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The shop manager made change for the customer in front of her, then spotted the boys through the front window, recognising them instantly. The little blond one had a delightfully giddy smile on his face, the same look he had on his face every day when they walked by on their way to or from somewhere. Like usual, he made no effort to stop bouncing in place, gesturing wildly toward the inside of the sweet shop, banging his hand into the glass in his excitement. The sudden noise startled the patrons trying to enjoy their coffees and desserts in peace, but the ones by the window would look outside. Their scowls dissolved into amusement once they witnessed the outside performance for themselves.
The older boy, dark haired but clearly related to the blond one, put his hands up in supplication, and barely put up a fight as the smaller one grabbed him by his shirt sleeve and began tugging in the direction of the shop door.
“Stop, Mikey! You’re gonna pull my arm off!” The older boy’s voice carried through the doorway as customers left with their takeaway boxes. The blond barged his way in without apologies to those he jostled, though the other boy did pause to bow as they passed him, murmuring appeasements for the younger one’s rudeness.
The little blond made a beeline to the dessert display by the register. His hands, nose and lips smeared the glass but he was too busy drooling over the vast array of choices on the shelves behind it to care, wide eyed and enamoured with everything offered.
Three shelves worth of delights were advertised in the little cabinet alone and Mikey had no idea what he should select this time. The purin? Was he in the mood for a caramel flavour today? No, not today. He had the custard treat last time. Green tea cookies? No, too boring, even with chocolate chunks added. Wait, that one near the back. “Daifuku? Can we get that?” The boy nestled his fingers together as if in prayer to the older boy, who had the money out of his pocket a moment later, counting on his fingers.
“You don’t want your usual?” Mikey shook his head and eagerly pointed at the tray of little white cakes filled with red bean paste again. “Okay.” Shinichiro asked for a box full and traded his bills for the wrapped package a moment later.
“It’s my birthday!” Mikey announced with pride to the woman behind the counter.
“That’s lovely, dear! How old are you today?”
Mikey put some fingers up. “Five!”
“That’s too many fingers, Mikey.” Mikey readjusted his advertising, making V shapes with fingers on both hands instead, then added thumbs, then took one away again.
“Five!” he repeated, grinning.
Shinichiro burst out laughing. “Now you’ve got it! You goofball.”
“Well, isn’t that a stroke of luck!” The baker put her hand up, asking that they wait a moment, then hurried around to the kitchen half of the space, returning with a slice of cheesecake drizzled with red sauce and cherries, a candle poked into it already lit. “The five-year-old birthday special.”
The shopkeeper loved the look on the boy’s face as he realised what was happening. The other boy looked just as surprised and dug into his pockets for more money to cover the cost of the unexpected slice, but she shook her head. “No charge. Five is special for a boy.”
“Don’t forget to say ‘thank-you,’ Mikey,” the older boy chuckled again, ruffling the blond’s hair.
***
Mikey leaned against the lamp post outside the shop, contemplating. He and Shin used to pass that bakery every day on the way to and from school. They didn’t stop every day, but once or twice a month one or both of them would drop a bit of allowance money on a freshly baked delight they could share, and share with their half-sister Emma, a year younger than Mikey and still at home back then. When she got old enough for school, Emma had no qualms over giving up all her coins for the chance to buy sweets, too.
Definitely a Sano.
Later, Mikey suspected that the owner had adopted them to some degree, or at least considered them favourite customers. Mikey got his free cake at five, Emma devoured her free slice when she turned seven, and Shin hadn’t expected one for his twentieth, but was served a slice anyway. But, the baker didn’t wait for special birthdays to drop free snacks on them.
“Oh dear,” she’d say, “This cookie broke when I took it out of the oven. I can’t sell this one. Would you like to have it?” Or, “Oh dear, I don’t know if I like the taste of this new sauce. Try a sample! What do you think?” Then liberally pour it over a handy test dish of mochi. It would, of course, be the most fantastic flavour any of them had ever tried in their young lives.
They were completely spoiled.
And it couldn’t last.
With Shin’s passing, Mikey and Emma made an unspoken agreement to find a new route to school, wanting to avoid the reminders of better days with the three of them together. They took their allowance money to a different vendor with different, less tantalising flavours, and never got remembered by anyone who worked there, a rotating staff of young people who cared just enough to make sure their customers got and paid for what they ordered, but otherwise spent their shifts on their phones.
So, on this day, Mikey had to admit to himself that he was surprised to find the old bakery still open on the same old corner of their same old neighbourhood and - unless his eyes played tricks - the same old woman stood at the register. She was greyer now and maybe shorter than she used to be, but she still smiled at everyone who walked in looking to treat themselves or someone they loved.
After another minute of watching, he walked over to the door but paused on the sidewalk tiles outside, not entering. Customers jostled him on their way out, looking at him apologetically, but also accusingly, as he’d been in the way of their neat exit from the building.
Mikey tented his fingers together and bowed slightly to each one, offering his apologies to the affronted women, who barely took a moment to smile back at him before striding away, immersed once more in conversation.
He opened the door and crossed the threshold, steeling himself. A lifetime, yet a moment only, since he’d been in the shop last. The same sweet scents and anticipated flavours enveloped him. The same charm and laughter as the manager and her waiting customers traded banter and neighbourhood news.
Mikey paused by the register, taking in the advertised treats on display, leaning down to get a better look at the array. He wasn’t five anymore, though he wasn’t much taller than he had been then, really. But he kept his fingers, nose and mouth off the glass, browsing by sight alone.
“Do you know what you’d like, son?” The elderly shopkeeper asked him, smiling. Mikey wouldn’t claim for certain, but the old woman had a look in her eye, like she somehow recognised him, even after so many years away, even with short black hair and the stylized dragon tattoo on his neck. Mikey looked in her direction, but remained positioned by the glass, one arm over his chest, and the other propped so his fingers could trace and pull at his full lips while he decided.
“I think I’d like the dorayaki. It’s my birthday.”
“That’s lovely, dear! How old are you today?”
Mikey stared at his fingers momentarily, remembering, smiling. “Twenty.”
“Well, isn’t that a stroke of luck! Wait here.”
The old woman hobbled her way into the back half of the shop, where the kitchen was, returning a moment later with a slice of cheesecake. It had a candle tucked though the sauce and cherries, already lit, and she waved away his attempt to pay for it.
“No charge. Twenty is special for a man.” She passed him the plate with a smile.
“Thank you.”