COFFEE # THE FOURTH NIGHT

━━ WHEN SENSES TRANSCEND DREAMS.

It's a different place this time.

Ushijima stands in a café which seems just as out of touch with reality as the lavender fields from before. Light lofi music rings out, slightly echoey with the empty, shallow tone of an abandoned mall. The pastel yellow lighting of hippie bulbs flatters his eyes. Strange thing is, most of the café is barely there; a sketch, perhaps, or the blurred vision when looking through peripherals. The only realistic detailing is a specific corner of the shop where a round wooden table awaits, two ying-yang salt and pepper shakers sitting atop with the table number 11. Mottled shadows are peacefully cast onto the area, no doubt from various trees outside which are invisible behind the bright, blank window situated to the left. The shadows waver softly in an unfelt breeze.

The atmosphere isn't as soothing as the lavender fields from before, although he can feel the genuine love held for this café. The bitter undertones hint at an incoming storm, however, settling in his veins like increasingly heavy lead.

Rotten.

Ushijima makes his way to the table, unsure of what else to do. He takes a seat, the chair softly scraping against wooden floorboards, and waits, eyes meandering and taking in everything.

He's wearing the same thing as before, a thin white shirt and pants. Takara doesn't apparently; she doesn't enter through the vaguely shaped door but materialises somewhere out of his vision and steps into his peripherals. Instead of that dress, she wears a black pleated skirt with a slip camisole— cream in colour again— white thigh highs and pumps. A sense of nervousness washes over him. He's unsure whether it is his, or hers.

She takes a seat. The chair doesn't make a single noise.

"Where is this?" He asks.

"Hello to you too, Ushijma-san," she retorts lightheartedly. He gives her a stiff nod. "This is Kyoko's House. My favourite café."

Ushijima gives a non committal grunt. "Why are we here?"

Unsurprisingly, Takara doesn't give a straight answer. Instead, she blinks at him.

"Here." Two cups of coffee materialise on the table, emitting a fragrant smell with a mouth watering tinge. Ushijima figures that a witch made this because it couldn't be possible such heavenly coffee exists without adding a little sprinkle of charm and taste— oh, Takara's thoughts are merging with his again. He doesn't smile, though he feels a semblance of amusement at her childishness. It really is magical, this dream dimension where things appear and disappear, focusing only on what Takara would have focused on, and heightened, sensitive senses.

"It's my favourite," she gives a crooked smile and picks up her cup. "Try it."

He's never been a fan of coffee because it affects his performance in volleyball, making him too jittery. But he brings it to his lips anyway, and doesn't regret it when the taste invaded his tongue. Creamy and sweet with a hint of bitterness and caramel, it blends with the slightly flowery aroma. He can taste the soft love and that drop of animosity— of what, he doesn't know.

"This is a dream," he remarks.

"It is, dear Ushijima-san."

He pauses. "No wonder it tastes so good."

"I tell everyone I like to try it," she announces.

"Like?" He echoes. Ushijima is unsure what she means, and feels the second hand embarrassment that floods from her.

"U-uh, I mean, aren't we friends?"

"Friends," he echoes again and feels another wave of cringe and embarrassment from her. His heart beats faster, in sync with hers. Ushijima is still confused to why she is panicking. "Yeah, we are."

Pink tints her cheeks and she shifts in her seat, adjusting the cream camisole in a flustered manner.

"Cool beans," she chokes out and blushes harder.

Ushijima doesn't dwell on it— he doesn't get most social cues, in fact. Instead, he repeats his first question.

"Why this place?"

There is a pause, and her blush disappears as rapidly as it appeared. "What do you feel?" She questions.

"You love this place," he states blandly. "But there is something rotten behind it."

"Correct." She gives a heartbreaking smile, and the world starts to unravel. The wooden table melts onto their laps, the chairs too until they're sitting across from each other on only air. The coffee spills all over their lap, and Ushijima stands up in alarm. The shifting shadows of leaves freeze up, and rapidly expand into nothingness while the light bulbs fizz, buzz, and blink out of existence.

All around them, the world is pitch black. Somehow, Ushijima can still see Takara as clear as day, and still feel the waves of love emitting from all around him. The lofi music continues, undisturbed.

Takara looks up at meets his gaze, only able to offer a sheepish smile. Inside his chest, the organs begin to work a little harder. He shifts his gaze away from hers, looking around into the emptiness to search for something, anything. When his eyes finally return to her figure, he blinks in surprise.

He watched with morbid fascination as her cream camisole turns black.

-
If any of you read my bsd fic Underdog, yes it is a reference to the same cafe lol I just love the name and the book and the layers of meanings it adds

Kyoko's House is written by Haruki Murakami, a Japanese literature author. It's been said that each of the four characters in this book is an aspect of his own identity (including narcissistic borderline god complexes).

What do you think it means when Ushi and Taka go into Kyoko's House? What about it unravelling?