Nishimura Nightbrewer
Coffee Pony
***
Today was a lazy day. A very lazy day.
Kintarō had nothing to do on this fine afternoon. His lord had declared a day off for all his major retainers, so most had dispersed to indulge in a day’s worth of fine food, alcohol, and women. Kintarо̄ didn’t like that stuff (nor approve of it, personally). He’d rather be at home with his wife, chatting with her or helping with umbrella-making. However…
“B-but… I’ll be alone! In this big city! How could you do this to your husband?” he cried. Matsuko rolled her eyes at his dramatics and slid the door open.
“I haven’t seen my parents for over a year. What kind of daughter does that make me? Huh?” she chided. Blowing a cheeky raspberry, she giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Love you. I’ll be back in a month,” she said.
He sighed, and sadly nodded. “Love you too. Please, be safe.”
She nodded, then left, closing the door behind her.
As such, he’d been left alone to spend the whole day by himself. He sighed, staring idly at his sword. A walk sounded nice. Perhaps an escape from the hustle and bustle of Edo city would do him some good.
Yes, just a nice, relaxing, idle walk.
He stepped out of his house. The main street was busy. Too busy. Colourful banners flew in the air, and smoke drifted from inns and hearths. Bare-backed men hauled sacks of rice and carts of lumber. People of all classes and clothes crowded around a very noisy news crier. The man waved here and there, dramatising the day’s specialities. Kintarо̄ continued on, uninterested in juicy talk.
“A miracle has appeared!” the news man shouted. People’s ears perked up, thirsty for more. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it, haven’t you?” the man teased deliciously. “Deformed horses have appeared out of nowhere!”
Kintarо̄ scoffed. The crowd chorused with oohs and aahs.
“Ah ah, but that’s not all! Not only are them demons cute, but they also… talk! And act like humans! Heh heh!”
The crowd burst into gasps and awes. Kintarо̄ turned to look at the man with a puzzled look, wondering if he’d drunk too much alcohol.
“They’re all over Japan! Cute, colourful demon horses! Hah!” the man yelled. “Some are just like horses, but smaller and stockier.” The man squared his shoulders and straightened his arms, trying to appear like a horse. The crowd laughed. He continued.
“Many have wings, like eagles and falcons!” The crowd oohed at that, as the man assumed a flying pose. “Others have a horn, like the kirin of old, and they perform supernatural acts with it like it’s nothing to them! Hah!”
The crowd went into a hysteria, asking for locations and information about these demon horses.
Kintarо̄ sighed. Another fad invented by those darn news men. Forget it, he needed a drink.
He walked further and further from the city centre, and found a quiet and rather sleepy artisan district. From the signs and banners flying around, Kintarо̄ deduced that the residents specialised in home commodities. The shops he passed by confirmed that. Wax candles, paper, brushes, scrubs – he spotted a broom that Matsuko would definitely love – and everything else. Eh, they weren’t too essential in a samurai’s life.
Ok, maybe the broom and scrub was, but… anyway.
At least, aside from the workers and customers’ talking, it wasn’t as noisy as the city centre. It made for a rather pleasant background filler.
As he walked, he spotted a sign up ahead saying, “Nishimura-ya. Kahii.” He furrowed his brow. Kahii? What on earth was that?
“Sorry, excuse me, samurai-sama,” called a voice. Kintarо̄ turned and moved aside for an old farmer to pass by. He muttered to himself about demon horses and horns.
“Ah, you must’ve heard about those demon horses, old man,” commented Kintarо̄. The farmer giggled with a toothless mouth. “Hehe, so have I! Those darn criers, never know how to stop babbling!”
Kintarо̄ smiled. “I see we share the same belief.” The old man nodded, humming to himself. Ah, that reminded Kintarо̄ of one thing.
“Oi, old man. What is this Nishimura-ya up ahead? And what is this… ‘kahii’ they sell?”
The old man looked up, and then back at him, shaking his head. “Never heard of it, sorry. But hey” – he pointed to a drawing of a teacup embossed on the sign – “the place seems to have drinks.”
Kintarо̄ looked up. Heh, the shop was quiet, and the only noise buzzing around came from the workers. He shrugged, and then continued on.
“I did come to look for a drink. Why don’t you join me, old man?” he offered. The farmer’s eyes widened, and he quickly bowed a little. “S-sure, I’m most honoured, samurai-san! Hehe!”
The two men walked up to the shop. It was like any other shop in Edo, except that it was eerily quiet when the duo entered.
A bar table and some stools sat on their right. On their left was a wooden counter, and plaques hung from above detailing some menu. But something else drew their gaze, and they fixed sights on the strange, other-worldly contraption sitting on the counter.
It had a large metal pot sitting above a little stove, which was alive with a small fire. Steam whistled out of a funny-looking pipe facing upwards, while below the pot was a small… dish? Kintaro nor the farmer had never seen such a thing before. Whatever it was, it thinned at the bottom into a very small pipe. They looked around and found cups and plates and barrels of sugar inside the counter, but their eyes strayed back to the weird-looking thing.
“It looks like a beast pouncing,” the old farmer commented grimly. “It looks… scary,” added Kintarо̄. He touched the pot, but yelled and immediately drew back.
“It’s hot! Ahh, it hurts,” he groaned, massaging it with his sleeve. The old man whimpered.
“What kind of drinks do they sell? And why is nobody here? Ee, scary!”
Clop-clop, clop-clop.
Kintarо̄ and the farmer snapped towards the sound. A horse. They looked at each other, then scanned the empty shop for the source.
Clop-clop. Clop-clop.
It was coming from the stairs. It was directly opposite them. Kintarо̄ slowly and quietly laid a trembling hand on his sword, ready to pull it out if needed. The old farmer took cover behind, shivering with fear.
“Y-y-you don’t t-t-think it’s t-t-those… demon horses, ee?”
“Sshhh, no, I don’t think so. Weird though,” he whispered, focusing on the stairs. “Any horse should be at the riding grounds. Or the shogun’s stables.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Perhaps it’s been stolen, and the thief is hiding here,” he concluded. He slowly drew out his sword, the metal singing beautifully as he pulled it. “Stay here, old man. If anything happens up there, run. Ok?”
The farmer nodded. Kintarо̄ took a deep breath and moved towards the stairs, sneaking up inch by inch on his soft socks. He was reaching the upstairs landing. A voice muttered to itself. Kintaro couldn’t recognize what he was saying. A foreigner? Oh, this was going to become very interesting…
“Sheesh, when will these humans ever discover the joy of coff–”
“Stop right there, thief!” yelled Kintarо̄.
“AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” yelled a small horse.
“AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” yelled Kintarо̄ , falling flat on his buttocks. The horse itself had fallen onto its flanks, mouth wide open in a scream.
“D-d-don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt meee!!!” he cried.
“Y-y-you… Y-y-you!” Kintarо̄ pointed a shaky finger. The horse gulped and scooted backwards.
“Y-y-you must be one of those… d-d-demon horses!” Kintaro screamed, struck with realisation.
“I’m not a demon! And I’m not a horse! I’m a pony! Argh!” yelled the pony, infuriated at the human. Kintarо̄ was shaking and trembling, and his sword lay forgotten beside him. He stared at the deformed horse, unable to believe his mortal eyes. It had the body of a horse, sure, but it was much smaller and in wrong proportions. Its muzzle was too short, its coat a bit too colourful, and never – never in all the earth, Kintarо̄ was dead-sure – did a horse possess a strange mark branded onto its flanks.
Unless it was a… criminal?
“Y-y-you,” began Kintarо̄ , still shaking. “Y-y-you… are you some sort of… criminal? Huh?”
The hor– pony gave him an angry glare. How did it do that?
“I’m not a crimi– Hey! What’s gotten into you? Where on earth did I ever commit a crime, human?” scolded the pony.
“B-b-because you have a mark on your… I dunno know what to call that. Flank? Backside?”
The pony glanced at said body part and groaned. “No, no, no, no. Wrong! That mark is my special talent! We call it a cutie mark, ok?”
“Cutie... mark..?” Kintarо̄ stammered, confused by this strange term. “What… er, no, actually, how do I even understand you, horse-pony?” he screamed, shocked that he was communicating with a deformed-horse-demon. The pony groaned.
“Because I can talk, and can speak your human language!” he riposted, slowly lifting himself off the ground. He trotted closer. Kintarо̄ shrieked and scooted backwards.
“Hey, hey, hey, watch out! You’re gonna f–” the pony warned. But it was too late. Kintarо̄ fell and rolled down the stairs, crashing into the floor below in a flurry of dust and pain. The old farmer below shrieked and ran outside.
***
“W-what… what are you, really?” muttered Kintarо̄, pressing the cold towel against his black-blued forehead. He winced in pain, and he gave a glance around to make sure he wasn’t dead.
“I’m a pony,” the pony answered flatly.
“But you barely look like one,” the samurai countered. The pony slid a cup of water to him. “Oh, uh, thank you,” he mumbled.
The pony sighed. “You’re welcome. I understand that we… look different. But that doesn’t make us demons, or anything like that for that matter. We have names, you know, just like you humans do. Mine,” – he paused and put a hoof to his chest – “My native name is Ancient Scent.”
“Native name?” wondered Kintarо̄, puzzled. They had their own way of naming themselves, huh?
“Yes, we have our own names. But,” - he cleared his throat - “we take on a second, more human-ish name, in order to fit in a little more. I call myself Nishimura Nightbrewer.”
“Nishimura Nightbrewer…” mumbled Kintarо̄. He pursed his lips; still weird, but closer to what his neighbour might’ve named his child.
“I see then. Well, pony Nightbrewer, I, Kintarо̄, humbly apologise for calling you that.”
“You’re forgiven, Kintarо̄. No worries,” the pony smiled.
I must warn, though” – he sipped the water – “the news crier has been calling… you with that name.”
To his slight surprise, the pon– Nightbrewer giggled and shrugged it off. “Eh, our kind got the same reaction from your warriors of old.” Kintarо̄’s eyes widened to saucers.
“A-are you saying–”
“Yes, we’ve been here for a long time. A very, very long time. We just…” – he rubbed his hoofs together – “We don’t really venture out much. Most of us live deep in the mountains. And we just keep to ourselves in general. And nopo– sorry, nobody really bothers with us.”
“Huh, i-it must mean that you’ve hidden yourselves very well. Ouch,” Kintarо̄ commented, wincing when he pressed his head too hard.
“Oh yeah, uh, all the war drove us into hiding. It wasn’t, er, pretty to see… blood. Lots of it. And limbs. Ugh,” shivered the pony. For a brief moment, Kintarо̄ saw sadness engulf the creature’s eyes. He wondered if they’d been deeply scarred by the war.
Well, he wasn’t really born during that time, but he’d read some texts and heard some tales…
Why did he even come here again?
“What… what is this shop? A-and, and what is this?” Kintarо̄ pointed to the metal beast-looking thingy. “It burnt me when I touched it. Is it… is it also living?”
Nightbrewer laughed. Kintarо̄ raised a disapproving eyebrow, because it sounded like one laughing at a stupid person. And Kintarо̄ definitely never thought of himself as stupid.
“No, it’s not a living thing. This” – the pony walked over to it and patted it – “this is a coffee maker. It boils water to make the coffee.”
The samurai gave a puzzled look. “Co…ffee?”
The pony gave him a look. “You’ve never heard of coffee? Kahii, like you all pronounce it?”
Kintarо̄ shook his head. Kahii. Must be some foreign drink. “No, I’ve never heard of such a strange drink such as kahii. Or… cof–fee, if that’s how you say it.”
“It’s a black and bitter drink. Very good. Gives you energy to work!” Nightbrewer claimed excitedly.
“Where did you get this… kahii from?”
“Eh, those black ships all the way down at Dejima? The pale-faced foreigners, with the bizarre clothing?” said Nightbrewer. Kintarо̄ nodded; those foreigners had been here for quite some time. They brought some rather exotic objects from their western land, and sold them exotic food.
“Yeah, they sell me this coffee,“ finished the pony. Kintarо̄ nodded.
“Give me this… kahii, please. How much for one?”
Nightbrewer began preparing. “Eh, about 20 copper.”
Coins clinked on the counter, and the pony began to work. Kintarо̄ observed the process with eagle eyes. First, the pony took a cup – a standard teacup, just like any other – and put it underneath the metal pot. It sat directly beneath the funny-looking dish. Next, the pony took out a paper bag and poured some… black substance into the dish.
Kintarо̄ blinked as a strong, nutty, and woody aroma assaulted his nose. Never had he ever smelt such an aroma in all his life. It triggered memories of running through pine-covered forests as a child, playing tag with his friends in the mud, or the sweet taste of dew after an evening shower. He cracked a short smile.
“Here you go, samurai-sama,” said the pony. Kintaro leaned down and sucked in the lovely smell.
“This is kahii?” he asked. Nightbrewer nodded, before adding, “Oh, uh, take this.” He slid a small bowl of brown sugar towards the samurai. “Why do I need sugar?” asked Kintarо̄, a little annoyed.
“Eh, it is rather bitter. I’d rather you add some before you drink it,” advised the pony. “No, I want to try it like this. This is its most pure form, is it not?” commented the samurai.
Nightbrewer sighed. “Eh, if you say so…”
Taking a deep breath, Kintarо̄ lifted the cup to his lips and drank.
He immediately spat it out.
“Ah, what an illusion! It smells very lovely, but the taste is terribly bitter. Ugh,” groaned Kintarо̄ . Nightbrewer giggled, but it wasn’t one of mockery or derision. It was just a simple, friendly laugh.
“I told you! Here,” he tipped the bowl and poured some sugar in. Then he took a small chopstick and stirred the black liquid.
“Now, drink and see.”
Kintarо̄ did so, though he took a much smaller sip. It tasted slightly better, though the bitterness still remained. He put down the cup and sighed.
“I don’t like it.”
The pony shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll have to find a human that does, then.” He chuckled.
Kintarо̄ smirked. “Why are you always… happy? Is it some trait of creatures like you?”
Nightbrewer nodded. “Yes. It is a natural part of us, no matter how tough the times are.”
“Is it something your ancestors passed down to you?”
“Oh, yes, indeed.”
The samurai nodded, intrigued. “You should go out more. The land will definitely benefit from creatures like you.” The pony grinned, a little abashed.
Just then, footsteps and shouts roared outside. Kintarо̄ and Nightbrewer turned to the entrance, which was partially blocked by a curtain. They couldn’t see anyone, but they could hear. It sounded like trouble…
“I-in there! The thief was in there!” cried a raspy old voice that belonged to an old man.
The farmer. Oh, thought the samurai. I told him to run in case anything happens...
Grabbing his sword, he turned to Nightbrewer.
“You have a business licence, right?” he urged. Nightbrewer stared at him, befuddled. “What’s a licence?” he inquired innocently.
Kintarо̄ slapped his forehead. He’d have a whole lot to explain to law enforcement. He glared at Nightbrewer.
“Treat me to lunch after this, coffee pony.”
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IMMEDIATE FOLLOW, FAVOURITE, BOOKMARK, AND THUMBS-UP! I have waited so-long for A Japonic FiMFic. THANK YOU!!!
11478788
Thank you! Glad to find others who love pones and Japan.
More will come. Edo's too big for one measly one-shot.
Coffee in Japanese is コーヒー. Kōhī. Not kahii. And a farmer or tradesperson in the Edo period would use -sama to speak to a samurai, not -san.
11479085
How could I have forgotten this?
In modern Japanese, yes, kōhī is correct. However, I understand that loanwords in the Edo period were spelt differently. The earliest word I found for coffee was from 1888, a shop named Kahiichakan. Hence, I went with kahii instead of the modern kōhī.
*Alondro takes a cup of coffee... and sloowwwwwwwly pours it into a cup of green tea... then he drinks it, to the horror of all*
11479517
*screams in samurai*
11479562 It really is a horrible combination. I've tried it.
11478819
I would Love to see older Jidai of Japan, too. Having some fusion or merging between the dimensions during the Sengoku War Period coukd have very interesting results. If you don't dig dark or tragic fics. , than the Ponies could stop the war and teach the Japanese to live in Peace and Wa again, like ancient times.
Haven't read it yet. Just skimmed the intro, misread it as a terrible pun and thought it said
A samurai who moves aside for a commoner? He must be incredibly humble! I am surprised the commoner even asked...
Next, wouldn't "demon" be a translation of kami, and thus not necessarily a bad thing? Or at least not always a bad thing regardless? Or is it only in Chinese mythology that the Celestial Bureaucracy includes Oni?
Also, I see both -sama and -san still in the text.
Still, a fav and up vote for a decent slice-of-life story. And perhaps it is I who am mistaken on some of these points?
11770267
Kami itself just means "spirit." But it mainly refers to the Shinto gods. Anything can also be a kami, though– there's a kami for the toilet, for example. Oni, however, are a class of demons and malevolent beings. The Japanese only really borrowed from Chinese philosophy and religion in terms of Buddhism.