Wen Akagi, a student VTuber who loves travel and cooking as if they were the same thing, casually asks his viewers during a late-night stream what the ideal travel partner would be. The chat floods with jokes. But the next morning, a DM arrives from Mikoto, a flashy gyaru streamer at his school. She claims she seriously wants to learn to cook and travel with him. Wen, suspicious, agrees to meet at a local market. Instead of one guest, however, Haruto, Mikoto's childhood friend who is hopelessly
A Second Toast to an Unfinished Journey - A Second Toast to an Unfinished Journey
The sea breeze bit into their skin.
Shiohama Station, the final stop on the local line. The moment they stepped out of the wooden station building, the four of them stopped in their tracks. The smell of brine filled their nostrils. The sound of rusted rails still echoed faintly in their ears.
"The ocean—! Whoa, the wind's crazy! Gotta hold down my skirt!"
Mikoto laughed as her fluffy gyaru-style curls whipped wildly around her face. The star-shaped hairpin on her left ear glinted faintly under the overcast sky.
"Oi, Mikoto. Quit messing around. We need to find the inn first."
Haruto stepped in front of Mikoto, brow furrowed. The wind mercilessly tousled his undercut bangs.
"A seaside town's wind is hard to read. The aroma of dashi would be swept away in an instant here."
Rena pressed one hand against the knife roll at her hip, narrowing her eyes quietly. Her near-black chestnut ponytail streamed in the wind.
"Well, it is a seaside town. This wind is just part of Shiohama."
Wen rolled the wooden spoon pendant around his neck between his fingers as he slowly surveyed the area in front of the station.
There was one bus stop. One taxi. Beyond that, a few old shops dotted the street, sparse and scattered. Hardly a soul in sight.
(So this is Shiohama...)
Deep in Wen's chest, the words of that anonymous DM pulsed faintly.
*'An old diner in Shiohama is being sold off, land and all. Before that town's dashi is lost, you should go see it once.'*
"Hey, Wen. Where's the inn? I'm already starving."
Mikoto tugged lightly at Wen's sleeve.
"Ah, sorry. The Namima Inn is about a ten-minute walk from the station. We just go straight down this road."
Wen checked the map on his phone and pointed down the single road leading toward the sea.
The four of them began walking in silence.
Old houses lined both sides of the road. All of them had been battered by the salt wind, their walls faded and dull. A house with a torn screen door. A shop with its shutters closed. Faded fishing gear lay scattered in front yards.
(A quiet town.)
Wen thought.
(But somehow... lonely.)
The open, bright atmosphere typical of seaside towns was absent. Instead, a heavy air—like the aftermath of something ending—hung over the entire town.
"...It's really quiet here."
Haruto muttered under his breath.
"Yeah. It's not exactly a tourist spot, and it's a weekday, so..."
Wen answered, but in his heart, he felt differently.
(It's not just that there are no tourists. The townspeople aren't outside at all.)
It was as if the entire town was holding its breath.
Before long, the sign for the Namima Inn came into view.
"Ah, isn't that it? Namima Inn!"
Mikoto pointed.
The Namima Inn was an old two-story building about a ten-minute walk from the station. A red paper lantern hung at the entrance.
"Welcome."
When they opened the door, a petite innkeeper with graying hair tied back in a single bun greeted them. Kubota Fumi. She looked to be in her mid-sixties. A warm smile rested on her deeply wrinkled face.
"Ah, we're the Mimori party! Four of us!"
Mikoto greeted her cheerfully.
"Ah, so it's you lot. You made it all this way. Come on in. I'll put some tea on."
Fumi led the four of them to the guest room.
The guest room was a six-tatami-mat space with tatami flooring. The sea was visible from the window. The sound of waves could be heard in the distance.
"You must be tired. This town has so few trains. It must have been rough."
Fumi poured tea into teacups, looking at each of their faces one by one.
"No, it was my first time on a local line, so I actually had fun!"
Mikoto beamed.
"I was playing games the whole time next to her, so I didn't get motion sick."
Haruto muttered.
"I was observing the shapes of the mountains from the window. The underground water from that mountain would surely be suitable for dashi."
Rena said with a serious expression.
"You kids are a riot."
Fumi laughed out loud.
Then, after a brief pause, she spoke quietly.
"...So you came because you heard about Shiofū Diner, didn't you."
Wen's back straightened.
"Yes. Fumi-san, you introduced us at the market."
"I see. ...That diner is in serious trouble right now."
Fumi wrapped both hands around her teacup and began speaking in a heavy tone.
"Shiofū Diner was this town's kitchen for a hundred years. Fishermen would stop by early in the morning, slurp down some ara-jiru, and head out to sea. Children would stop by after school and have snacks. Everyone in this town knows that diner's flavors in their bones."
Fumi's voice was quiet.
"But recently, a big chain restaurant opened up along the highway. The customers stopped coming entirely. Sana-chan is desperately trying to protect that shop all by herself."
"Sana-chan...?"
"Ah, the diner's poster girl. She's only seventeen, but she's so brave."
Fumi turned her gaze toward the window.
"And lately, a strange man has been coming and going in this town. A real estate broker named Masaki. His job seems to be buying up land cheap and flipping it somewhere else. Apparently he's been persistently pressuring Sana-chan's older brother, Taiga-kun, to sell the diner's land."
Wen's chest tightened.
(Masaki...)
The name Rena had mentioned at the market.
"What kind of person is this Masaki?"
Rena asked quietly.
"Who knows. On the surface, he's a soft-spoken, pleasant man. But I can't trust that man's eyes. He smiles, but his eyes aren't smiling at all."
Fumi set down her teacup.
"You kids be careful. Something is happening in this town right now. I have a very bad feeling about it."
Fumi's words sank into the room—quietly, but heavily.
Mikoto anxiously grabbed Wen's sleeve.
"...Wen."
Wen gently squeezed Mikoto's hand back.
(It's okay.)
That's what he wanted to convey.
But Wen's own heart was churning like a storm.
(The contents of that DM and Fumi-san's story match perfectly.)
(Masaki. The land. The diner's crisis.)
(This isn't a coincidence.)
Wen gripped the wooden spoon pendant around his neck tightly.
---
Shiofū Diner was a four-minute walk from Shiohama Station. It sat halfway up a small slope overlooking the fishing port.
An old wooden two-story building.
But even though it should have been open for business, the noren curtain wasn't hanging.
Cardboard boxes and packing tape were piled haphazardly in front of the shop.
"...What is this?"
Mikoto stopped in her tracks.
"It's closed...?"
Haruto tilted his head.
"...I sense something unpleasant."
Rena placed her hand on the knife roll at her hip.
Wen couldn't say anything.
(So this is Shiofū Diner...)
(The town's kitchen for a hundred years.)
(Then why—)
Wen reached for the sliding door.
*Rattle rattle rattle.*
The door slid open with a heavy sound.
Inside was dim.
The account books and the register were left as they were.
Chairs were stacked on top of tables.
The air was stagnant.
No sign of people for a long time.
(...The shop is dead.)
Wen held his breath.
"...Is anyone here?"
Mikoto fearfully looked around the interior.
That's when it happened.
"Oi, don't just walk in."
A low male voice came from the back.
Two men emerged from the back tatami room.
One was a young man in his early twenties.
Close-cropped hair. Sharp eyes. His mouth was set in a hard line.
Hamano Taiga.
Sana's older brother.
The other was a man in his mid-thirties wearing a suit.
Neatly groomed hair. Silver-rimmed glasses. A thin smile on his lips.
Masaki.
The real estate broker.
"Students, I take it. This place is no longer in business."
Masaki looked at Wen and the others as if sizing them up.
His eyes weren't smiling.
"What do you punks want? If you're customers, go somewhere else."
Taiga spat the words without even looking at their faces.
"We heard about this diner from Fumi-san. We came because we thought there might be something we could help with."
Wen stepped forward.
"Help? Students? Ha, don't make me laugh."
Taiga snorted.
"This shop is closing. The land's being sold too. There's nothing you people can do."
Taiga's words hit Wen like a punch to the chest.
"Closing...?"
"That's right. An old shop like this has no value left. A backwater town like this has no future."
Taiga declared.
At that moment, a small sound came from the back of the kitchen.
*Clink.*
"...Onii-san."
A frail voice.
A girl slowly emerged from the back of the kitchen.
A bob of dull black hair, tied in a small knot at the back. Her large, double-lidded black eyes reflected the color of the sea, trembling deeply.
Hamano Sana.
Shiofū Diner's poster girl.
She clutched an old recipe notebook tightly to her chest.
Her body was trembling faintly.
"...Onii-san, please. Don't close this shop."
Sana's voice was barely audible.
"Sana, this again? How many times do I have to tell you? This shop is finished."
Taiga said without even turning toward Sana.
"But... this is an important place that's been passed down since our great-grandfather..."
"So what! What value does an old shop have! No customers come. Sales are zero. How long do you plan to keep a shop like that running!"
Taiga raised his voice.
Sana flinched and hung her head.
She bit her lip hard.
"Now, now, Taiga-kun. Your sister just hasn't sorted out her feelings yet. Be a little gentler with her."
Masaki lightly patted Taiga's shoulder.
Then he turned back toward Wen and the others.
"You're students, right? I'll give you some friendly advice: forget about this town. Stick your noses in too deep and you'll get hurt."
Masaki smiled as he thrust a bundle of documents at Wen and the others.
"These are the final documents for the land sale. Taiga-kun will sign them. Once he does, this town will be reborn as a bigger, magnificent resort destination. The old diner is just a tiny, insignificant sacrifice for that."
Masaki's words were polite.
But each one dripped with cold contempt, looking down on the people of this town.
"Oi, you. What's with that way of talking?"
Haruto stepped forward.
"Oh? Is something the matter?"
Masaki looked at Haruto.
His eyes were like those of someone looking at an insect.
"You're not even from this town, so don't go saying whatever you want! If the diner disappears, what are the people of this town supposed to do!"
Haruto's voice was shaking.
"The people of this town? Ah, you mean this town where young people like you have all left? Don't worry. Once the resort is built, people will come back. It'll be a much richer town than before."
Masaki wore a creepy smile.
"Or are you saying this old diner is the future of this town? Don't make me laugh. Old flavors have no value whatsoever."
Taiga spat.
At those words, something inside Wen's chest snapped.
(Old flavors have no value...?)
(No. That can't be right.)
(Because this smell...)
Wen inhaled deeply—the smell of old soy sauce and dried sardines leaking from the kitchen.
(...It's the smell of Grandma's kitchen.)
Memories from his childhood vividly resurfaced in Wen's mind.
Summer vacation. His grandmother's house in the countryside.
His grandmother's back as she stood in the kitchen.
A pot bubbling and simmering.
The gentle aroma of soy sauce, dried sardines, and kelp mingling together.
"Hungry?"
His grandmother's face as she turned around and smiled.
(Ah...)
Wen's body moved on its own.
Before he knew it, he was standing in the kitchen.
Washing rice.
Draining the water.
Quickly forming rice balls.
"Wen!? What are you doing!?"
Mikoto's voice sounded distant.
But it didn't reach Wen's ears.
He just kept making rice balls, single-mindedly.
(I want to feed her.)
(I want to give her something warm.)
(Because she's been trembling all alone this whole time.)
Wen finished making two rice balls.
Then he held them out to Sana.
"...Here. Please eat."
Sana looked up, startled.
Her large black eyes stared at Wen.
"While it's still warm. You're hungry, right?"
Wen smiled gently.
Sana timidly accepted the rice ball.
Then she took a bit
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