Stop! Stop! This isn't working! Aiyah, I need a break. Hey, don't smoke in here! Why? Because Kai will smell it. Here, just lean out the window. Thank you, Zoe. You're easily my favorite. How come you like Zoe so much, but it seems like you hate me? Because she has two feet! By the way, Adam, where is Kai? Is he still avoiding us? Well, we didn't talk much this morning, other than him saying he was headed to an eye appointment. But I mean, it wasn't that big of a thing, right?
I mean, I doubt he's still super pissed off at us. Kai is sitting in the waiting room of the eye hospital in the middle of a phone call. God, I'm still super pissed off at them. Yeah, I know. I know, Mom, but I- Kai Takahashi? Sorry, can I call you back? They're ready to see me. Love you too. Bye. The optometrist will see you shortly. Go ahead and sit in that chair. What?! Metal clamps suddenly pin Kai's wrists to the arms of the exam chairs. What the hell?
Relax. Those are just part of the exam. Is this really necessary? It's part of our new method of procedure. It's unorthodox, but the results are far more accurate. Okay, but why do I need to be restrained? Will it be painful? Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Doctor Medicine. Yeah, nice to meet you too, but why are you restraining me? I won't lie to you, Kai. I was looking over your file, and there is a lot to catch up on. Okay, yeah, it's been a while.
It isn't wise to neglect things until they build up into larger problems. Sure, but I still have to ask. Will this be painful? There's no time to waste. The exam will start off like usual. I'll show you some slides with letters on them, and you will read them back to me. Slide number one. Go ahead and read these aloud, top to bottom. Fine. A-E-D-C-B-H-J-K-F-O-T-M. Good. Next slide. A-S-C-A-R-E-D-C-H-I.....I-L-D. Okay. Next slide. Having trouble seeing it? No. It's a picture of a coffee shop.
Not just any coffee shop. It's Japaccino, the most successful chain of coffee houses in the country, founded by Kazuo Takahashi in 1996. Did you know that he was only 23 years old at the time? Yeah, I know. Stories like that will really make you feel behind in life. Ah, I just realized. You two share the same name. You wouldn't happen to know one another, would you? He's my father. My, my. What a coincidence. It's such a small world that we live in. Are you ready to move along? Yeah. Is that...?
Go ahead and tell me what you see. How do you have this picture? Tell me what you see on the slide, Kai. It's my father in the jungles of Yirgacheffe. You weren't born yet, but your mother told you all about it. How your father braved the wilds to better understand the origin of his life's work. And where better to search than Ethiopia, the coffee cradle of the world. How do you know all of this? What happened in that jungle all those years ago? How did your father get that scar? A lion attack.
Before anyone could react, it was already on top of him, biting down on his head. The others were armed with rifles, but they were afraid to take the shot and hit your father by accident. Its teeth were clamping down, tighter and tighter, but for a brief moment, the animal let go. It probably wanted to reposition itself to your father's neck. They prefer to sever the spinal cord to kill their prey, you see. But in that small window of time, your father took action.
He shoved his left arm into the lion's mouth and used his right to press a sidearm to its head. It was over as quickly as it began, but your father suffered several lacerations on his face and shoulder, and the tendons of his arm were dangling off the bone. He bled profusely for the nine hours that it took to reach the nearest hospital, but he was quiet for the duration of the ride. In fact, he was the one at the steering wheel, not one sign of pain or weakness.
Hmm, you, I'm not so sure. But your dad--now that's a real man. Wouldn't you agree? The way you're talking about this, you were there? You could say that. Do you recognize this one? I suppose you lived it, but you wouldn't remember. Your mother held you close in her warm embrace, just moments after they clipped your umbilical cord. Oh, my baby, my sweet boy. Kazuo, come look at our son. She was overwhelmed with the feelings of love and affection you'd expect from a new mother.
But your father was facing the wall, crossing his arms in an act of bullheaded defiance. I will lay my eyes upon the boy when he can brew a fine cup of coffee. What's happening right now? I don't want to see this. Let me out of here! Oh, I can't do that. The exam isn't finished. Besides, we haven't even gotten to the good part. Let me out of here right now! Eight years passed, and he never once laid his eyes upon you. He was hardly ever around you.
And even when he was, he'd keep his eyelids tightly shut. You entered the room and saw him there, sitting on his knees and wearing his usual hakama. He heard your footsteps. Show me. Sitting atop the saucer you were holding was a small cup of black coffee. It was something you obsessed over for so long, desperate to perfect, and you were handing it over to your father.
You spent an hour on the beans alone, eventually settling on a batch of Sidamo Ethiopian washed coffee, and meticulously tweaked the grind size for the perfect flavor profile. You chose a dark roast, knowing it was his preference, and brewed it at a high temperature for a bolder and more robust finish. You watched him anxiously as he took a sip. He dashed the cup against the ground, scattering shards of porcelain around the room.
Then he sat in silence. For a moment, the only sound was your trembling. Why am I so disappointed in this? I know the answer, but I want to hear you say it. I... I don't know. I... I don't... I have little patience for muttering. It appears that it falls on me to say the words aloud. Your coffee has no heart. The flavor was unbalanced, likely the cause of the beans being ground too finely, or the brew temperature being too high, causing over-extraction.
It tasted as though it was made in a frenzy. It had the stink of desperation. You were desperate, weren't you? Desperate for something you'd never get. Just one small shred of warmth from your old man. You can't keep me here like this! I told you to let me out! Two years later, you would finally brew a cup of coffee decent enough to see your father's eyes for the first time. But it didn't bring you any comfort. All that could be seen in them were more expectations. Expectations you'd never meet.
How about this side? I don't care! Wrong, it's an X-ray of your hand. Your father was teaching you karate. There were fifteen cinder blocks stacked in front of him. Your senses must be keen, Kai. If you hope to get anywhere in this world, you must be strong in both mind and body. Observe. Taaaaaarrrrrraaah! You were eleven years old, small for your age, and you thought to yourself, how could I ever hope to do something like that?
Luckily, your father set up just one block for you to break, rather than his fifteen. But sadly, you couldn't even manage that, could you? Ah! Ow! You fail because you're conflicted. Your mind needs to be clear. S-sorry. Again. Ah! Your mind is still not clear! And how could it be? Being around your father always left you on edge. Your head was never clear. Ah! Enough. You've reached your limit.
And then your father walked away. Your hand was throbbing, but his disappointment in you stung far worse. For the first time, something rose within you. A spiteful determination that pushed you to keep trying until you succeeded. All alone, you struck the cinder block over and over until your skin was bloody and raw. It was like you were in a trance, and the only thing that would break you out of it was succeeding. Finally, after twenty-three tries, the stone gave way to your hand.
You were so happy that you raced to your father's room to tell him. I did it! Show me your hand. Now close it. I can't. It's broken. What did I tell you? I said that you were at your limit! Now I have to take you to the hospital. I'm sorry. I just wanted... I thought you'd be happy. Happy? There is much to do around the house. And now you won't be able to pull your own weight until you've healed. How can I be happy with a son who only thinks of himself?! It's not like I did it on purpose!
You will show me respect. That hurt. Good. Maybe next time you will use that head a bit more. So sad. You always try so hard, but fall so short. Let me out. Are you sure? I have more slides. Let me out. Are you actually crying right now? Sorry. Where are my manners? I never answered your question earlier. Whether this would be painful. I suppose it always is. Realizing that you're nothing special. That's right. You've known it for some time now.
You try to forget, or better yet, to prove to yourself that it isn't true. But reality always catches back up to you eventually. Kai watches as the doctor crouches down in front of a large hatch on the floor. The trapdoor is 8 by 12 feet, and it definitely wasn't there when Kai first entered the room. He turns a wheel-shaped latch and pulls. Impossibly, the open frame leads to a dead drop above the ocean. That's not possible. I'd hold my breath if I were you.
Before he can react, his chair is kicked forward, and he falls to the sea below. He begins to sink, his wrists still bound to the heavy chair. He tries to break himself free, but it's no use. The current is pulling him down deeper and deeper, and the salt burns his eyes as he watches the light of the surface drift further and further away, leaving him to be claimed by the cold, black depths. Panic gives way to a serene sense of calm as he finally relents to the water.
Then, it eagerly fills his lungs. The last light of the sun shrinks to the size of a pinhole, and then closes up entirely. Why is it so peaceful? That's right. Because it's dark. No one can find me. Yeah. I guess that means it's true. He opens his eyes to see that he's washed up on the shore. He stands and walks wearily from the shallows to the sand. I see. I can't run any longer.
Each step feels like an eternity as he slowly makes his way toward the keyboard that's waiting for him at the heart of the desolate beach.