preferences of new customers time and again, I was convinced. How she did it, though, remained a complete mystery.

“It’s mostly intuition,” Utahara-san chimed in, her voice brimming with confidence. “Ever since I took over this place, I’ve never once gotten a customer’s taste wrong.”

“That’s incredible…! It’s like a superpower!” Kamisaka’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

“Keep the compliments coming~!” Utahara-san wiggled with joy, clearly basking in the praise. I cleared my throat, and she snapped out of it, quickly composing herself. “Ahem… okay, next is grinding the beans.”

She began turning the handle of the coffee mill with practiced ease. “This is how we grind the beans into powder. The coarseness of the grind affects the flavor too.”

“Really…?” Kamisaka leaned forward, intrigued.

“If you like stronger bitterness, it’s better to grind them as fine as possible—about the size of granulated sugar,” Utahara-san explained, pointing to the sugar container on the counter. “That way, you avoid any harsh bitterness and get a clean, smooth flavor.”

Once the beans were ground, she set up a scale with a timer function, placing a server and dripper on top. She fitted a paper filter into the dripper, added the ground coffee, and leveled the surface with care. The setup was ready for brewing.

“First, we pour a set amount of hot water to let the coffee bloom. For one cup, that’s thirty grams to start. Once you start pouring, the scale’s timer kicks in, and you wait until it hits forty seconds,” Utahara-san said, pouring water evenly over the grounds. The scale displayed thirty grams as the timer began counting.

The moment it hit forty seconds, she resumed pouring. “When the time’s up, you pour the same amount of water again. Then repeat until you hit a hundred and fifty grams.”

“Wow…!” Kamisaka watched, mesmerized, as the coffee collected in the server, her eyes gleaming with fascination.

“After the final pour, you wait until three minutes. Ideally, the water finishes dripping right at three minutes.” Utahara-san removed the dripper from the server at exactly three minutes, not a drop more falling from it. “There, done.”

“Why three minutes?” Kamisaka asked, tilting her head again.

“If it takes longer, you get unwanted bitterness or off-flavors. If it finishes too early, the coffee ends up weak.”

“I see…!” Kamisaka nodded, clearly impressed.

What always amazed me about Utahara-san was her precision. No matter the beans, she always finished the extraction at exactly three minutes. The speed varied depending on the bean type, roast level, and grind size, but she nailed it every time. When I tried, it often finished too early or dragged on too long—

“Here you go, Shizuku-chan,” Utahara-san said, handing the freshly brewed coffee to Kamisaka.

“Thank you…!” Kamisaka took the cup, bringing it to her lips with care. Her face lit up with surprise as she glanced back and forth between Utahara-san and me. “It’s exactly like the one I had yesterday! It’s delicious!”

“Glad you like it. Now, take your time and enjoy it at the table,” Utahara-san said warmly.

“Yes, thank you so much!” Kamisaka beamed.

“Jun-kun, you’re free right now, so go sit and chat with her,” Utahara-san added with a nudge.

I nodded, happy to take her up on the offer. As we settled at a table, Kamisaka spoke up. “The drip coffee I brewed was totally different. Coffee’s so deep, isn’t it?”

“I’m glad you’re getting interested,” I replied, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, it was really fascinating!” Her enthusiasm was infectious.

I’ve always loved coffee, but I never wanted to push it on others. Seeing Kamisaka genuinely curious about it warmed my heart.

“Mikage-kun, what got you so into coffee?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Hmm… it’s kind of a long story, so it’s hard to explain,” I said, scratching the back of my neck.

“Tell me! I don’t mind if it takes a while.”

“…Alright, then.” I took a moment to organize my thoughts before starting. “When I was little, my dad used to make instant coffee for me a lot. At first, it was too bitter, so I’d load it up with milk and sugar to make it drinkable.”

Back then, my dad was a struggling painter, scraping by as an art instructor. “Even so, I loved drinking the coffee he made. It felt like a special moment, you know?”

“Hehe, that’s sweet. Family memories are like treasures, aren’t they?” Kamisaka said, her voice soft.

“Yeah, I guess so… That’s probably what got me hooked on coffee.” I paused, memories flickering through my mind. My mom worked part-time, and we weren’t well-off, but we were a pretty ordinary family.

“Things started changing when I was in my second year of middle school,” I continued. “Dad’s paintings suddenly started selling. Some rich guy overseas took a liking to them, apparently. Our family got wealthy overnight, but because of that, Dad’s passion for painting exploded. He started saying stuff like, ‘I want to paint landscapes from all over the world!’ and began leaving the house more often.”

“That’s an intense dad you’ve got…” Kamisaka said, her eyes wide.

“He’s a handful, that’s for sure.” I chuckled. “It’s not like I was lonely or anything without my parents around—I’m not that age anymore—but I did kinda miss that overly sweet instant coffee he used to make.”

One day, I’d come to Jinbocho to sell some unneeded books from my dad’s room. That’s when I happened to pass by

The aroma of coffee hit me like a wave of nostalgia, pulling me back to memories of Dad’s brew, and before I realized it, I’d stepped inside. The Master crafted a cup tailored perfectly to my taste… and, well, I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

“Why’s that?”  asked, her tone curious.

I chuckled softly. “Because it hit me just how awful Dad’s coffee really was.”

“Pfft—hahaha!”  voice filling the air with warmth.

“Dad’s was instant coffee, so of course it was different… but it got me thinking. Next time, I want to brew him a really good cup of coffee.”

“That’s how you got hooked on coffee, huh?”

“…Yeah, sorry. That was a weird story. I’ve never been great at conversation,” I admitted, feeling a flush of self-consciousness.

“Really? I thought it was interesting,”  replied, her sincerity catching me off guard.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped me. I’ve always been painfully aware of how clumsy I am at talking. Unless I break things down step by step, I lose the thread of what I’m trying to say.

“Oh, I forgot to mention earlier, but… thanks for this morning. You were looking out for me, right?”

Juntaro tilted his head slightly. “Well, you seemed pretty worn out. Hope I wasn’t being nosy?”

“Not at all. You really helped me out.”

Looking just as drained as she had yesterday, Kamisaka let out a slow breath and leaned back in her chair. “Man… getting surrounded by that kind of energy first thing in the morning is a bit much.”

“Yeah… it’s like the vibe is on a whole different level,” I agreed, nodding.

“Exactly, that’s it, Mikage-kun. You totally get it,” she said, pointing at me with a spark of enthusiasm, as if I’d nailed some unspoken truth.

She must be carrying a lot on her shoulders. There was a wistful melancholy woven into her words, a weight she couldn’t quite shake. “It’s like… the way they expect so much from me? It’s kinda tough. I haven’t even been confirmed for that drama yet.”

Even if she told them to temper their hopes, they’d probably just think she was being humble and brush it off. If she failed the audition, their disappointment would hit hard. Getting swept up in others’ excitement only to let them down—she must be exhausted by it.

“I’m happy they’re rooting for me, but my main job is modeling. Dramas, movies, and lately even singing? The agency wants me to do it all, but honestly, I don’t think I’m cut out for any of it.”

“That’s how it is, huh…” I murmured, sensing the depth of her frustration.

“Sorry… I ended up venting a lot,” Kamisaka said, covering her face with her hands, her voice tinged with apology. She must have been holding in a mountain of frustration. Spilling her heart at our shop yesterday clearly hadn’t been enough.

“I really misjudged you, Kamisaka,” I said, my words coming out more bluntly than I intended.

“Misjudged?” she echoed, her brow furrowing.

“You always seemed so cool and composed, like you had it all figured out. But you’re struggling too, aren’t you?

Her eyes widened in surprise, and slowly, tears began to glisten in their corners.

“Wha—!? Sorry, did I say something bad?” I stammered, panicking.

“No, no! It’s not that,” she said quickly, wiping her tears away. “Sorry for showing you something weird.” Her expression wasn’t one of pain—somehow, it looked like happiness. “It’s just… this is the first time someone’s really listened to me like this. I got a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. I’m actually happy.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good then. If I were you, I probably would’ve run away by now—”

“Shizuku,” she interrupted softly.

“Huh?”

My heart skipped a beat as her teary eyes locked onto mine. Gone was her usual cool, confident air, replaced by an upward glance so adorably vulnerable it was almost unfair. If there’s a guy who could resist that, I’d love to meet him.

“…Alright, then… Shizuku it is,” I said, my voice catching slightly.

“Yup, it’s a promise, okay?” Shizuku smiled, her expression innocent and bright.

It felt a bit ticklish, but I figured I’d get used to it. “…But if things are that tough, why’d you decide to become a model?”

“Oh, now you’re testing my conversation skills, huh?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“No, I mean… well, sure, let’s go with that,” I said, playing along.

“Alright, then I’ll give you an answer!” With a smug grin, Shizuku puffed out her chest. I caught myself averting my gaze slightly. When someone as stunning as her struck a pose like that, it was hard to know where to look—she really ought to be more careful. Not that I could ever say that out loud.

“To be honest, I didn’t really want to be a model,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I got scouted on the street by an agency, and my parents were all, ‘We’ll support you!’ So I just… kinda started. I don’t really have a goal or anything.”

“…I see.”

“I think that’s why criticism hits me so hard—because I don’t have any real conviction. It’s like I’m just floating along. I feel bad for the people who are serious about it. I keep thinking I should quit for good, but that’d just cause trouble for everyone around me…”

Pushing through without a clear goal must be draining for anyone—it’s no wonder her heart was struggling to keep up. Still, Shizuku was giving it her all, and I genuinely admired her for that.

“But recently,” she added, her voice softening, “I found one goal.”

“What’s that?” I asked, puzzled.

“Coming to this café,” Shizuku replied simply.

“…?” I tilted my head, unable to see the connection. Her modeling job and visiting this café—how did those fit together?

“On days when I’m worn out from work, I make it a point to stop by here and have a coffee before heading home,” she explained, her tone bright with resolve.

“That’s flattering, but… isn’t it tough to come here when you’re already exhausted?” I couldn’t help but wonder, my brow furrowing slightly.

Shizuku shook her head, a warm smile spreading across her face. “It’s the opposite. Drinking coffee here and talking with you, Juntaro—it recharges me.”

“…Really?” Her straightforwardness caught me off guard, and a faint flush crept up my cheeks.

“Yup,” she said with a nod, unfazed by my shyness.

“I mean, you’re working right now, so I probably shouldn’t keep you tied up like this. Sorry, sorry,” Shizuku added, taking a sip of her coffee, her expression tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

“I don’t mind,” I reassured her, though I glanced toward the counter. “But I wonder what the owner would say…”

Talking with Shizuku was always enjoyable. Even though I wasn’t great at holding conversations, she had a way of making me feel at ease, accepting my fumbling words with warmth. We hadn’t spoken much yet, but these moments already felt precious.

Utahara-san’s voice chimed in as she appeared out of nowhere, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. “When Shizuku-chan’s here, I’ll just lend you to her, Jun-kun.”

I blinked at the cup, realizing she’d brewed one for me too.

“On days like today, it’s no problem at all,” Utahara-san continued breezily. “I chat with customers all the time, you know.”

True, Utahara-san was always chatting with patrons, but she never slacked off on her work the way I was doing now.

“Plus, I’m happy seeing you talk with a friend, Jun-kun,” she added, her tone softening. “You never tell me anything about school, so I was a bit worried. You’re so reserved, I was starting to think, ‘What if he’s being bullied?’”

“I’m not being bullied, I swear,” I said quickly, feeling my face heat up at her concern.

“Oh? That’s a relief then!” Utahara-san beamed, undeterred by my flustered expression. “You’re like a little brother to me, Jun-kun, so I can’t help but worry. So, Shizuku-chan, feel free to come here and talk with Jun-kun as much as you want. But can I ask one thing in return?”

“If it’s something I can do, anything,” Shizuku replied without hesitation.

“Could you help Jun-kun practice fixing his awkwardness with talking? This isn’t from the shop owner, but from the big sister who cares about him.”

Shizuku nodded once, her eyes bright with agreement. “You’re really loved, huh, Juntaro?” she murmured with a gentle smile as Utahara-san returned to the counter.

“…I’m grateful for it,” I admitted, my voice soft. Utahara-san was so laid-back, so hard to pin down—I had no idea she thought of me as a little brother or cared this much.

“Now that we’ve got permission, we can keep talking here, right?” Shizuku asked, her tone teasing.

“…Yeah, sounds like it,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Wait, are you not happy about that?” she said, catching the hesitation in my voice.

“No, I’m happy to talk with you, Shizuku,” I assured her. “I’m just worried I might bore you until I fix my awkwardness…”

Shizuku’s eyes widened for a moment, then softened into a warm smile. “It’s fine. Talking with you, Juntaro, gives me energy.”

“Really…?” I asked, still unsure.

“Yup. You praise me a lot, you know,” she said matter-of-factly.

I blinked, confused. Was I praising her? I couldn’t recall doing anything like that.

“And I don’t think you’re bad at talking,” she continued. “If anything, your slower pace helps me. Everyone around me—especially the big shots at the agency—talks so fast, like bam bam bam. I can barely get a word in.”

“Maybe they’re just in a rush?” I offered, trying to make sense of it.

“Probably. They even walk fast, like they’re always in a hurry,” Shizuku said, giggling as she thought of someone at her agency.

Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling too. She’d said she didn’t choose to be a model, but Shizuku had a natural talent for drawing people in, her warmth pulling you into her orbit.

“…Oh, by the way, this place has food and desserts too, right?” Shizuku said, picking up the menu from the table.

“Any recommendations? I wanna try something next time I come.”

“  the Neapolitan and the nut cookies are my picks,” I said, thinking of the shop’s best offerings.

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly.

“Because they’re my specialties,” I said, a hint of pride in my voice.

“What!?” Shizuku’s eyes widened, sparkling with excitement. “You make them, Juntaro!? That’s awesome!”

I chuckled, scratching the back of my neck. I’m usually the one handling the food and desserts here at the café. The Neapolitan and nut cookies, in particular, have become crowd favorites, especially with the evening customers.

“Utahara-san’s a wizard at brewing coffee,” I added, “but cooking’s not exactly her forte.”

Before I started working here, the menu was pretty much coffee and nothing else. Apparently, Utahara-san’s still a bit sore about that.

“Then I’ll definitely try them next time,” Shizuku declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

“They’re pretty popular, so you’ve got something to look forward to.”

As we chatted, Shizuku’s phone chimed on the table, pulling our attention. A notification from a messaging app flashed on the screen, but what caught my eye was the time.

“Oh, it’s from my manager…” Shizuku paused, her brow furrowing. “Wait, it’s already this late!?”

I glanced at the clock—8:55 PM. Closing time. Somehow, the hours had slipped by faster than usual.

“Time flew by,” Shizuku muttered, almost to herself. “I’m not nearly done talking.”

“Isn’t that perfect, though?” I teased. “Gives you something to look forward to next time.”

She grinned, conceding the point. “True, you’ve got a point.”

As Shizuku started gathering her things to leave, I remembered the task  had entrusted me with. I reached into my bag, pulling out a stack of modern Japanese handouts.

“Shizuku, here,” I said, holding them out.

“Thanks.” She took them, flipping through the pages. “Are these from last class?”

“Yeah, Mamiya-sensei asked me to pass them to you. Oh, and there’s a message too.”

“A message?”

“Don’t overwork yourself and get sick.”

Shizuku let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she looked at the handouts. “Haha, she’s kinder than she looks, huh, Akira-chan?”

“Overworking, huh…” she murmured, almost to herself. “I gotta be careful.”

“You’re still gonna be busy for a while?” I asked, sensing the weight behind her words.

“Ugh… yeah.” Shizuku scratched her cheek, her expression a mix of pride and strain. “Actually, I passed the drama audition. That message from my manager just now was about that.”

It was supposed to be good news, but her face told a different story—something heavier lingered there.

“Like I said earlier, I’m not really into dramas or movies,” she admitted. “But since I passed, I’ve gotta give it my all.”

“Sounds tough,” I said, feeling the pressure just hearing about it. “I can tell it’s a lot.”

“Haha, if I said that to someone in the industry, they’d think I’m being sarcastic.”

I nodded, understanding. For some, landing a drama role was a dream come true. If word got out that Shizuku wasn’t thrilled, she’d likely catch some heat.

“Well, if I’m doing it, I’m going all in!” she declared, her voice firm with resolve. “That’s what I decided.”

“Got it… But don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Thanks.” Her smile softened, and she gave me a playful nudge. “If I pull it off, will you praise me again?”

“Of course,” I replied, grinning back. “I’ll hype you up as much as you want.”

“Great. Then I’ll work even harder.” Shizuku poked my shoulder with a mischievous grin before heading to the register.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, sliding her payment across the counter. “I’ll be back.”

“Come back anytime!”

I walked her to the door, and outside, she turned, flashing a wink and a wave. “See you at school!”

“Yeah, see you!” I called after her.

As she disappeared into the evening, I felt a spark of relief. She seemed more positive, more like herself. But her energy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but mutter, “I’ve gotta step up my game too…”

I gave my cheeks a quick slap to fire myself up, then flipped the shop’s OPEN sign to CLOSED before heading back inside.

“Oh, you flipped the sign already? Thanks~” Utahara-san called out, waving me over with her usual easygoing smile.

At the counter, her coffee-brewing tools were neatly lined up, gleaming under the café’s warm lights.

“I figured talking with Shizuku-chan might’ve fired you up, Jun-kun,” she said, her tone teasing but sharp. “So I thought I’d give you a brewing lesson for the first time in a while.”

“Really!?” My voice betrayed my excitement.

“Yup.” She smirked, leaning against the counter. “You want to brew coffee that’ll soothe Shizuku-chan, right?”

“…Yeah,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks warm.

Utahara-san’s scarily good at reading people. She’d seen right through how much Shizuku’s energy had inspired me.

“Alright, let’s practice step by step. Start with the light roast beans, maybe?” Utahara-san suggested, her tone warm yet precise, guiding me with the ease of a seasoned mentor.

I nodded, taking the beans she’d prepared and grinding them carefully in the mill. The rhythmic whir of the grinder filled the air, and though being coached by someone I admired so deeply felt daunting, it was also an honor—one I couldn’t take lightly.

With the grounds ready, I placed them in the paper filter and brewed the coffee, mimicking Utahara-san’s earlier steps with meticulous care. Each motion was deliberate, every second counted, as I aimed to replicate her method perfectly. Once the brew was complete, I poured a cup and offered it to her, my hands steady despite the nerves coiling in my chest.

“Please, have a taste,” I said, voice quieter than I intended.

“Sure, thank you,” Utahara-san replied, accepting the cup with a gentle smile.

My heart pounded as she brought the cup to her lips. I was confident—the grind was perfect, the brewing time kept under three minutes—but the weight of her judgment made my pulse race.

“Hmm, I see…” she murmured after a sip, nodding thoughtfully before setting the cup down.

I held my breath, waiting.

“You’ve grown, Jun-kun,” she said, her eyes meeting mine with quiet approval. “It’s a world of difference from a year ago. Your hard work is really paying off.”

“Really?!” The word burst out before I could stop it, relief and excitement mingling in my voice.

“There’s barely any off-flavors, and the strength is well-balanced,” she continued. “But if you’re aiming to serve this in a shop, it’s still one step short.”

“One step… What’s missing?” I asked, leaning forward, eager to understand.

“Experience, maybe.” Her tone was measured, as if weighing each word. “It’s natural that the brewing method changes slightly depending on the beans, but beyond that, you also have to adjust for their condition.”

“The condition of the beans?” I echoed, puzzled.

“Your brewing just now was perfectly by-the-book, not a single mistake,” she explained. “But, just like people, every bean has its own personality. Even beans of the same type can vary slightly depending on temperature or humidity, so the same approach isn’t always ideal. In other words, you need to read the mood of the beans in front of you.”

“…I see.” The personality of the beans, huh. The thought lingered, heavy with meaning. I couldn’t yet discern those subtle differences, couldn’t hear the beans  to me. Would I ever reach that point?

Utahara-san’s voice softened, pulling me from my thoughts. “Still, I never thought I’d be teaching you about the personality of beans this soon… You’ve really put in a lot of effort, haven’t you? Good job, good job.”

“Thank you,” I said, warmth spreading through me at her praise. It meant more than I could express, coming from her.

I’d keep working hard. To brew delicious coffee. To become someone Shizuku could be proud to call a friend.