Short Story: Jiro-Inspired Time Traveler

I have thoughts about ticket machines in ramen shops. While their purpose is likely to skip the need for staff to take orders and speed up customer turnover, I don't think that's all there is to it. For example, when you're at a popular shop with a line of people behind you, don't you ever feel a bit rushed and end up adding extra toppings you didn't really need?

This is a strange story that happened one afternoon at a popular ramen shop.

That day, I had come into the city center for a seminar. It's a neighborhood famous for its offices and bars under the train tracks. I usually just grab a convenience store bento or a sweet bun for lunch, but since I was out, I decided to treat myself. I had already scouted out a place I wanted to visit on Tabelog. That shop was 'Butasoba Araki,' located near the seminar venue.

Despite the name 'Butasoba' (Pork Soba), they don't serve Japanese buckwheat noodles; it's a shop for rich, Jiro-inspired ramen. Lately, there are many ramen shops that insist on calling their dishes 'soba'—like chicken soba or shrimp soba—and sometimes it really gets on my nerves, acting all pretentious.

Anyway, the lunch break for the seminar ended a little earlier than planned, at 11:30. Thanks to that, I was able to reach the ticket machine at Butasoba Araki without getting caught in the lunch rush, even though it was in the office district.

Regular ramen is 780 yen. Large is 880 yen. It's my policy to order the regular size on my first visit. I like to leave enough room to decide on a whim whether to add a half-portion of rice to the bowl and enjoy some porridge at the end.

However, this shop had a bit of a trap. It was the 'no extra charge for medium-sized ramen' deal. A medium ramen has 1.5 times the amount of noodles. I've often been misled by that sense of value, ordered the medium, and regretted it later. The reason is that the amount of noodles varies from shop to shop, making it impossible to predict. Sometimes, even a 'medium' can end up being more voluminous than a 'large' at a more refined establishment.

'I'll stick with the regular today. Eighty percent full. Once you're over thirty, there's no need to force yourself to gorge.'

I pulled a thousand-yen bill from my wallet and fed it into the machine. And just as I was about to reach for the button labeled 'Regular Butasoba,' my wrist was grabbed.

'That was a close call, good grief.'

'W-what are you doing! Don't cut in line!'

When I looked at the man who had grabbed my wrist, he had a familiar face. A face I see every day, a face I see in the mirror. Yes, in other words, it was me.

'A doppelganger? Or maybe some kind of copy robot?'

My heart was pounding, but strangely, I felt calm.

'It's simpler than that. I'm you from the future.'

For someone from the future, the future me didn't look aged at all; he looked almost exactly like my current face. In fact, he was wearing the exact same clothes I was wearing today.

'From the future? Is something bad going to happen to me? Like getting into a traffic accident? Did you come all this way to help me avoid it?'

'Yeah, I am you, and you are me. If you order the regular, you're going to be stuffed.'

'Huh? What?'

'This place, even the regular has 350 grams of noodles. That's a bit insane, right? There's a small ramen with 250 grams below the regular, so go with that. They even have a mini ramen for women, and even that has 150 grams, which is about the same volume as a regular at a decent shop!'

“You came all the way from the future just to tell me that?”

“Yeah, I ate too much and couldn't focus on the afternoon seminar at all. I even threw up a little in the bathroom. So listen, just get the small. A mini would be fine too!”

After slapping my shoulder with all his might, the me from the future walked out of the shop.

What should I do? If I ignore what he said and buy the 'regular' size here, will it create some kind of time paradox and disrupt the space-time continuum? I wondered, but I played it safe and went with the small ramen. I've eaten 300 grams at a Nagasaki Champon place before, so I should be fine.

When I handed my meal ticket to the clerk, I was asked about the amount of vegetables and garlic, but I couldn't ignore the kindness of the me who had come all the way from the future.

“Regular portion of vegetables. A little bit of garlic.”

※

I was able to attend the seminar with just the right amount of food in my stomach. I think. Just as the me from the future said, even the small was quite filling. If anything, a mini might have been better. I really think this recent trend of massive portions is out of control.

On my way home, I passed by Butasoba Araki and headed toward the station. Avoiding the main road, I was walking through a residential area when I saw a suspicious person in a children's park. It was early September, and even though it was still the height of the lingering summer heat, he was wearing a black suit, a top hat, and not only did he have a cane, he was even wearing a black cape. People say black is a safe color, but that's not true. He was standing out like crazy.

I had a bad feeling. I tried to walk past quickly without making eye contact, but my arm was hooked by the handle of his cane.

“Oh, so it really is you?”

I had a vague idea of what was coming, but I asked anyway.

“Yes, I am going to send you to the past now.”

“Whoa, seriously? Do I really have to go back and tell my past self the right amount of ramen to eat?”

The man in the black cape let out an overt sigh and sat down on the ground.

“You're so selfish. As long as you're fine, you don't care about your past self at all, do you?”

“No, no, is there some kind of space-time distortion if I don't? Like, will the future change, or will some forbidden gate open, or something like that?”

“It's not that dramatic. It's just that when someone gives you something, you usually give something back, right? You're not a Viking or Gian, are you?”

I'm aware of it myself, but I have surprisingly low resistance to being provoked. I get worked up over the slightest comment.

“Fine, I get it! I'll go! I'll go to the past!”

The figure in the black cloak used the tip of their cane to draw something like a magic circle on the ground. Then, they instructed me to stand in the center of it.

"By the way, is this free? It's free, right? You're not going to take a piece of my soul or my lifespan or anything, are you?"

As if completely ignoring my question, a green pillar of light rose up from the magic circle.

...The place I arrived at after moving through the magic circle was the same spot six hours earlier, and the black-cloaked figure was standing there too. The presentation was so understated that I felt zero sense of having time-traveled. I checked the time on my smartphone, and it was 11:30, so I was convinced. However, strangely enough, the emails and LINE messages I had received in the afternoon were still on my phone.

The past version of myself that I saw at the ramen shop was more surprised than I had expected. His reaction was like that of a background character; it was a bit lame. I had gone out of my way to tell him not to order the regular size, and he didn't even offer a word of thanks. I felt bothered by such a trivial thing.

Having accomplished my goal, I returned to the children's park and asked the black-cloaked figure.

"Um, are you really doing this for free? My soul and everything are still intact, right?"

"You're persistent, aren't you? It's free. They say there's no such thing as a free lunch, after all."

"Don't say things that make me anxious. Oh, wait, are you perhaps an intelligent life form far wiser than humans, finding human affairs amusing? If that's the case, then it makes sense..."

"It's nothing like that."

Saying that, the black-cloaked figure gave a sad, faint smile.

"Does one need a reason to help someone?"

While I was slightly annoyed by their smug expression, I didn't show it and had them send me back to my original time.

On my way back to the station, I met a brown stray cat. It was a friendly cat, and I was able to pet it. I felt like I was lucky. When I got home, my wife had prepared dinner. It was yakisoba. I thought, noodles for lunch and dinner again? But I didn't say anything about it.

"You have a gentle look on your face today. Did something good happen?"

It had probably been about five years since my wife had said something like that to me.

"Yeah, actually, something strange happened today."

I thought about telling her about the time travel, but I kept it to just the story about petting the stray cat.

Come to think of it, I suddenly wonder.

The future me who taught me, he said he had thrown up a little. I didn't say anything like that to my past self. That means he went out of his way to return to the past and tell me, even though there was no benefit to himself. He didn't do it out of a sense of duty, but simply out of goodwill.

Well, I guess I'm not such a bad guy after all.

I felt like I could start to like myself a little. It had been a long time since I'd felt this way since entering the workforce—not since my college days.

The End

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