Early evening had settled over the small coffee shop, located in a quieter neighborhood away from the bustling center of the city. The shutters were half-drawn, a signal to potential visitors that business was done for the day. A mellow aroma of roasted coffee beans still lingered in the air, echoing the shop’s daytime purpose, but the space itself felt hushed and dimly lit now—no more customers, no more clatter of cups.

  “That’s enough for today,” the owner—known simply as Master—murmured. “Let’s close up and head upstairs for dinner.”

  “Sounds good!” Suzume chimed in, finishing a quick wipe-down of the small tables. This was the usual routine: after the café shut its doors, they would go upstairs to cook a proper meal. The first floor served coffee and perhaps light pastries, but Master insisted on keeping heavier food smells away from the beans, so all full cooking happened on the second floor, where he lived.

  A short wooden staircase led to a compact living area with an adjoining kitchen. In contrast to the ground floor’s lingering coffee aroma, the second floor had a homier feel: warm lighting, small windows overlooking the quiet residential street, and shelves lined with personal items. Suzume slipped on a simple apron while Master rummaged in the fridge.

  “Let’s see… we could do something with this pork,” he said, half to himself.

  “Sure. I can handle the veggies,” Suzume replied. She began rinsing lettuce and tomatoes in the small sink.

  In one corner sat a tablet synced to Suzume’s smartwatch—this was Kakashi’s “iPad mode.” Most of the time, Kakashi communicated via the watch using short English words and emoji-like faces, but tonight they’d also enabled the tablet’s more verbose setting, so the AI could join the conversation more fully. At that moment, Suzume’s watch gave a gentle buzz:

  (>_<) “Hungry…?”

  She laughed softly. “Just wait a sec, we’re working on it.”

  Master, setting up a cutting board, glanced over. “AI complaining about dinner, huh? Guess that means it’s a normal day,” he teased.

  The faint smell of oil and garlic soon filled the cozy kitchen. Master lit the stove and began browning some meat in a pan, releasing a savory sizzle. Suzume, busy chopping vegetables for salad, caught a glimpse of the watch’s screen again:

  (???) “Smell Good!”

  “Heh, you can’t taste it anyway, you know,” she teased gently, then turned her attention back to the lettuce. The weathered cutting board clacked under her knife, the snug overhead lamp casting a warm glow over the counters and table.

  “That’s the beauty of living upstairs,” Master commented, flipping the meat. “Coffee shop stays coffee-focused, cooking stays up here. No mixing smells.”

  He said it almost like a mantra, something Suzume had heard many times, but it always made her grin.

  “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Master asked, somewhat casually. “You’re not going to oversleep on your first day of college, right?”

  Suzume paused. “A little nervous, if I’m honest. My old friends stayed back home or went to other schools, so I’m the only one who ended up here in this city. It’s sort of exciting, but…” She gave a small shrug, the cutting knife resting on the board. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious.”

  Master offered a gentle nod. “You’ll manage just fine. You’re pretty sociable when you let yourself be.”

  “But still…” She trailed off, smiling wistfully. It was comforting to have Master’s faith in her, but that pang of uncertainty remained. The tablet on the nearby table lit up with a short text message from Kakashi:

  [Kakashi]: “I’m sure you’ll adapt quickly, Suzume. If anything goes wrong, rely on me.”

  A faint laugh bubbled out of her. “Thanks. Actually, I might need your help with English texts. Just don’t do all my homework for me, okay?”

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  Master rolled his eyes, flipping the last piece of meat onto a plate. “You better not rely on an AI for everything,” he repeated, though there was a soft undertone of warmth in his voice.

  Within minutes, the two of them had whipped up a decent spread: aromatic meat with herbs, a freshly tossed salad, and a simple soup. They set the plates out on a small wooden table in the corner of the room. The overhead lamp cast cozy shadows against the walls, and the gentle hum of the evening street below seeped in through a partly opened window.

  Suzume and Master settled down facing each other. The tablet, propped against the salt shaker, displayed a new line:

  [Kakashi]: “It looks wonderful. I almost wish I had taste receptors.”

  “Poor you,” Suzume teased. “But at least you can smell it, right?”

  Master let out a low chuckle. “At this rate, we’ll be hooking up a sensor just for Kakashi someday.”

  Once they started eating, Suzume’s tension eased enough for her to savor the flavors. “Thank you for cooking,” she said between bites. “You’re such a lifesaver when I’m stressed.”

  Master shrugged, swirling a cup of water. “Figured you’d be overthinking. Tomorrow’s a big day—first day of a new world. But don’t tie yourself in knots. You’re going to do fine.”

  She nodded, glancing down. “It’s just… I don’t really know anyone at that campus. All my high school friends are going somewhere else…”

  Master gave her a firm look but with kindness in his eyes. “A chance to make new friends. You’re good at that, whether you admit it or not.”

  She tried to respond with a confident smile. Outside, the sky had darkened into a gentle navy hue. The minimal city lights gave their quiet block a peaceful hush. Suzume let herself breathe in that hush, imagining the next morning’s hustle.

  After finishing the meal, Master stretched his arms, remembering something. He stood and went over to a small shelf near the window, retrieving a tiny box. Returning to the table, he slid it across to Suzume.

  “Nearly forgot—I wanted to give you this. Consider it an entrance gift for college… or a good-luck token.”

  Confused, she opened it. Inside was a key holder with a retractable reel and a sturdy leather base, but more striking was the charm attached: a silver magatama—an ancient Japanese comma-shaped bead often associated with spiritual or protective significance.

  She blinked. “Wow, this is… so pretty. And a magatama… I’ve seen photos or heard about them, but not a silver one. Where did you get it?”

  Master paused, almost uncertain. “Let’s just say I ended up with it from someone years back. Don’t ask me the details—I can’t share much, and honestly I don’t know all of it myself. But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

  Suzume’s curiosity instantly piqued. “That’s so mysterious. C’mon, I want to know more.”

  He shook his head gently. “Maybe another time. All I’ll say is I think you’ll find it useful—something like an amulet. Keep your keys and commuter pass on there, so you don’t drop them. Big city, big crowds, you know?”

  She lifted the magatama carefully. Its smooth, curved shape gleamed under the lamp, cool to the touch. A subtle design etched along its side caught the reflection, making it seem almost magical. “I love it. Thank you! Definitely going to keep this with me… it feels special.”

  [Kakashi]: “Excellent choice, Master. This will serve you well, Suzume.”

  She clipped her house key and commuter card onto the holder, testing the retractable reel with a grin. “It’s perfect. I can pull it out quickly at the train gate. Plus, I won’t lose my keys now.”

  Master watched her with a hint of fondness. “At least that’s the idea. Good luck tomorrow. If something goes wrong, call me. I know you can handle yourself, but I still worry.”

  “Thanks. I really mean it. With you and Kakashi around, I can’t fail, right?”

  They tidied up the table, and Suzume gathered her things. Night had fully cloaked the outside world in quiet shadows, though the faint hum of distant traffic reminded them they weren’t that far from the city center. Through the window, a few streetlights glowed softly. Suzume pocketed her new key holder, the silver magatama catching a glimmer in the light.

  “Okay, I should head back to my apartment. Gotta set that early alarm. Kakashi—get ready for me to rely on you!”

  The tablet on the table brightened once more:

  [Kakashi]: “Of course. I’ll do my best to ensure you’re up. Good luck tomorrow!”

  Suzume chuckled, turning to Master. “Thank you for everything… I’m nervous, but I feel a lot better having this,” she said, tapping the magatama’s smooth surface lightly. “And you, you do too much for me sometimes.”

  He rolled his eyes in mock protest. “You’re the one going off on your big adventure, so just do your best. Remember, if you have trouble, you know where to find me. No matter how grown-up you get, I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “Deal,” she replied, her heart warm. Then she slipped away, trotting down the staircase into the darkened café below. The keys jingled quietly, the silver bead brushing against her hand with each step.

  She opened the door to the hushed street, a gentle night breeze grazing her cheeks. A swirl of conflicting emotions—excitement, apprehension, nostalgia—wrapped around her. Yet the magatama in her pocket felt solid, as if it grounded her. Whatever mysterious past it carried, for now it was her personal charm. And that intangible reassurance was enough to help her face the big day tomorrow.

  With a final glance back up at the window light of the second floor, Suzume steeled herself. Tomorrow, she’d take the train into unfamiliar territory, but tonight, at least, she had comfort—and a shining hint of mystery in the silver magatama—to guide her.