２．広瀬
青山の表参道から一本、折れる。
ブランドの重なりが途切れた先で、街の顔つきが変わる。舗道の脇にせり出して出迎えるのは、南国めいた大きな葉。その隙間からは、木枠の窓と、壁に沿う背の高い本棚が見える。
客の小声や湯の音がテーブルの木目に沈むなか、綾瀬大二郎は、文庫本に目を落としていた。
——その均衡を破ったのは、突き抜ける若い女性の声。
「えー！？ ペイペイ使えないの？ カードもダメなの！？」
「申し訳ございません。当店は現金のみとなっております」
「背伸びして、レトロ喫茶に入ったのが間違いか……！」
彼女はカバンの底を漁り始めた。
綾瀬は使い込んだ栞を挟むと、そっと懐に手を差し込んだ。馬皮の財布から一枚を抜き取り、椅子から立ち上がる。
「これで払いなさいな」
女性は驚いて顔を上げた。
差し出された札を見つめ、戸惑いの色を見せた後に、受け取った。
「ありがとう、ございます……」
「構わんよ。若い人はタッチレスが主流じゃろう。年寄りはいつも現金を持っとるからな」
それ以上何も言わず、席に戻った。
カップから香ばしさが立ちのぼる。
またいつもの午後が戻る。かと思いきや、会計を済ませた彼女が戻ってきた。椅子を引くなり、そのまま腰を下ろした。何層にも重なったスカートがふわりと舞う。
「ちょっとここで、検索させて！」
「ほお」
「お金降ろして、すぐ返すから！」
彼女は、長い爪先で器用にマップを拡げる。
「気にせんでいい」
「いや、気にするし！」
「この近くATMは、大学病院の反対側のオフィスビルまで行かなきゃないんじゃ」
「え」
「そしてこの時間は、昼休憩で長蛇の列。やめておくのがよろしい」
「……詳しいね」
「まあ、職場が近くてな」
「……じゃあ、またここくる？」
「外来がない日は、来ることが多いな」
「なら、来週の今日！ 」
「来週の『今日』？」
「同じ水曜日！ ここに来るね！ 待ち合わせね！」
ぶっきらぼうに立ち上がると、彼女は入口に向かった。
「ちょっと、そんな……えー、お嬢さん。あんた、名前くらいは」
ふり返った彼女は、歯を見せた。
「わたしね、ミロ！」
それだけ言うと、軽やかに姿を消した。
「行ってしまった……」
「行ってしまいましたね」
マスターはカウンターから少し身を乗り出して、その背を見送った。
にぎやかな余韻を残して、店には静寂が満ちる。
変わった日もあるものだと、綾瀬はコーヒーを啜り直した。
※
Turning off Omotesandō in Aoyama, just one street away, the layering of luxury brands abruptly thins, and the city seems to change its expression.
Large leaves—lush, almost tropical—push out over the edge of the sidewalk as if to greet you. Through the gaps you can glimpse wooden-framed windows and, along the wall inside, tall bookshelves rising like quiet sentinels. Low voices and the faint hiss of hot water sink into the grain of the tables.
In that softened hush, Daisuke Ayase sat with his eyes lowered to a paperback.
—The balance was broken by a young woman’s voice, bright enough to pierce the room.
“Ehh!? You can’t use PayPay? Not even a card!?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the staff said, patient as a metronome. “We accept cash only.”
“So I dressed up and came into a retro café for nothing…!” she groaned, already digging into the depths of her bag.
Ayase slid a worn bookmark between the pages and, without hurry, slipped his hand into his coat. From a horsehide wallet, he drew out a bill and rose.
“Use this to pay.”
The woman looked up, startled. Her gaze fixed on the note he held out. Confusion flickered across her face—then she took it, carefully, as though it might vanish.
“Th-thank you… very much.”
“It’s nothing,” Ayase said. “For young people, contactless is the default these days. Old folks like me always carry cash.”
He offered nothing more, returning to his seat as if the exchange had been no more remarkable than adjusting a cup. The aroma of roasted coffee rose from the rim, warm and faintly bitter.
The afternoon, he thought, had been restored to its usual shape.
But the woman—after settling the bill at the register—came back.
She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her layered skirt lifted and fluttered, then settled around her like a small cloud.
“Let me search something here for a sec!”
“Hm.”
“I’ll go withdraw money and pay you right back!”
With long, carefully kept nails, she unfolded a map on the table with surprising dexterity.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I am worrying about it!”
“The nearest ATM,” Ayase said, “you’d have to go all the way to the office building across from the university hospital.”
“Huh?”
“And at this hour it’ll be lunch break. A queue like a train platform. Better not.”
She stared at him a moment. “You… know a lot.”
“My workplace is nearby.”
A beat.
“…Then you come here often?”
“On days I don’t have outpatient appointments, I do.”
“Then next week—today!”
“Next week’s ‘today’?”
“Same Wednesday! I’ll come here! Let’s meet up!”
She stood with a briskness that bordered on rude, then headed straight for the door.
“W-wait—hold on,” Ayase called after her, his voice catching up late.
“Miss. At least—your name—”
She turned back, teeth flashing in a grin that had more mischief than courtesy.
“I’m Miro!”
And with that—light as a tossed coin—she slipped out of the café and was gone.
“She left,” Ayase murmured.
“She certainly did,” the master said, leaning a little out from behind the counter to watch her disappear.
The place filled again with quiet, as if the brief commotion had been a gust of wind and the air had finally settled. Thinking that even ordinary days could tilt, just slightly, into the strange, Ayase lifted his cup and took another sip of coffee.
