# Part Five: Two Coffee Shops
## Chapter 11: The Same Shop, Different Customers
Mizuno returned to Segawa’s shop about three months after his first cup there.
On a weekend afternoon, he turned off his recorder at the entrance to the shopping arcade. Unlike the early morning, shoppers’ voices, bicycle bells, and vendors calling from storefronts overlapped along the street.
When he turned onto the street with the shop, two white signs stood side by side that had not been there before.
One read:
Today’s Daily Coffee
500 yen
The other read:
Reservation-Only Tasting
Every Saturday
The earlier menu remained as well. Panama Geisha, 1,000 yen. The price had not changed.
Segawa recognized Mizuno as soon as he entered.
“It’s been a while.”
“You remember me?”
“You’re the person who drank the Geisha and asked whether I should add something for people in the neighborhood.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No. I did add something.”
There were four customers inside. A man in work clothes was drinking alone by the window. A young man and woman at the counter were alternating between two differently shaped cups. At the back, a woman slowly raised her cup while working on a laptop.
There were more customers than before, but the shop was not full. Empty chairs remained between them.
The counter menu had grown from three items to four. At the top was the 500-yen daily coffee. Beneath it were the same blend, Ethiopian coffee, and Panama Geisha as before.
“What will you have today?”
Mizuno looked once at the word Geisha, then ordered the daily coffee.
Segawa took beans from a separate container, and the short sound of the grinder spread through the shop.
While it ran, the man by the window stood to pay.
“This was easy to drink.”
“Thank you.”
“When I saw the price outside before, I figured this wasn’t a shop for me.”
The man placed a 500-yen coin on the counter.
“For this, I’ll come again.”
“Any time.”
When the man left, the window seat opened. Mizuno moved there and listened to the conversation between the couple at the counter.
“This one is brighter,” the woman said of one cup.
“As the temperature drops, the aroma will open a little more,” Segawa replied.
The man checked the farm name and processing method on the card beside the cup.
In the same shop, one person drank a quick cup and left, two people compared flavors, and another stayed for a long time while working. They all ordered coffee, but that did not mean they had come for the same reason.
Segawa brought Mizuno’s coffee.
The white cup was slightly thicker than the one used for the Geisha, and there was no card with farm information.
“Today it’s a blend of Brazilian and Colombian beans. I prioritized sweetness and ease of drinking over aroma.”
The first sip had a mild bitterness. He did not need to recall an explanation to understand the taste or wait for it to cool. It was not thin, and after he swallowed, a sweetness like burnt sugar remained.
“It’s good.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you switch to cheaper beans?”
“They’re cheaper than the Geisha.”
After answering, Segawa continued in a tone that suggested he understood what Mizuno was asking.
“But I didn’t choose them only to lower the price.”
“You chose them as a daily coffee?”
“Yes. I made it a flavor people can drink without thinking too much, in the middle of work or on the way home from shopping.”
It was also different from the blend at Yoshioka’s shop. Yoshioka made a flavor that would not disturb a fifteen-minute break. Segawa’s 500-yen cup looked like one that could reach people entering a specialty shop for the first time.
“The earlier Geisha is still the same.”
“I haven’t changed it. The beans, the price, or the way I serve it.”
“If you put out a cheaper coffee, doesn’t that become all people buy?”
“On some days.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me if someone drinks only the daily coffee and leaves.”
“Even if they never drink the Geisha?”
“If that’s what they want to drink.”
The answer was short.
Segawa had not given up the beans he wanted people to drink and changed the shop into a place for the 500-yen product. He had left the 1,000-yen Geisha untouched and was reaching people looking for those beans by another route.
“But for people who want rare beans, I made a different entrance.”
The notice Segawa indicated described a two-hour tasting session. Participants would compare small amounts of three coffees. Beneath the date, time, and reservation method were the names of two roasters.
“I’m announcing it together with roasters I know.”
“The people who referred the customer from Kyoto before?”
“One of them. They tell their customers about our tasting. I also refer people to them when they want to buy beans.”
“So instead of advertising the shop, you advertise the tasting?”
“If I only announce the location, the reason to come is weak.”
Even if the shop’s address was widely known, people looking for rare beans would not necessarily make the trip. Conversely, explaining farms and processing methods in detail to people passing nearby would not become an entrance if they only wanted an everyday cup.
The woman at the counter ordered more.
“Could we add one cup of the Panama next?”
“Yes. Will you share it?”
“Please.”
Segawa divided one cup between two small cups.
For the pair drinking rare beans, there was a set amount and time for comparing flavors. Mizuno’s 500-yen coffee, meanwhile, could be drunk without reading an explanation closely.
Segawa was not trying to gather every customer in the shop around the same product.
“I separated the entrances,” he said.
“For people nearby, there’s the sign outside. For people looking for unusual beans, there are the tastings and referrals from roasters.”
“It’s still the same shop.”
“It is.”
“And the customers aren’t fixed on one side or the other.”
“Someone who drinks the daily coffee may order the Geisha on another day.”
But he did not intend to require that of everyone.
“I stopped thinking that everyone had to drink the Geisha from the start.”
Mizuno took another sip of the 500-yen coffee. The temperature had fallen slightly, but the impression of the flavor had not changed much. For this cup, that was enough.
“Before, were you making one product do two jobs?”
“Two jobs?”
“A product people travel for, and a product people nearby drink every day.”
Segawa did not answer immediately.
At the counter, the couple were talking about the aroma of the Panama. The coffee in front of the woman with the laptop was the same 500-yen cup as Mizuno’s.
“Maybe I was,” Segawa said.
“I was trying to make one cup of Geisha both the shop’s sign and the everyday entrance.”
“That’s difficult.”
“Lowering the price of the beans wouldn’t necessarily make people in the neighborhood drink it. And if I changed it into a flavor for the neighborhood, it would stop meaning anything to the people who came looking for those beans.”
What Mizuno had asked before was whether Segawa should add products suited to the area. But what Segawa had protected was not only the price of the 1,000-yen beans. He had not diluted the reason to drink them into a product for the neighborhood.
“So you separated them.”
“Yes.”
“At first, I thought choosing good beans and brewing them properly was enough to run the shop.”
Segawa’s confidence in the beans he chose remained in his voice. He had not discarded that because it was wrong. There had simply been other work it did not cover.
“Making a good product and making it possible for the people who want it to come here were different things. If I want people nearby to come, I need a product that suits them too.”
“The work of bringing people in.”
“That’s right.”
It was not an answer Mizuno had taught him. After seeing the empty chairs and the people who passed without entering, Segawa had added products and entrances rather than changing the beans he wanted to drink.
Mizuno opened his notebook and wrote four words.
Quality
Price
Customer
Entrance
Before, he had thought that if a good product was given the correct price and there were customers who understood that price, it would sell.
But the existence of those customers somewhere and their ability to reach the shop were different things. Nor did everyone using the same shop necessarily seek the same satisfaction.
From “customer,” he drew two lines. Beside one, he wrote “everyday.” Beside the other, “destination.”
The everyday line led to the 500-yen coffee.
The destination line led to the 1,000-yen Geisha.
Both entered the same shop.
After Mizuno paid and went outside, a woman stopped at the 500-yen sign. She looked into the shop and opened the glass door. The bell rang.
At the same time, the couple from the counter came out. They walked away from the station, talking about the names of the beans they had just drunk.
They had used the same door.
The roads that brought them to the shop and what they carried away were different.
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