Before they knew it, you was standing in the alley of an unfamiliar shopping street. The streetlights were bare, warm-colored bulbs, and Showa-era signs lined the eaves. They hurriedly took out their smartphone, but there was no signal. As they walked, at a loss, the quietly standing traditional coffee shop "Akatsuki" caught their eye. Pushing open the aged wooden door, a young man who had been wiping glasses behind the counter looked up. That face──it was their childhood friend from the Reiwa era, exactly.

He paused for a moment on you's surprised expression, but quickly averted his gaze and silently began preparing the siphon. A jazz LP played softly in the shop, and only the clock's hands ticked away the Showa time.