《TRASH》
Chapter One: It鈥檚 on Like Donkey Kong!
Part I: (The Geek)
Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.
-Albert Einstein
Chapter One: Its on Like Donkey Kong!
June 23, 2010
The truck didnt even slow down. Trash reached out to keep his balance after he jumped to avoid the delivery truck that had narrowly missed hitting him. It had come so close he could feel the tire vibration through his sneakers. Unfortunately, all he could grasp was one of the handlebars of an old bicycle propped up against a signpole. He crashed to the ground on his ass, pulling the bike down on top of him. Cursing inwardly but unharmed, he quickly got up to his feet and returned the bicycle back to its place against the pole, checking around to see if his fall had been noticed.
Fortunately, few people were around this area during the late morning, and no one was looking at him. Trash checked the road, and the truck was already gone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heartbeat.
He couldnt blame the driver, he thought to himself. It was his own fault for stepping into the street like that. Then he looked up at the small sign propping up the bicycle.
[Watch for Pedestrians]
He smiled grimly. He supposed he could blame the driver after all, at least partially. Dusting off his pants and rubbing his hands, Trash checked himself. Nothing was torn, and fortunately, his backpack hadnt hit the ground. Nothing should be damaged. As he thought about the contents of his bag, the adrenaline rush cleared from his head, and he remembered why he had been rushing down the street in the first place.
He was late. Shit!
With a bit more caution, Trash started running down the sidewalk. He had to dance around several signboards that littered the sidewalk in his path. Although no one had paid attention to his near miss with the truck, he could now feel disapproving glares as he ran past the shops and offices. This is why he hated going out during the day. Only normies were out this early.
Arriving at his destination, Trash pulled out his phone. 11:46. No messages. He was late, but not egregiously so. He tried to tidy himself up after his unexpectedly athletic commute. Pulling out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he mopped the sweat from his face while cursing the summer Tokyo humidity. It wasnt even July, and already the city was starting to turn into a sauna.
The shades were drawn on the shop next to the restaurant, and he could somewhat see his reflection in the glass. He took the unusual step of checking his appearance.
Trash had actually grabbed his best, cleanest clothes for this meeting. To be honest, that didnt leave him with many options. That said, even he had to admit it was a somewhat weak showing for a business meeting. His hair was the usual unruly mop. He was due for his quarterly trip to QB House soon. He wore a green Uniqlo AIRism t-shirt, one of the few he had without anime characters on the front. Covering it, he had on his prized MS-09 Dom jacket, Purple with a black hood and red piping. If he was going to be dispatched to another world by a random traffic accident, at least he wanted to take this jacket with him. Luckily, it hadnt been scuffed by his fall earlier. It was irreplaceable.
His jeans were old and fraying at the cuffs. It was hard for him to find pants that fit, ironic considering his line of work. Trash was an expert at obtaining things. IRL or online, if there was a rare video game or piece of anime memorabilia, Trash could find it. But jeans that fit a 180cm tall build with a 42 waist in Japan were practically impossible. He had to order his pants from the US, and that cost more than he was willing to spend on a wardrobe no one cared about anyway. Considering the meeting today, however, he regretted going so long without replacing his aging clothes. Especially when he was about to enter an establishment like the one he was currently standing in front of.
Accepting that this was as presentable as he was going to get, Trash looked at the corner shop in front of him. Large glass windows let him peer into a small but fancy, trendy restaurant with expensive and delicate-looking furniture. A signboard was propped up by the doorway with the restaurants name at the top.
~ Capricieux ~
A hand-drawn menu was written out in chalk below the name. As it was all in French, Trash had no idea what most of the items were, but he was relieved to find the one item he was looking for near the top.
Steak aux lgumes de saison
Everything was so pretentious, from the name to the decor to the hand-drawn menu in a foreign language. This place was an aberration, almost an insult to the real estate it occupied. It belonged over in Ochanomizu, or Kagurazaka, or even Ginza. Not in the geek capital of Japan, Akihabara.
He pushed open the door and felt the cool blast of air-conditioned wind rush over his sweat-covered body. Wiping his face and hands again, he shoved the wet fabric back into a pocket on the side of his backpack.
He quickly scanned the room. It was still early, and there were no tables occupied yet. That would change soon when the lunch crowd arrived, but for the first time since he woke up, he felt like he was lucky. He wasnt late for the meeting after all.
Then, he had another thought. What if that guy couldnt find this place? It was a bit far from the station. Would he have taken a taxi? How could Trash reach him if he got lost? Maybe he should have just gone to the hotel to meet there? He didnt have a phone. This whole thing was a mistake. Why did he ever agree to this meeting?
As he stood there, a tall man approached him from the back of the restaurant. Trash recognized him. A tall guy, almost as tall as himself, but thin, with a neat goatee beard and perfectly styled hair. His face was a perfect mask of professionalism, but Trash knew behind those kind eyes was a harsh glare of judgment; that polite smile carried a hidden snarl of disgust.
Welcome! Are you here for lunch?The waiter spoke Japanese at least.
Yyes. Im meeting someone.
Trashs mood continued to darken. Why this place? Why did he have to suggest this place?
The man smiled, then turned his head to point his chin towards the windows along the side of the restaurant. Trash followed the movement and finally noticed a figure sitting at a small table in the back. It was a blond man in a dark brown blazer with his back to the door.
Trash bowed slightly to the waiter, then moved as carefully as possible through the maze of delicate-looking tables and chairs. He removed his backpack and held it in his arms to avoid bumping or breaking anything as he navigated to the far corner where the foreign man was sitting.
Lancelet?
The man turned to look up.
Trash? Is that you? The man looked at him appraisingly.
Trash smiled back weakly, nodding.
He stepped around to the other side of the table and sat down opposite the man, placing his bag on the floor. Within moments, the waiter returned and placed two glasses of ice water with lemon slices at the bottom of each cup. Then, he retrieved a large basket from the back of the restaurant. Placing it on top of one of the empty chairs, he picked up Trashs backpack and gently placed it inside the basket.
What would you like to order? He asked.
Steak lunch. Medium well, Ice coffee after the meal. Trash blurted out his order in a quick, efficient manner.
That time, he definitely caught the smirk on the waiters face flash for a second. Then he turned to the foreign man.
Vous avez-vous fait votre choix?
Quest-ce que vous recommandez?
Je vous suggrer notre spcialit du jour, la sriole royale grille avec des lgumes de saison.
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?a a lair dlicieux. Je vais prendre ?a, sil vous pla?t.
Trs bien, monsieur. Et comme boisson? Nous prenons du caf, du th ou du vin.
Le vin, sil vous pla?t.
Excellent. Japporte votre repas rapidement.
Merci.
Trash was even more annoyed after that display. At least there were no other customers yet to witness that exchange.
The blond man seemed to notice Trashs discomfort.
My French is rubbish, but the owner here apparently studied culinary in Paris, and we were chatting a bit after I came in.
Trash was surprised. He had thought that jerk was just the waiter. He hadnt realized that it was the owner. How long had he been here? Trash was only about ten minutes late. He quickly checked his phone. Make that twenty minutes.
Im sorry I was late. I had a little accident on the way, he embellished. Actually, he had just overslept.
Oh, are you okay?
Trash nodded.
Anyway, Its great to get to meet the famous Trash finally! The man said with a giant smile, extending his hand over the table.
Trash wiped the sweat off his palm on his jeans before reaching out and shaking his hand.
Its nice to meet you, Lancelet. After so many chats, he spoke slowly and cautiously. Trash rarely ever spoke English out loud, preferring email and Twitter. He didnt like speaking Japanese out loud that much, either. Text was easier and less embarrassing.
Its great to speak English again! Ive been here two days already, and most people wont say a word to me. I was starting to feel lonely.
That sounded like a lie. Trash looked at the man seated in front of him. It was hard to gauge Westerners by appearance, but he figured the man to be in his thirties. He was handsome, like a Hollywood actor. Nice straight teeth, styled blond hair, fit build. He wore a black turtleneck shirt under the jacket like Steve Jobs. Well, that made sense. Trash was sure there were tons of girls who would happily approach him down in Roppongi or Shibuya.
He was not at all what Trash had imagined based on their correspondence online. He thought Lancelet was a comrade, not a shitty normie.
Oh! I brought something for you, Lancelet reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic object in a cellophane wrapper.
Thank you, Lancelet. You didnt need to, Trash replied while taking the item with both hands.
Nonsense! I read online that its considered good manners in Japan. Besides, its not much. Just something I got at SXSW thats been sitting in my suitcase for weeks.
He took a look at the small object. It was a white plastic disk, about seven centimeters across. In the center was a picture of a garbage can. The big round metal ones they have on American TV. There was a large red circle around the trash can and a red diagonal slash cutting through the center. Inside the wrapper was a small slip of paper with a picture of a slice of pizza on it.
Pretty cool, huh? It means no trash. I got it at a private party for some new data recovery startup. Get it? They undelete your trash, Lancelet giggled with a very unattractive laugh. Maybe this was the American geek that Trash was expecting after all.
Its actually a USB key. They usually fill those up with software demos and pitch commercials, but with SXSW, you never know. Maybe they loaded it up with porn. Wouldnt be the first time, he laughed with that horrible sound again. It was like a cat coughing up a hairball. That movie star image was permanently destroyed.
Thank you, Lancelet. It was very thoughtful of you.
Hey! Youre my Japan fixer comrade. Call me Danny! He insisted.
Trash caught a glint in the mans eye as he said that. This was a trap, but he wouldnt fall for it.
I see. Danny. Thank you, Danny.
Not knowing what to do with the strange toy-like object, he stuck it in the small hidden pocket inside his jacket. The pocket was too small for a phone, so half the time, Trash forgot it was there.
A few seconds passed in silence as they smiled politely at each other.
Damn. I was hoping that would work.
Not a chance, Trash replied with a grin. He was finally getting his feet under him in this exchange.
Thankfully, the owner returned with their lunches. Trash was already drooling. The reason he had chosen this particular location for their meeting was that this restaurant served the best steak lunch in Akihabara. This was a well-guarded secret that Trash had only recently learned, thanks to his friend Pazu.
For a person who practically survived on instant noodles and Yoshinoya beef bowls, an authentic, properly cooked meal was less common than a trip to the coin laundry. Of course, Pazu fed him whenever he went over to his place, but he tried to limit his freeloading at his best friends place of business.
Pazu had brought him here once to celebrate the launching of his website, the one that Trash had spent weeks setting up. Ever since then, he had dreams about the steak they served here. He rarely could afford to visit, but when he could, he would tolerate the typical normie clientele of rich old ladies and well-dressed office workers to order the phantom steak lunch set.
Now, thanks to Lancelet Danny, he was going to get to eat this rare treat. That alone was worth dragging him out for a customer meeting. Especially considering how things had been going lately. This might be his last chance to enjoy it.
Five minutes later, Trash leaned back in his chair. He looked up and realized that Danny was smiling at him. The plate in front of Danny had a few bites of fish missing, but Trashs plate was squeegeed clean.
Man, you inhaled that steak! Danny said, followed by a mercifully short laugh. Trash noticed that a few more customers had come into the restaurant as the lunch hour had started. He could feel the eyes drawn to their table by the disharmonious noise.
You want another?
Trash felt a strange sensation as his mind and body split entirely in purpose and intention. The result was an odd shaking of his head and a garbled grunt of noise from his throat.
With a big smile, Danny raised his hand to get the owners attention. He pointed to Trashs empty plate.
Encore un steak, sil vous pla?t.
Before Trash could object, the owner nodded and was gone. As he turned, Trash could catch that annoying smirk on the mans lips.
Its okay, really. You shouldnt, Trash protested weakly.
Dont be silly. You are not just my fixer but my precious Japanese friend. Besides, its the least I can do considering what I asked for your help with.
That was it. The sign that it was time to start talking about business. After all, this was not just some tourist here to visit the temples and eat sushi at the fish market. Trash nodded and reached for the backpack.
Wait, lets just enjoy the food. We can talk business over coffee.
Trash nodded again and sat back in his chair.
It was several months prior that Lancelet had asked Trash for help brokering a new kind of deal. Something that he was well positioned to accomplish but inexperienced in the process. It was a task that could get him in serious trouble if he made a mistake, but the reward offered was exactly what he needed.
Trash knew that he was small-time. He mainly dealt with small, rare items for special collectors. Hard to find video games were his specialty. He called himself a kusoge-hunter. A branch of video games that were so bad that publishers actively collected them back to remove the embarrassment of having made them in the first place. They were called shitty-games because they were sometimes so bad they were unplayable and could get so rare that collectors would pay a high price to get them despite their flaws. That was how he met Lancelet in the first place.
Using his one marketable skill, English, Trash perused global forums and auction sites, looking for customers trying to buy rare Japanese games. Thats where Lancelet had been searching for one of the Holy Grails, the MacDonalds staff trainer for Nintendo DS. Why he wanted it, Trash had no idea. It was a worthless piece of garbage.
It was well known in the game collector community that only a few copies of the staff trainer still existed. It was a special offering that the fast food giant had commissioned, thinking they could use video games to train new employees faster and cheaper. It obviously failed. Most of the cartridges were collected by the corporate HQ and either shoved in a box in the basement or outright destroyed.
At last count, the number of verified carts in circulation could be counted on one hand. Not only had Trash managed to track one down, but he also got the unique code needed to activate the software. This feat not only earned him a fair amount of clout in the hunter community but also gained him a loyal customer who paid an impressive commission.
Since then, Lancelet would send him other jobs, looking for everything from parts for Pachinko gambling machines to custom-made Dojin-soft games that were only sold at fan conventions on hand-burned CD-ROMs. Lancelet would give Trash some of his most interesting jobs, and they had exchanged Twitter DMs often, not always for commissions.
Then Lancelet asked if he could help broker a deal with another Japanese person. This time, rather than the tens of thousands of yen their past deals had involved, they would be talking about tens of thousands of dollars.
At first, Trash was inclined to refuse. It sounded too shady, especially with those numbers. Lancelet was talking about millions of yen on a single deal. That was more than Trash made in a year. Even if his commission would get him out of his problems in one fell swoop.
Then he found out what the deal involved.
After they had finished eating, the owner brought out two cups of coffee. One iced for Trash and the other a caf au lait for Danny. Danny had also had wine with his lunch, and the set usually only came with one drink, but the owner added the extra coffee and some gelato desserts on the house.
Trash thought it was reasonable, considering the looks that Danny was getting from some of the younger female clientele. They would probably be back in numbers, hoping to spy the handsome foreigner again. Too bad he would be heading back to America in a couple of days.
After the owner left, Trash reached again for his backpack. This time, Danny didnt say anything. He opened the bag and dug deep inside until he found two unmarked white cardboard boxes. He placed both boxes before Danny and sat back down without a word.
Both boxes were the same size, about the size of a thick A5 size book. Trash was very familiar with these boxes as they were commonly used to ship electronics. Everything from computer components to rare video games could be found in these ubiquitous treasure boxes.
Danny took one of the boxes and slid out the flap on one side, then opened up the box to examine the contents.
Now that is what I am talking about! He exclaimed, loudly enough that half the heads in the restaurant swiveled to look at their table.
Shit! Sorry, Danny said, again drawing even more attention to them. Trash just sunk into his chair and tried to disappear.
Still grinning, Danny looked back into the box.
You are the man, Trash. You came through.
Yes. About that, Trash said quietly, looking down at the table.
Danny looked up, worry starting to cross his brow.
There was a little bit of a complication when I went to pick up the product.
Danny slowly closed the lid of the box. His easy-going smile gone. He stared at Trash in the face with a harsh look that chilled Trash more than the air conditioning had.
What kind of complication?
Chapter Two: Don鈥檛 Wish it Were Easier, Wish You Were Better.
Chapter Two: Dont Wish it Were Easier, Wish You Were Better.
Trash took a deep breath. He had been rehearsing this part since the night before.
Its not a big deal. Its just that Sakamoto Ryo, Ryo wants to adjust the deal. Nothing big, he doesnt want more money or anything like that.
Then what does he want? Dannys voice had grown cold and sharp.
Sweat was dripping down Trashs neck. He had begged Sakamoto not to do this. The man simply would not budge. He hoped that somehow, giving Lancelet a look at the hardware would somehow prevent the entire deal from sinking.
He wants the payment
Spit it out! Danny growled, raising his voice enough that a few heads turned in their direction again.
He wants the money in cash.
Fuck!
More heads turned. Trash squeezed lower into his chair and stared into the cup holding sugar syrup for the coffee. He heard a slight creak from his chair, warning him not to push into it much harder, or its integrity might fail. Cafe furniture was usually not prepared for people his size and weight, and it wouldnt be the first time he had broken a chair.
I told you before that he wasnt keen on the Singapore account. I explained to Ryo how difficult it would be to get payment in cash. I thought he understood. I told him, you are not a local and cant transfer so much money easily-
Easily? Try fuckinpossible! There are laws against bringing in cash, not that I could even arrange it now that I am here. What the hell?! How is this supposed to work?
He said its too inconvenient to use the Singapore account. Hes worried someone might track the money transfers.
He could have fucking mentioned that before I got on the Goddamned, fucking plane Trash.
Trash felt his adrenaline surge as the vulgar language spilled out of the mans mouth. He had learned how to trash talk on the internet, of course, but this was the first time he had ever heard a real person talking like this. It wasnt just a character in a western movie. Part of him found it exciting, but the rest of him was terrified by the impact of the harsh words directed at him.
Youre gonna fix this Trash, Cash? Thats fucking impossible. Theres no way to get that much cash into Japan without getting the IRS, Interpol, and God knows who else riding up my ass. I brought you into this deal to make sure this kind of shit didnt happen. Now this whole fucking trip is turning out to be a waste of my time.
This was not going well at all. Trash could feel his commission slipping away, and he could not afford to let that happen.
Wait be calm, please. Just a minute. I can try to fix this. Just give me time. I will talk to Ryo again tonight. But is there anything you can do? He doesnt like the Singapore thing. He wants the money here, Trash spoke quickly, desperation in his voice.
What the fuck do you expect me to do? Im here now. Its not like theres a Chase Manhattan branch in downtown Tokyo I can walk into.
Danny stopped for a second to reflect.
Wait, is there?
Then, after a second, he shook his head.
Nevermind. Doesnt matter. I cant shift the money here without someone noticing. Money laundering checks and shit. I dont have a company or partner in Japan, so theres no way I can get that kind of money here. Not on my timeline.
Trash sank even lower as he watched his commission evaporate before his eyes. At the rate things were going, he just hoped that Danny would still pick up the bill for lunch. He knew the offer of easy money was too good to be true.
Danny stared at the boxes in front of him, grinding his teeth. Then he let out a deep breath.
Well, might as well take a look at the goods. If its not up to snuff, I can just write off the whole thing.
Trash felt like he had swallowed a large rock. His fear from a moment ago had turned into despair. This was his only chance. He was out of money, out of time, and out of options.
Danny, on the other hand, had flipped back into the friendly foreigner persona. As quickly as his anger had engulfed him, it had disappeared, like a cloud that momentarily blocked out the sun. He reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a small black box.
Opening the box, he took out a small white object and a pair of earbud-style earphones. Danny examined the white device first. It was small and relatively light, about the size and shape of a Milano cookie, maybe a bit thicker. It had a headphone jack on one end and a USB mini plug on the other, probably for charging and updating the software. On the front was a small LCD screen and a few buttons, and on the back was a plastic belt-style clip.
There was also a security sticker applied across the clip, the kind that left an ugly residue when removed. A warning written in both English and Japanese.
[CONFIDENTIAL: Property of HANSA ELECTRONICS]
The sticker brought back a smile to Dannys face. Without a word, he started to manipulate the objects, plugging in the headphones and trying to power on the device.
Trash resisted the urge to reach out and assist the other man. He was just a courier at this point, although he had tried out the device the day before with Ryo. He wasnt here to give instructions on how to use it, nor was he there to protect it from misuse or damage. With the fleeting prospect of getting paid for this job, Trash was tempted to just leave, but a combination of fear, anxiety, coupled with the small hope of salvaging the deal kept him in his chair.
Danny quickly had the device turned on and working. The headphones had appeared normal at first, but upon a closer look, they were a bit strange.
Typical earbuds had a long cable for connecting to a phone or music player via a 3.5mm plug on one side. The other end was split into two shorter wires ending with the small in-ear speakers. Usually, one was longer than the other so that one of the cables could wrap around behind your neck while wearing them.
These earbuds split right at the plug. Instead of a long cable that split halfway, there were just two, nearly two meter-long, wires with an earbud at the end of each wire. Danny placed one into each ear and then started to push the buttons on the device while squinting at the tiny display.
After a minute of fiddling with the device, Danny looked at Trash with a big grin. He placed the white object on the table between them, then spoke again, slowly and clearly, like an English conversation teacher.
Good afternoon, Trash.
Then he paused. He furrowed his brow and, with a slightly glazed expression, spoke again.
Koh-knee-chee-wah, goh-mee.
Its a good thing that Trash was not drinking at that moment, or there would have been iced coffee all over the table. Trash half-laughed, half-coughed, as the tension he had been feeling broke.
Whats so funny?
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
There was another short pause, and then Danny spoke again.
Nah-knee-gah-oh-mow-she-roy-dehs-kah?
Nothing. Its working pretty well, except for my name, of course. I can understand what you said, at least.Trash replied in Japanese.
Wait. Try this, Trash couldnt hold back anymore.
Reaching across the table, he pulled lightly on one of the earpod wires, and Danny took that one out of his ear and handed it to Trash, who gave it a quick look, rubbed it on his shirt sleeve, and then shoved it into his own ear. Then he picked up the connected device, pressed the buttons on the top a few times, then placed it back in the center of the table.
How is this? Can you understand what I am saying?
Danny paused for a moment.
Yeah. It works!
A moment later, a male voice repeated what Danny had just said, but in Japanese, through the earbud in Trashs ear.
It works well enough, but it may have problems with a few things. Like it translated my name Trash into trash.
Trash frowned. This was a strange but annoying quirk. He tried to figure out how to make it work properly.
Trash garbage
Trash. trash. Shit.
Danny was starting to giggle, causing Trash to momentarily panic.
It translates my name into the Japanese word for garbage.
Thats what you get for using an English word for your handle. You could just tell me your real name, and it wont be a problem.
Trash gritted his teeth, then took the earbud out, wiped it on the clean napkin on the table, then handed it back to Danny.
Anyway, You see how it works, right?
Danny looked down at the device. Then he nodded.
Yeah. Its pretty impressive.
You should see the phone. In the other box, Trash blurted out. Worrying that this strange foreigner was already losing interest.
Danny opened up the second box. Inside, packed in grey foam, was a top-of-the-line Hansa cellphone.
Hansa had been late to the mobile handset party. Unlike the other Japanese electronics companies, Hansa did not have strong ties to the Japanese telecommunications ministry, and had not take advantage of the years long protected market that had isolated the countrys mobile phone market from the rest of the world.
That had changed with the iPhone. The old Japanese-style flip phones were no longer the hottest product, and the complacent, slow-moving Japanese electronics companies had been too slow and shortsighted to prevent the market from transforming overnight.
That was when Hansa made a surprising move. As a pioneer in flat-screen display technology, the company was perfectly positioned to take advantage of the demand for larger, higher-quality screens in mobile phones. The company could have established a formidable position by becoming a primary supplier to companies like Apple, Samsung, and others fighting for dominance over this new market. Instead, it made a shockingly aggresive move by purchasing a well-known Taiwanese OEM manufacturer of mobile communications technology.
Just two years after the iPhone was released, the Hansa KT-01 was released to huge fanfare in the Japanese market. Two weeks later, it had been crucified by the media for being a rushed, unoriginal, and unusable junk product.
Priced at a ridiculous premium over the iPhone, the new entry in the market had been a cringe-inducing failure, akin to a rocket blowing up on the launchpad. Rumors were that less than ten thousand units had been sold, and that returns were in the four-digit range.
Still, Hansas management persevered. The device in front of Danny was the newly released Hansa KT-01-A, an upgraded model with a faster processor, a better camera, and a larger battery. Unfortunately, those improvements came at a cost. Not only was the upgraded model larger and heavier than its predecessor, but they had also raised its already eye-watering price, making it the most expensive phone on the market by a fair margin.
As for himself, Trash treasured his iPhone 3GS. He had even lined up overnight to get his hands on the upgraded phone when it had been released the previous year. He had also lined up a few weeks ago to get a pre-order coupon for the launch of the new model. The iPhone 4, which was going on sale the next day. Unfortunately, there was no way he could upgrade his phone now. He didnt even have enough funds in his account currently to pay off his current mobile bill.
Danny picked up the sleek black smartphone, feeling the weight in his hands.
Wow! This is quite the thick little cutie. Right?
He hefted the phone in his hands a few times to emphasize the weight.
Never thought I would be able to hold one of these things. They are probably shipping them straight to a museum.
Trash was ready this time for the ear-splitting bleating. He managed to maintain a straight face and keep his eyes from scanning the horrified looks likely coming from the other tables.
Activating the phone, Danny watched as the operating system loaded and the Hansa company logo was replaced by a familiar-looking desktop.
While Google had introduced a competitor to the Apple phones operating system, and offered it to other manufacturers for licensing, Hansa had pushed ahead with their own in-house system. One of the most common complaints about the Hansa device was, in fact, that very software. It was heavily criticized for being slow and unresponsive, unintuitive and unattractive. It was closer to a replication of Microsofts failed mobile operating system, WindowsCE, than a response to Apples new, user-friendly touch interface.
That was what Danny was expecting when the device started up. What greeted him in reality was quite a bit different. It was a wholly unexpected and pleasant surprise.
Holding the phone in his hand, the moment he placed his thumb on the screen, a circular menu grew out from that spot, allowing him to see different actions he could take. He pulled back his thumb and placed his index finger on the screen. The same thing happened, but this time, the location and shape of the interface changed. It could recognize what fingers he was using and adjusted the feedback to give a more comfortable position and ergonomic control.
Danny repeatedly touched the screen to bring up the option buttons. He switched fingers and even swapped the phone into his left hand. Each time, the menu morphed to give him an optimized arrangement. It was fast, intuitive, and, he had to admit, fun.
Damn. When did they do this? This is light years ahead of the first version. This might be even better than the iPhone, Danny muttered to himself.
Hold it next to the egg, instructed Trash.
Danny gave him a confused look. Trash pointed at the translation device on the table.
Oh, Egg. I get it.
Danny brought the phone until it was pointed directly at the unit. After a moment, the screen on the phone flashed, and the screen blacked out. Immediately, a large egg filled the screen. It looked like an easter egg, covered in swirls of rainbow colors.
A short animation played out. The egg cracked, the shattered. Out of the shell popped not a bird, but a small turtle. The turtle crawled around the screen in a circle, but quickly morphed into a traditional Japanese princess. Danny thought she was a strange mascot character, with weird eyebrows and a plump white face, but he had to admit that the animation was well done.
Finally, the screen changed into a more traditional menu screen. The princess shrunk into the top left corner of the screen, and across the rest of the top was the title, SOUND PRINCESS.
Despite the somewhat lackluster title, the interface was impressive. It was clean and attractive. Danny checked the various options and found the phones touch interface was seamlessly integrated with the program. Touching the screen rearranged the design so that nothing was hidden or blocked; the most intuitive options were always the most convenient.
The scope of the application was staggering. Danny found options to change the voice so that two speakers could communicate and the voices could be changed from male to female independently. There was even a toggle to do this dynamically.
The device was preset to work with English and Japanese and apparently would automatically detect the language spoken and adjust the setting appropriately. There was a dropdown that included dozens of other languages, although Danny noted that most of them were greyed out. Only English, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, French, German, and Spanish were currently selectable.
He saw options for PTT mode but was unsure what that meant. There was also a Voice Copy option.
Whats this? Danny pointed the option out to Trash.
Trash was a little annoyed by the question. He was just the middleman, not tech support. But with no better option, he just went with the flow.
Im not sure. Ryo said something like it can copy your voice and use that to replace the system voice when it translates. But I think its not working yet.
Holy shit. This is amazing. This is all top-level. Why has Hansa been sitting on this?
Trash just shrugged. He knew, of course. Corporate politics. Thats what happened to all the best things. Sakamoto was one of Hansas top engineers. He had been working there for his entire career. But then they threw the phone project on him, then blamed him for the failure, despite most of the blunders being made by the top management. It was an old story.
But Sakamoto had been working on his own secret project. The Sound Princess. He had been developing it for years, and the phone project finally gave him the resources to make it into reality.
Trash had known Sakamoto for a while. At first, he had just been one of Trashs customers. They would usually meet to exchange goods at a local cafe or bar. Trash had introduced Sakamoto to Danny when the American had asked if he knew any Japanese engineers. It was Sakamoto who suggested that Trash act as the middleman for this deal. After he had been informed that he was slated for early retirement, he had become a vengeful and angry man, but he was also a cautious and calculating one.
Well, damn it. Yeah, I still want it. Fuck! How am I supposed to get that much cash here? Im heading to Singapore for the next month to set up the venture that is supposed to be working on this. If I fly out without it, the whole thing gets set back I dont know. It could tank the whole deal. I need something to show the investors.
Trash nodded to the device on the table.
No, thats not nearly enough. First of all, it has Hansas fingerprints all over it. No. I need the source code, and I need enough time for my guys in Singapore to rebuild it.
That had been the deal. Once Danny released the funds, Sakamoto would send Trash the files. Once Trash handed them over to Danny, He would wire an 8% commission to Trash. Eight thousand US dollars. It was enough to clear his debt and then some. It was enough to give Trash the space he needed to get organized and figure out what to do going forward.
He just needed to figure out how to somehow make the deal go through.
Chapter Three: It鈥檚 Super Effective!
Chapter Three: Its Super Effective!
To Trashs relief, Danny paid for the lunch. There was a momentary bit of drama when he pulled out a credit card, however.
Trash realized that the American might not have enough cash to pay. He had seen foreign tourists get in trouble many times because they expected everywhere to accept credit cards. Something that was not that common for small businesses. More than once, with no other option, restaurants had no other choice but to just let them go.
Luckily, the owner quickly reached under the register and pulled out a small credit card reader. It was one of those internet-connected ones that only recently started gaining popularity. Trash felt like he had just barely avoided a disaster.
With the payment taken care of, they were about to walk out onto the street when the owner spoke again.
Patientez sil-vous-plait.
Danny looked at Trash, but Trash was just as clueless. He hoped that there was nothing wrong with the payment. The lunch bill was his whole weeks food budget.
Reaching underneath the counter again, the owner produced a large paper bag. Opening it up, he pointed to the two white boxes that Danny was still carrying in his hands. Unlike Trash, who carried an enormous backpack wherever he went, the American had shown up to the meeting without even a briefcase.
Danny handed over the boxes hesitantly, which were gently placed into the bag. The owner then stepped out from behind the counter and handed Danny the bag with both hands, bowing slightly.
He followed the pair out the door, and as they started walking down the street, the owner once again bowed from the doorway before returning inside.
They stopped at the corner, and Danny turned to Trash.
What the heck was that?
Trash took a moment to realize what Danny was talking about.
Oh, yeah. Thats just a Japanese service thing. Just being polite to a VIP customer.
Danny mulled that over in his head for a moment, then lifted the bag up to eye level. Trash couldnt help but notice now that Danny was standing upright, he was even taller than his own 180 centimeters. Trash was tall for a Japanese, inconveniently so, but the American would have to watch his head to ensure he didnt bump it on doorways.
What about the bag? Its not like this is takaway.
He just thought you might be inconvenienced by having to carry those boxes around loosely. He was trying to be helpful.
It pained him to admit it, but that waiter had turned out to be a pretty decent human. He was too good looking to be a straight-up person, but he certainly had the service thing down. It was his bad, for not thinking to bring a separate bag for Danny to carry the boxes in. He now felt he owed that guy some credit for covering his error.
Hmm, yeah. The staff at the hotel are pretty deferential like that, too. Must be nice to live here.
That statement struck a nerve with Trash. He tried to keep a scowl off his face but only partially succeeded.
Japanese people are very polite, but polite is not the same thing as nice, he warned.
Danny studied Trashs face and considered that response.
Good to know, he said with a wry smile. Ill keep that in mind. So, youre going to give me the premium Akihabara tour, right?
Trash gave him his best fake smile, then barked his response like a soldier.
Hai! Lancelet-shi, using the form of address used more commonly by the geek inhabitants of Akihabara.
Inside, Trash was regretting his offer to show the American around, especially with the deal in limbo. He didnt feel like playing tour guide right now. Still, he couldnt head back home now. He had a lot of things he still needed to do today, and one of his cardinal rules was he only left his home once a day. He would not go back until all his business was taken care of care of for today, making it a long day indeed. He had a few hours at least to kill, so there was no harm.
I have a few stops I need to make, if thats okay. For my work. You might also find them interesting.
Sure, lead the way, Comrade Trash!
Trash nodded as he led the way toward the Mikura bridge. It was still hot and humid, even though the sky was darkening clouds keeping the sun from heating the roads. Trash was still sweating buckets and pulled out the handkerchief to mop his face after they had only walked a couple hundred meters.
Turning right onto Yasukuni road, they passed nondescript small office buildings one after another. This was hardly the atmosphere that people associated with the famous Akihabara. Trash smiled at that thought. Foreign tourists were sold on the image of maids, anime stores, and flashy electronics, which, in all fairness, was what it looked like by the station, but Trash had spent countless hours canvassing the surrounding neighborhood. He knew every secluded cafe, hidden shrine, and secret back-door shop from Kanda to Ueno.
After a few blocks of walking, Trash could feel Danny getting bored and confused. That was fine. They would soon be back to the heart of the geek capital. First, however, he had work to do.
Stopping in front of what looked like a typical, shabby old office building, Trash motioned for Danny to wait while he stepped into a side door entrance. He only stepped into the door for a moment, however, and immediately came back out. When he did, he was carrying a few pieces of colored paper full of printed text.
He moved to the next building and repeated the pattern. A few buildings down the road, they stopped in front of a rack full of papers, like a magazine stand outside the door, Instead of going in, this time Trash just grabbed a couple of the sheets of paper before continuing down the street.
They repeated the pattern a few more times over the next couple of blocks. Trash now held a stack of papers in his hand. Danny finally had enough.
What the heck are you doing? Are you some kind of paperboy?
Paperboy? Trash looked back, confused. The word didnt make any sense to him.
Paperboy. Like newspapers and shit. What are those things you are collecting.
Trash smiled slyly. This was his chance to show off a little bit.
This. This is my work. Here, take a look, He said, handing the stack of paper to Danny to look at.
Each page was covered in tiny printed tables. It was an Excel nightmare of Japanese words, letters, and numbers. It made no sense at all, and Danny had to look away after just a few seconds before he got a migraine from the tiny text covering every bit of the page.
Trash took the papers back and rolled them into a cylinder. Using it as a pointer, he waved down the street at the buildings they had just passed.
They call Akihabara the Electric Town, Trash explained.
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It used to be where the Electricians college was, and after that, where all the parts and suppliers were gathered. Now, people still come to go shopping for cameras, dishwashers, and air conditioners. But all those flashy shops in front of the station are for normies. Those shops will rip you off every time.
Yeah, its pretty much the same in every country. Go into any tourist shop, and youll be lucky to get out with your shirt still on your back, Danny agreed, nodding along as though he was an old hand at this type of commerce.
But what are those buildings then? He added, realizing that the mystery was still unsolved.
Those are also electronics stores, Trash explained.
Bullshit, Danny shook his head and laughed.
You dont believe me? Come, Ill prove it to you.
They had nearly reached the Mansei bridge. Trash led them through a side alley so they could walk straight to the large restaurant on the southern side of the bridge crossing back across the Kanda river. On the other side was the beating heart of Akihabara.
As they crossed the bridge, Danny finally caught sight of the lights, the signs, and the crowds of people filling the streets. This is what the travel guides had led him to expect.
Trash pointed down the main drag. This was where all the movies and TV shows filmed the money shot, lights, noise, and chaos of Akihabara. You could see dozens of maids passing out flyers everywhere. The Sobu Line elevated train cut across the tops of old buildings housing electronics shops. Tourists clogged the sidewalks, surrounded by gaudy electric signs and loudspeakers.
This was one of Trashs favorite views of the town. It captured the chaotic and eclectic personality of the town, but from the outside looking in. To Trash, who felt that he was a native inhabitant of this place, crossing the Mansei bridge was like opening the front door to his home.
Im home,he whispered under his breath as he led the American into the heart of Akihabara.
It was only a few steps in before they reached Onoden, one of the giant magnet stores that had been in Akihabara since before Trash had been born. Like every other major retailer in the area, the first floor of the large building was a nightmare of light and noise. Flashing lights, giant television sets, sirens, speakers blaring music and sales pitches in Japanese, English, and Chinese. It was truly a retail hellscape.
This is also an electronics store, Trash explained to Danny.
Yeah, this is pretty much what I expected. Were those other buildings the offices for this place or something? The American guessed.
Trash grinned. It was a pretty good guess, actually. Wrong, but intuitive. It was hardly surprising. Even most Japanese didnt know Trashs shopping tricks.
Trash pointed at a large flat-screen television set in the front of the store. He found the price tag and model information on a tag on one side and pointed it out to Danny.
[HANSA HDT-3DSX-101C90S, 185,000]
Thats the brand new Hansa 3D TV. 40-inch screen LED. It just came out a few weeks ago. The price there is 185,000 yen before taxes. At a place like this, you can get it tax-free if you are a tourist. What do you think?
Danny mulled it over.
How much is that in dollars? Like $1,500?
Trash nodded. Of course, he was good with numbers, remembering what the American man did for a living.
Not bad. I dont know if that 3D thing gimmick is worth the price. Glasses included? He asked.
Trash checked the specs.
Nope, Those are extra. 4,800 yen each. Like $45.
Well, these stores are pretty impressive. Thats a huge amount of product to have right here on the street like this. But I dont think I can fit one of those in my suitcase, Danny grinned, then panned his head around to see what else he could see that might be interesting.
Check this out, Trash said, pulling his attention back.
Trash took the first set of papers from his stack. He took a second to scan the tiny text, then turned them to Danny, his finger pointing out one line. The American had to squint to read it.
[HDT-3DSX-101C90S, 32, 168,350]
Trash grabbed the next set of papers. Not finding what he wanted, he sorted through a few more until he found something, then pointed it out to Danny.
[HANSA HDT-3DSX-101C90S, 3, 166,00]
What is this? Danny asked, confused.
The prices those shops sell the same TV for.
Danny looked at the papers again. He checked the prices, then looked back at the sign on the TV in the store.
Thats a pretty good discount. Nine to ten percent. Whats the catch?
Look at this store. Its right across from the station on the main street. Pricy real estate, he pointed into the store.
There are a dozen salespeople on this floor alone, and there are six floors above this one. Thats a lot of staff to pay.
Danny nodded his agreement. Then his eyes opened.
Wait. Those places are outlets? No sales staff. Just warehouses?
Trash was surprised. He caught on very quickly. Not many people he knew understood how it worked.
Every day they print out the prices and stock. Not just those, but there are a dozen more similar shops in the area. But the prices change daily, and you must hunt for the best deals. Anywhere between 3% and 20% cheaper compared to the major retailers in the area.
So when you said this is your work
I keep up to date on prices. Find the really good bargains. I have some clients who come to me just to find good deals. Mostly businesses that need to buy office equipment quickly or stuff like that. They give me a percentage of the savings compared to the retail price.
You make much money doing that?
That question banished what little smile he had from Trashs face. The truth was that it wasnt very profitable at all. Hed brokered a couple of large sales. Those had earned him a tidy amount, but most of the time, his kickback was just a few hundred yen. Usually, he just settled with a cup of coffee or, if he was lucky, a dinner of curry rice or maybe a pork cutlet set.
It probably was not worth the time it took for Trash to run around the town collecting the daily price lists, and some of them had already started to transition to online sales, which would effectively eliminate his value.
In the end, this was another dead-end idea, one of many he had pursued to find a way to support himself with odd jobs.
Not much, he admitted. Its good for building up relationships with my clients though. I have a reputation for knowing everything and everyone in Akiba. Trash played up his image on reflex. He just needed one big payday, and well, it would get him out of his current crisis at least. Tomorrow would always have a new crisis, but that was for his future self to deal with. The disaster in front of him right now was his to figure out.
I see, Danny replied, perhaps just to be polite.
So whats inside those doors? Back in those outlet stores. Whos inside?
Just a guy at a small desk. You grab the price sheets. If you want something, you give him the product number, and he calls someone. They find it and bring it to you. Cash only. No service. No one gives you a nice paper bag and brushes the dust from your shoulders in the doorway. You cant ask them any questions about specifications or anything. Just read them the number, pay the money.
Sounds kinda shady. Like buying stuff from the back of a U-Haul.
Trash gave him a questioning look, then shook his head.
You know, the neighborhood discount? Red and blue light special?
If anything, the sound of Dannys laughter was even worse outside. At least a passing truck kept the sounds from drawing attention.
Trash didnt even want to know what the joke was. He just wanted the noise to stop.
That sounds pretty shady. Are you sure the stuff they sell there is legit? Like, is it water damaged or anything?
Oh! No. Nothing like that. They are normal stores. You get invoices and warranty cards, and everything is the same as the other stores. They just dont have to pay for all the extra floorspace and staff. Even with the discount, they make more profit than the big stores.
Hmmm. Its an interesting model, thats for sure. Cant really think of anything close that Ive seen before. Not sure it would work anywhere else, though. Danny looked back into the electronics store, then turned back to Trash.
Okay, whats next?
Just one more quick stop. Then we can go to a maid cafe or something.
Danny raised his eyebrow. Maid cafe? Seriously?
Well, if you want the whole Akiba experience, you should at least visit one once.
You are the leader. I shall trust your guidance, Danny said theatrically.
Dont worry. I think you will like this next place quite a lot. Its very much your kind of place, Trash assured him.
Trash led the way through the crowds toward the busy street in front of Akihabara station. They were now completely surrounded by tourists and maids. The street was busy with camera stores and some shops that sold nothing but Japanese comic books and anime-related goods, as well as others with posters of all the new adult DVD releases.
They stopped in front of an old eight-story building with a giant gaudy yellow and red neon sign. Rather than enter from the front, Trash led Danny along the side of the building, passing through a narrow maze of passages that quickly had Danny turned around.
This is Radio Kaikan. Its a landmark. They say the building is dangerous, though. Cracks on some of the floors. If you feel an earthquake, better run fast, okay? Trash explained with a smirk.
Ha, Ha. Funny.
Danny, thankfully, just responded this time with a fake, mock laugh.
No, seriously. They are going to condemn the building. Tear it down and maybe rebuild it? Next year, I heard.
Danny stopped. He looked at the old concrete walls suspiciously.
Wait, if the building is unsafe, why is it still full of people? Danny demanded.
Huh? Well, no new building is ready yet. Where would all these businesses go? There are dozens of stores here. If a quake hits, well, maybe bigger problems. For now, they are just keep it quiet. Some people know that its dangerous. Enter at your own risk, you know? I think there is a sign somewhere.
In English?
Maybe? Trash pushed through the busy crowd until they reached a dark and suspect stairway.
Third floor, Trash said as he started the climb.
Danny followed, holding the paper bag with the white boxes to his chest.
At the second landing, Trash turned and walked down an equally dark and narrow hallway. The walls were covered by towers of boxes, stacked Tetris style to the ceiling and reducing the hall space in half.
Finally, he stopped in front of a large doorway into a thankfully well-lit shop.
Here we are.
Danny just shook his head, wondering what kind of rabbit hole had he fallen into.
Chapter Four: All Your Base Are Belong To Us.
Chapter Four: All Your Base Are Belong To Us.
From the outside, the store was unassuming and boring. It actually looked like a store, however, unlike many of the other shops in the building which appeared to be more like the last refuge of a hoarder than a place of business. The entrance was unobstructed by the towers of cardboard boxes or industrial-sized spools of cabling that seemed to decorate most of the other doors. Everything on this floor, from the hallways to the interiors of the shops themselves was a claustrophobics nightmare. Danny moved slowly and nervously, partly due to Trashs confession on the first floor, while Trash slid through the tight space with practiced ease and confidence. This was his home turf.
It appeared that many of the stores were electronic supply stores. Signs included logos of famous brand names for audio and video equipment, displays for digital electronic components, and testing equipment were partially visible behind the towers of large cardboard boxes covered with indecipherable codes of model numbers and brand logos. Trashs ultimate destination was quite different than those shops, however.
The store Trash had entered was entirely different. Walking past the large, unobstructed double doors, Danny followed Trash into a Long and wide room, well-lit and a pleasant relief from the cramped atmosphere of the hallway.
Danny stopped inside the entrance to take in the view. It resembled a strange locker room more than a store. Instead of shelves filled with products, it was packed with Hundreds of clear acrylic boxes, each the size of an office storage box, stacked one on top of another, creating a maze-like labyrinth.
Trash approached the closest wall of boxes, his eyes quickly scanning the rows until he located one about two-thirds from the top. After a quick glance, he hunted out another one on the same wall. This box was just below the top row. After examining this box more closely, he waved for Danny to come over.
Danny looked into the clear boxes as he walked deeper into the store. Each box had the most eclectic collection of items he could imagine.
No two boxes had the same contents, or more accurately, each box in itself was full of random items. There were stuffed animals and toy car replicas. Some were filled with nothing but books, while another may only contain one small hand-painted figure of an anime character. Some items appeared to be brand new, still in cellophane-wrapped packaging, while others appeared to be used, and at least one toy that Danny noticed was clearly broken. Many of the boxes appeared to cater to anime-related goods and toys, but there was even a box full of what appeared to be bicycle or motorcycle accessories.
What the heck is all this stuff? Danny demanded when he reached Trash, who was now examining a third box on another wall of boxes.
This is a rental box store. Each box is a store. Do you have these in the US? Trash asked, not turning away from the boxes as though it was a famous exhibit in a museum that had captured his attention.
Danny moved close to examine the boxes and picked out a few more details. Each box was entirely clear, allowing light to filter through to the lower levels. They were also sealed, although there was a small key lock for each box, implying that the front face was, in fact, a door that could open up. Every box also had a label on the front face, apparently denoting the row and number of the box in the formation, and each item inside the boxes were clearly tagged with a number and price.
Trash had pulled out his phone and opened up a spreadsheet application. After looking at the fourth box, he made a couple of notations on the tiny screen in the densely packed document.
Danny was far from idle. He was fascinated by each box as he passed. He had no idea what most of the items were, but he recognized a surprising amount. There were boxes that had both video games and game consoles. Some had ridiculously cheap prices while other items, like what appeared to be an antique original Nintendo special edition Gameboy Color handheld, sported a pricetag demanding a princely sum. Some items were marked with what seemed to be detailed descriptions of the contents in Japanese, while others offered no information beyond the price.
Trash stopped scanning the boxes and checked on Danny.
So, have you figured it out yet?
Its like a flea market? Danny murmured, now engrossed in a box full of Nintendo Famicom game cartridges.
Kind of, Trash was again surprised at how quickly the man caught on.
You can rent these boxes for a small fee. Then, put anything you want into it. Customers can come here and can buy. Just fill out this form and give it to the staff in front. Easy way to sell anything you want.
Trash handed Danny a small slip of paper that he took from a box attached to one of the nearby walls. It looked like an order form, with places to write in the Row, and Box number, along with the item numbers of anything you wanted them to retrieve for you.
Danny turned his attention back to Trash with an excited look.
How much to rent a box? Do they take a commission on the sales? Can you really put anything in them? Do many people buy here? He shot the questions out in rapid succession.
Trash was momentarily taken aback by the interrogation but quickly recovered. He was glad he brought the American here. He needed to stay on his good side if he had a hope of salvaging his payday.
The boxes here are pretty cheap. The small boxes go for as low as 1,000 yen a month, but better positions and larger sizes will increase the rate. Top and bottom rows are cheaper. The store will handle the sales and you dont have to pay them anything extra. You can add or remove things from the box as much as you want. I just go to the front desk and ask for the key for my box, He waved around the room.
I have ten rental boxes here. Another ten boxes are in a another shop on the first floor, and a few more are spread out around town. Its trendy in Akiba, so I have to check every few days to see if I need to add new items.
Trash motioned for Danny to follow him as he moved to another aisle. He stopped in front of what appeared to be a row of slightly larger boxes and pointed at one that was chest-high.
This is my most expensive box. This one costs 3,500 a month. I put some of my more expensive items here.
Danny looked into the box that Trash had pointed out. He saw a variety of video games; most of the titles were in Japanese, and he didnt recognize them. There were some X-box games as well, and a few old handhelds, including a GameBoy and a Sega GameGear. Danny nodded to Trash, approving of the collection.
Positioned behind the games was what appeared to be a complete and painted plastic model of an anime robot. Danny was vaguely familiar with the franchise but did not recognize the one in the display case. Looking at it closely, he could tell that it was hand-painted and was expertly made. The shading and details made it look like a real-world replica, complete with painted-on dirt and scratches that made it look like it had seen real action. He noticed the price tag attached to the model.
[50,000]
Dannys eyes widened.
That toy is worth five hundred bucks?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Trash looked at him with an embarrassed look. In truth, he had forgotten all about the Gunpla models in the boxes. He had been placing them here since he started but had yet to sell any.
Its not really there to sell. The price is high because I dont expect anyone to buy them. I just like making them, but I dont have anywhere to display them. They only cost about 3,000 yen, and I can put one together in a weekend. My friend suggested I put them in my boxes to attract customers. Makes my boxes look more interesting gives me a place to store my models.
He pointed to the small index card taped to the inside of the front of the box. It included a list of all the items inside and the prices. Danny did some quick arithmetic.
Wow, theres more than a thousand dollars of products in this box alone, including the model. Whats your revenue look like?
Not bad. I spend about 50,000 yen a month on rent for all my boxes. On a good month, I can make eighty, maybe ninety thousand yen profit on all the items I sell, but I also sell a lot of the items on internet auction sites now. Its getting more profitable to use the internet, but I started out here, so I keep the boxes out of nostalgia? Trash couldnt think of a better word to describe his feelings. Maybe it was just hard to change his habits.
Also, there are things you can sell here that auctions wont allow them, He said, pointing to a nearby box. It was a larger box on the same row, so it would likely cost the same rent as Trashs box.
Danny looked closer at the box. Inside, there was a single item. A very large anime figure. It appeared to be of a woman posing, and she was completely naked except for what appeared to be some strategically placed stickers. The price tag placed on the base of the sculpture was yet another eye-popping figure.
[220,000]
Two grand? Are you shitting me? Danny sputtered.
Thats Suppons art. Hes famous. Look. See the mark?
Danny noticed a small drawing next to the price.
That little turtle?
Yes, thats his mark. I mean, maybe his. We dont know if Suppon is a he or she. No one ever sees when their boxes are filled. All the figures are handmade from scratch and unique. There are a more around here, and even more downstairs; even then, maybe only two or three are sold each month.
Danny looked closer at the figure but, in a moment of self-awareness, shook his head and looked away at the scandalous piece. He glanced back at Trashs box and the inventory.
Hey! Is that your mark? He asked, pointing at the small logo on the corner of the card. It was a simple icon of a trashcan with some Japanese lettering underneath.
Yeah. All my boxes have this mark. So customers who know me will know my goods are quality.
Whats that under the logo? Danny pointed at the letters.
Just my name. Trash, in Japanese characters.
Danny got a thoughtful look on his face.
You know, you said I would have to come to Japan for you to tell me where you got that name.
Trash gave Danny a blank look.
Cmon, spill it! I told you where Lancelet comes from, Danny pressed his case.
Huh? When did I say that? Besides, you just picked your name out from some old fantasy novel, right? Thats basic.
Its not just some old fantasy novel. Its an unappreciated classicmore literature than fantasy. Zimmer-Bradley took a stuffy old legend and turned it into a true epic. It stands up there with the works of Tolkien and LeGuin and Bradbury.
Trash didnt quite follow what the man was talking about so enthusiastically. He wasnt much of a reader, aside from the weekly comic magazine Young Sunday. Since they had discontinued publication a few years ago, he only kept up with the latest anime and manga trends out of professional interest. Limited products from the popular anime series were some of his most consistent sales items, after all.
Realizing he had lost track of his question, Danny regrouped.
Anyway, whats the big secret? Just give me your first name then.
Trash shook his head.
I hate my name, okay? Its a stupid name in Japanese. Its embarrassing. I used to get bullied just for my name. So I never use it anymore. When the bullies finally stopped making fun of my name, they just called me Trash. I guess I preferred that name, so I just stuck with it.
The lighthearted smile on Dannys face disappeared with Trashs admission. Trash scowled after being pushed to explain the story.
Shit. Okay. Sorry. Anyway Its cool you took control like that. Trash is a cool handle. Unique in a counter-culture subversive way, I mean.
Yeah. Anyway, I just need to check a few more boxes. Then we can go.
Danny nodded, then looked around and found another interesting looking box to draw him away. Trash went back to checking the stock in his boxes.
As he feared, product had barely moved. At this rate, he might not even clear the box rent this month. He had really blown it on those event-limited K-On! Character goods. He thought the series would have kept its popularity longer, but hed now been sitting on tons of inventory that wouldnt move and would probably get harder as time went on. He was already pricing everything at cost just to clear it out.
He didnt even bother glancing into any of the other boxes. Even if there was something interesting, he wasnt in the position to risk spending the last of his cash reserves on more stuff that he wouldnt even have a place to store in a few weeks.
The boxes on the first floor would have fared better, of course, but the profit from those boxes was lower. They were full of lower priced goods to attract the tourists and normies who wandered into the boxes on the way to the video game arcades.
Taking a deep breath, Trash steeled himself. He had to find a way to get the deal between Danny and Sakamoto to go through.
Sakamoto had been adamant when they spoke the night before. He wanted the entire amount in cash. He said it was too risky to fly down to Singapore to get the money, and the US would be even worse. Besides, the man didnt speak a word of English.
On the other hand, Trash knew how hard it was for foreigners to get large amounts of cash in Japan. Anything over $10,000 would automatically get flagged. He had even tailored his fee to make sure it fell under that line. The last thing he needed now was scrutiny of his business dealings.
He knew from his research that Danny had the money. He was some kind of Silicon Valley pioneer. He sold off his startup for millions. If only he had come over as an investor, there was probably a way he could bring plenty of money through customs.
But considering the business that they were attempting, any scrutiny by officials would be a disaster. Trash was well aware that the worst-case scenario might even land him in jail.
If only he werent up against this unreasonable deadline. His prospects were arguably not great by Japanese standards. He didnt have a steady job or even a moderately respectable academic record. He lacked the social skills for any kind of service job, except maybe a convenience store employee. In his desperation, Trash had even checked out the pay for that unpleasant job, and even with the late-night bonus, the pay there would never earn him enough to pay off his debts.
His mind wandered to his friend Pazu.
He cursed inwardly and chastised himself. He had sworn never to ask his friend for money. Through all his troubles, he had never once begged for a single 100 yen coin from his best friend, even when Pazu had offered.
It was a matter of pride, he knew. Pazu had been his only friend from school. He was a far better friend than he deserved, and Trash had vowed never to use that connection. If he lost his best friend over something like money, then he didnt deserve the money or the friend.
Besides, Pazu had already helped him out by paying him to build his live-streaming setup and webpage. Trash knew he had technically overpaid him as he got industry rates for what was obviously an amateur job.
Trash was about to look for Danny so that they could finish the tour, but stopped when he had a sudden thought.
There was no way he could ask Pazu for a loan. He had already ruled that out. But Pazu had always been eager to help him. He was the only one Trash trusted would never betray him.
Pazu was rich. That was never a secret. His family had money, and as an only child, all that money would go to him. Despite that advantage, however, Pazu was also smart and highly motivated. Trash was sure he could have been a lawyer, or a teacher, or maybe a doctor. They both agreed that being a businessman was a waste, and luckily, Pazus parents had given him the freedom to plot his own path.
That path had led through many places, and while Trash was useless with other people, Pazu was naturally charismatic. He cultivated contacts and supporters with ease. This had culminated in his current choice of vocation. Along the way, however, he had tried more than a few other potential careers.
Trash recalled one specific job that Pazu had tried out while still a high school student, working in a record shop.
Trash had been shocked that his friend would even consider a job in retail hawking used records in of all places, Shibuya. Sure enough, he had only stayed there a few weeks before moving on to something else.
There was something about that job that had stuck with Trash. Something that Pazu had mentioned months later while they were hanging out.
It was so boring. That place barely got any customers. I couldnt take it.
Pazu had been complaining about the job. Even though he had been on good terms with the owner, he could not take the tedium of minding an empty store.
But the owner. That guy. Id kill to know what his secrets are. You could tell by the people he talked to. The kind of guys who came to the shop right when it closed.
You mean
Definitely.
Trash understood that this would be crossing another big line. One that he had always avoided. But this whole deal was crossing one of those lines.
He was out of other options. He hated to involve Pazu in this mess in any way, but maybe just an introduction might be enough to get him out of this mess.
What more did he have to lose?
Chapter Five: Do You Know Where I Can Find Some Sailors?
Chapter Five: Do You Know Where I Can Find Some Sailors?
Trash found Danny near the entrance to the store. He was deeply engrossed in a large box that was full of animation cells. These were a popular item, but Trash was surprised that Danny had taken an interest in them.
Hey, do you know if they take credit cards here? Danny asked when he noticed Trash standing beside him.
I dont think so. Let me ask.
Trash went over to the register and flagged down the manager. Trash had been a steady customer, and the manager gave him a friendly nod.
Need the key?
Trash shook his head.
Nah, its ok. Its been a slow week. Do you take credit cards? My friend over there might be interested in buying something.
Sorry, Were looking into it, but the owner is against it. Margins are too tight, and we would have to pass the fees on to the renters. Its a pain in the neck. Bank transfer is ok, though.
Yeah, I figured. Thanks.
Danny was looking expectantly at Trash, who shook his head and crossed his arms to indicate that the answer was no, then walked over to stand next to the American.
Sorry, most of these small shops dont take credit cards. Especially these types of specialty shops. Its still a cash-only system. Did you bring any cash with you?
Danny looked disappointed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long, thin wallet.
Pulling out a slip of paper, Danny handed it to Trash.
How about this? This is all I have.
Trash examined the strange document. It looked like fake money. It indicated a value of 10,000 yen, but it wasnt any type of currency he had ever seen.
What is it?
Travelers check.
Trash looked at the paper again. He had heard of travelers checks before. They said you should not take cash to some countries because you would attract thieves, so travel agencies always advertised them, not that Trash had ever had the need.
He was surprised. He had assumed that they would be in US dollars, but this one appeared to be valued in yen.
Handing it back to Danny, he went back over to the manager.
Any chance you can accept a travelers check? Its in yen, I think.
The man waved his hand in front of his face and shook his head.
No way. Those things are useless. You can only get those exchanged at banks or fancy hotels. We get tourists who try to pass them off onto us all the time. Sorry, even if its your friend, I cant take them. Please understand.
The manager was eyeing Danny nervously. Trash wondered if he expected the American to make a scene. He got the impression that similar incidents had occurred in the past, prompting the man to revert to a more polite, formal demeanor.
Dont worry. Ill explain it.
Trash wasnt as confident as he let on. He had already seen the man lose his temper, and he had no idea how he would respond to being told his money was useless.
Sorry. He said that they cant take travelers checks either, Trash explained cautiously.
They arent very common in Japan, so most people dont know what they are.
Figures. My assistant picked these up for me and said they should be fine. She doesnt know crap about this kind of stuff. I can probably get the hotel to cash some out for me later. But that leaves me broke.
Danny grinned but thankfully did not laugh.
Dont you have any cash?
Nope. Stupid assistant got me these instead of exchanging cash. Im gonna let her have it when I talk to her next time.
Then how did you get here from the hotel?
The hotel arranged a car for me. I just gave them the address to the restaurant, and it dropped me off. I guess the taxi will just bill the hotel.
Trash nodded his understanding, but his mind was racing. He thought he would take man around, but if he had no money, it would be pretty inconvenient. He could stick to the big chain stores. They definitely took cards, but they were pretty boring. TRADERS should be okay, but it might be better to skip the smaller shops.
Maybe you can come back another time if you want to purchase something. Or if there is something specific you want, I can pick it up for you later.
Danny thought it over.
Well, maybe. This is not really a shopping trip after all. But this store concept is interesting. Ill want to check it out again sometime. Ive never seen anything like it before.
Should we move on then?
Danny nodded, then looked back into the store with a regretful expression.
On the way out of the building, Trash showed Danny the other, larger box store on the first floor. They just looked at it from the outside, but he explained that the different stores catered to slightly different clientele. The first-floor shop had much greater foot traffic, but also less serious customers. The boxes were more expensive to rent and higher prices items didnt do as well, so the profit margin was lower. The boxes here were mostly a mix of gachapon hauls, anime goods and toys.
Trash decided to take Danny to look at the Radio Center. He doubted the man would want to buy anything there, but it was certainly an interesting sight.
Come, let me show you something else. He suggested, then led Danny outside and across the road. Nestled between the station and the main street was an old building that housed the old electric parts market. The famous Radio Center.
Essentially unchanged since it had opened half a century ago, Radio Center was like the fish market in Tsukiji, just for electronic geeks. The cramped, low-ceiling, space divided into narrow rows of tiny stalls. Each offered a staggering array of goods. Wires, transistors, resistors, plugs, lights, even old-school radio tubes.
A modern-day geek, Trash didnt even know what most of the items on sale here were, but they also had shops that specialized in security cameras, speaker components, and radio transmitters. As soon as they entered, Trash could see the look of surprise and wonder on Dannys face.
What the heck is this place?
Old marketplace for electricians. This is the old Akiba, from the days before the anime shops and maid cafes. You can buy almost anything here, but you have to know what you are looking for. The shop people arent big on customer service. Dont expect them to explain what anything here does or help you find something.
Trash knew this firsthand. He had come here to source some special components for Pazus live-streaming setup. He had needed some custom wires and fittings made, but asking one of the shop owners questions had been a harsh lesson. The old man had practically chased him out of the building for wasting his time with ignorant questions. Ultimately, he had done more research online and then tried again at the market across the main road.
Eventually, he learned the rules and found a shop on the second floor that gave him the best price, but he still avoided that first shop to this day.
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See that stall? It only sells switches, and that one has every size and color of LED bulb you could want for a DIY project.
He led Danny up to the second floor where the wiring specialist shop he used was.
This place will make any wire you want. Any material, any length, and will add whatever connectors you need, but you have to provide them with wiring schematics. Whatever you give them, they will make it, but if it doesnt work, its all on you.
Next to the wiring store was yet another box store. This one was slightly different, however.
This is E-Box. Another rental box store, but this one only sells antiques. Like old electronics. Cameras, radios, even old cellphones.
Dannys eyes went wide as he started to peruse the boxes. There were old portable televisions, a box full of dummy display cellphones, another with several expensive binoculars, and one even had an old antique rice cooker.
I once found an original working Sony TR-55 here. It might be even more rare than that Mcdonalds DS game I got you.
Danny looked at him with a questioning look on his face. Trash felt a bit of pride that he could show off his knowledge to someone who might appreciate it.
The first Sony transistor radio. It was made before they even officially named the company Sony. I saw one sell on auction for over 100,000 yen. I still regret not buying it, but I couldnt line up a buyer in time.
You can get stuff like that in a place like this? Danny asked incredulously. Indeed, the building and the store were both showing the years, and calling it dilapidated would be generous.
Some of the best stuff you can only get in a place like this. A lot of old sellers dont trust the internet. I just focus on Akiba, but there is a network of hunters like me all over Japan.
Well, you havent let me down yet. So Danny turned away from the antiques to give Trash an appraising look.
How are we going to handle the Sound Princess?
Trash flinched. He had an idea, but it wasnt fully formed yet. First, he had to talk to Pazu.
I have an idea. Maybe I can find someone to help. To broker the deal? Is that the right expression?
Yeah, something like that. I need someone to act as an underwriter, but not just anyone. After all, its not exactly a straightforward business deal, right? Danny locked his eyes on Trash, who immediately looked away.
Yeah. I know. Its got to be someone with discretion. I might know someone. I need to talk to my contacts. I can let you know later tonight. After I meet with Ryo.
Danny kept his eyes locked on Trash for a few more seconds, then he broke his stare and started to walk back to the narrow, unlit staircase.
Lets move on. This place is too cramped. I have to walk hunched over.
Trash realized that it must have been uncomfortable. He had to stoop to walk around in this building as well, but he had grown so accustomed to it that he did it naturally now. Realizing his error, he followed the tall American out of the building to the main street in front of him so they could both stretch out and stand upright again.
They walked up the main street, and Trash pointed out some of the more interesting shops and the big arcade game centers. The street was crowded with tourists and shoppers. Girls dressed up as maids stood on every corner, handing out flyers enticing customers to visit their cafe. Standing several meters behind them, Trash picked out their minders. Always on guard to intervene if any ignorant tourist tried to get a two-shot picture without paying the participation fee.
It was a hot and humid day, and Trash could feel the rain coming. There was the distinct smell of iron mixing with the dirt, auto exhaust, and fragrant smoke coming from the kebab truck on the corner. He had some late-night business, and he hoped it wouldnt rain too much.
They walked slowly, getting bombarded by the loud music and announcements coming from the stores and game arcades. The sidewalks were cluttered with crates selling discount goods and other useless junk. In most places, people avoided buying used items. Akihabara, on the other hand, was where no obsolete, defective, or impractical item was unworthy of a place in a sales display.
It wasnt until they reached TRADERS that Danny showed any great interest. This had been Trashs main destination anyway, and he was glad that he had anticipated Dannys interest.
As the largest used game store in the area, TRADERS main store was an impressive sight. Seven full floors full of nothing but used video games and accessories of every genre, platform, and era.
TRADERS wasnt exactly a mainstay for a hunter like Trash. It was far too mainstream. With impressive foot traffic, anything rare wouldnt even make it to the shelves, and the prices were slightly high at best. Still, for your average game shopper, it was hard to beat the convenience and selection of this Akihabara anchor store. Besides, he could hardly show a client his secret sources.
Trash confirmed at the front that credit cards were accepted and was happy to note that purchases were tax-exempt for tourists with a passport.
Danny and Trash spent the next two hours in the store, starting in the basement and going up, one floor at a time. Trash helped Danny navigate the different sections, but he was yet again surprised at how quickly the man picked up the system. By the time they had fully canvassed the store, they had filled up three shopping baskets full of CDs, cartridges, and even a couple of limited-edition box sets.
As the clerk was processing the items they selected, Danny was checking out the used handheld game machines they kept behind the register.
I want one of those GameBoys with the old Famicom color motif. Also, those PSP Gos. They are new ones, right? With the games preloaded? I want three of those. Two black ones and one white.
Trash relayed the orders, which the bored clerk took without reaction.
First, he took a box with one of the limited edition GameBoy Micro, Famicom 20th Anniversary edition. Trash had to give Danny credit for taste. This was an excellent piece, and they were starting to get hard to find in good condition.
As it was a used handheld, the clerk took it out of the box, confirmed all the accessories were in place, and then held it out to Danny.
He wants you to check it before you buy it. To make sure its not scratched or cracked, Trash explained.
Danny nodded appreciatively. He looked the device over, then handed it back to the clerk, who repackaged it.
Japanese service. Not bad, Danny nodded and smiled at the clerk who continued to prepare Dannys purchases without emotion.
The PSP Go units were brand new. They had plenty of used ones for sale, as the model was turning out to be a disappointment for Sony. The price for the re-release was still fairly close to the used price, and the new units now shipped with ten free games. He was surprised that Danny even knew about that, as it was supposedly a Japan-only offer.
Since they were new, there was no need to open up the boxes for inspection, so after placing all the purchases into two large shopping bags, the clerk rang up all the items and gave them the bad news.
Trash swallowed hard when he saw the number. Nearly 200,000 yen. Rich people really shopped differently. It was hard for someone in his line of work to look at the spending habits of others critically. After all, he knew that others looked at him the same way; someone who wasted all their time and money on toys and games.
But looking at the ease that Danny casually handed over the credit card to make a purchase that could keep him fed for months made Trash realize that the some people lived in an different world.
He fantasized about what it would be like to have that kind of money. To not worry about the future, and if you needed something, you just went out and got it. What would his business be like if he could buy things in advance instead of always needed to line up a buyer first? He could increase his margins and in turn make some real money.
Trash knew his days were numbered. The money from this deal, even if it went through, would only buy him a few months at best. He was getting evicted in a week, and even the cheapest rent would push his income into the red. He envied Pazu for his passion, and he really envied this American for his wealth.
Trash knew what he was. He knew what people called him; a social drop-out. One of those creepy, geeky guys who lived on the fringes of society. He even lacked the determination of the hard-core anime fanboys that Akihabara was famous for. His uncle and aunt had lectured him for hours about his lack of drive, direction, or prospects before dropping the bomb and cutting him off.
Unbidden, Trash picked up the bags holding the shopping haul. Danny followed behind, stretching again and rubbing his shoulders as soon as they had space on the sidewalk. Trash could see the fatigue had taken its toll, and the low ceilings and cramped aisles could get painful for people over 175cm until they got used to it.
Lets take a break. I know a good place to sit down. You should like it, Trash promised.
Danny gave him a grateful look and nodded his agreement.
They walked up the street, just another block or so, then Trash pulled them into a narrow side street. Another half block, and they stood in front of another old building. The narrow, gray structure was rather boring other than the strange, garage-like shop on the first floor. A large yellow sign above the shop sported simple black Japanese characters that Danny couldnt read, but after looking into the store, he gave Trash an interested, though confused look.
Its a gatchapon store, Trash answered before Danny could ask.
Kind of like gambling for kids. You put in money, and a small random toy comes out. A lot of the cases in the box stores are full of them. People selling off full sets or rare pulls or just all the leftover trash pulls. Think of them as geek slot machines.
Danny walked in and got a closer look at one of the machines. They somewhat resembled a water cooler from an office or a giant gum-ball machine. A large tank on top was full of small, colorful plastic balls. Below that was a place to put in coins and a dispenser large enough for one of the balls to drop out. A poster on each machine advertised the various toys and goods that could be won from each unit.
There were dozens of the machines in rows and several large trash cans in the back overflowing with empty plastic balls.
Many people just buy what they want in the box stores if they dont want to gamble, but others prefer to risk it. You can also just keep pulling until you get what you want and try to sell the extras off at some of the shops in the area.
Danny nodded, but his stamina was wearing down, and the jet lag was starting to hit him again.
Anyway, this isnt why I came here, Trash confirmed, then proceeded to walk to the back of the store.
In the back corner, there was a small elevator next to a staircase. Before he had a chance to hit the up button, the doors opened, and a young couple wearing high school uniforms came out. They chatted cheerfully as they walked through the store and out into the street.
Trash shook his head. The normies were everywhere these days. He and Danny had to squeeze in to fit into the small elevator. Danny hit the button for the 6th floor, then waited as the slow box leisurely brought them to the top floor.
Once they exited the elevator, there was a tiny landing and a strange door. It had a hand-painted sign hanging below a small window with lace curtains.
Welcome to another world, Trash promised as he pushed open the door and motioned for Danny to enter.
Chapter Six: Every Puzzle Has an Answer.
Chapter Six: Every Puzzle Has an Answer.
As soon as they passed through the entrance, it was clear what type of establishment this was.
Two young women immediately greeted them as soon as they entered, bowing deeply. They were both dressed in maid outfits.
The room itself was rather unremarkable. It looked like some old office that had been converted into a cafe, which in fact, it was. The boring, plain walls were offset with cheap patio furniture. Frilly tablecloths and fake flowers attempted to create an ambiance, but it was clear that the highlights of the establishment were meant to be the staff.
As they entered, the two maids addressed them both in Japanese in unison.
Welcome back, Dear Customer, Trash cringed at the trite greeting. He hated coming to these types of places, but it was often a necessity considering his regular clientele.
Unlike many of the typical customers who frequented maid cafes, Trash had no nostalgic fetish for bourgeois customs. The standard greeting of all Akihabara maid cafes was meant to give the socially awkward target customers a feeling of a warm home, perhaps mimicking an adoring family. Trash had no such memories, even from his earliest childhood. To him, family had always been a burden, a sentiment that was shared by every blood relation he had ever met. The ubiquitous greeting, Welcome back, carried no more authenticity to him than the assignment of the title Dear Customer.
He knew these girls did not consider themselves servants any more than they saw him as anything more than a cheap mark. Some pathetic loser who came to these places to pay someone just to treat him with anything other than disgust and disdain. Trash knew that under their fake manners and hollow words, these were the type who would move across the carriage if he sat next to them on the train. But here, where they were paid to do so, they called him Dear Customer and pretended he was anything but the loser they saw him as.
So, finally a maid cafe, huh? Danny asked Trash.
Not just any maid cafe. This is The maid cafe. The Cure Maid Cafe. The one that started it all, Trash explained.
One of the maids smiled at his words, surprising Trash. She must have understood his English. That was not something he would have expected from these girls, but giving it some consideration, they might be getting more foreign customers these days. Maybe she was the one tasked with serving non-Japanese guests.
She addressed Trash and asked if they were there to eat, or just have a drink. He indicated that they were just there for a coffee. She smiled and led them to a table by one of the few windows at the end of the room.
She brought over two more chairs and some baskets to put Trashs backpack and the shopping bags into. As they sat down, she produced two single-page menus. Trash noticed that the one she handed to Danny was written in English.
She gave them both an appraising look, then spoke to them in clear and unaccented English.
Thank you for visiting the Cure Maid Cafe. I hope you will have a pleasant visit. This is the cafe menu, but if you would like to order a meal, I can bring the restaurant menu. I apologize for the impertinence, but as we can be busy, we ask that you limit your visit to one hour so that other customers may have a turn. I will be back in a moment to take your orders.
Bowing deeply to them, she backed away from the table several steps before turning around and walking back to the entrance of the cafe.
So, this is what all the fuss is about? I dunno, its not quite what I was expecting. It feels more laid back? Less J-Pop anime crazy than the rumors, Danny mused.
Oh, they have those too. I just cant stand them. Also, they have a seating charge. This is the famous one, though. The original Akiba maid cafe. Mostly, people like it because of the uniforms.
Danny raised his eyebrow at that explanation.
The long skirt traditional maid costume. Some guys go nuts over them. Those new trendy places are like hostess clubs. Lacy mini-skirts and pre-school games with the customers. Cure Cafe at least has some sense of professionalism and pride. Well, they still do Moe-Moe-Kyun, but they dont send the girls out to draw in customers off the street.
The menu was simple, with coffee, tea, and some simple cakes. When they had decided on what to order, the waitress appeared before they even turned to look for the staff.
Have you decided on your order?
Yes, Ill have a coffee set with the cheesecake, and he will get the coffee set with Danny tried to remember what Trash had picked.
Mont Blanc, with iced coffee.
She nodded, then repeated back their order.
One coffee set with cheesecake. Hot coffee. One set with Mont Blanc and iced coffee.
After receiving their confirmation, she backed away from the table again before turning and walking into the kitchen.
Letting out a deep breath, Danny slumped a bit in his chair.
Thanks, Trash. This has been fun, but Im wiped out. Probably the jet lag.
Trash nodded but didnt know what else to say. Then Danny sat back up and leaned over the table.
So, you think you can save this deal?
With a furrowed brow, Trash thought over his plan again.
I dont know. Ill try. I know someone, well, I know someone who knows someone. Maybe they can arrange the cash. Ill talk to my contact today and see if I can arrange a meeting.
Frowning, Danny considered this for a moment.
How much more is this going to cost?
I dont know. This is new for me, Trash explained. He didnt like admitting that he was clueless here. It felt unprofessional. Still, he was already well outside of his comfort zone. If he werent so desperate now, he would just as soon walk away from the whole deal.
Danny looked thoughtful, then glanced at the bag holding the white boxes in the basket beside the table.
Alright. Im bumping your commission up to 15%. But any other costs come out of your cut. Good?
1.5 million yen; Trash was stunned. Still, he had to bear all the expenses. Who knows how much it would cost to get someone to front the cash? Maybe 200 thousand? No, 300 thousand seemed reasonable. He was just guessing. There was a real risk, and he didnt know what he was getting into.
I dont have the money to pay upfront.
Thats fine. If it comes to it, I can get some cash, at least. Here.
Pulling wallet from his jacket, Danny counted out twenty-five of the 10,000 yen travelers checks.
Here, you can use these to cover your expenses for now. Ive got more back at the hotel, so you can take all these. I wont even include it in your 15%.
The offer made it hard to focus. Trash couldnt believe what he was hearing. An extra 250,000 yen. Thats 1.75 million yen minus whatever it costs to get the cash. His hands were sweating, and his head was spinning. He could feel the greed inside him aching to reach out and grab the pile of paper on the table.
Im terribly sorry, Dear Customer. The Cure Maid Cafe is unable to take payment in the form of travelers checks or credit cards. Please forgive us for our inability to offer this service, Dear Customer. I beg your understanding in requesting payment in cash or JCB shopping vouchers.
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Both men were surprised to see the waitress carrying a tray containing their orders in both hands. Danny quickly grabbed the bills and guiltily shoved them back into the wallet.
Trash nearly had a heart attack. He had not seen her until she had spoken. How much of their conversation had she heard?
With practiced ease, the waitress deftly shifted the tray to hold it entirely with one hand, then proceeded to serve them, first by placing the cakes in front of them, then a glass containing iced coffee in front of Trash and a fragile-looking porcelain cup full of black coffee in front of Danny. Finally, she placed a small pot full of cream and another glass with small tubs of syrup sweetener in the center of the table.
Holding the now empty tray against her chest, she bowed deeply again and took one step back. Then she stopped.
Trash turned to look at her. The first time he had dared to make eye contact.
She spoke again. In English to both of them.
Forgive me for saying something unnecessary. If you need, the post office bank should be able to assist you with cashing those travelers checks.
The two men looked at each other. Still processing the situation and the information shared by the girl wearing a stuffy British maid costume, Trash nodded and thanked the girl in English.
Thank you.
Before she could back away, Danny spoke to her.
Sorry. Do you think I could borrow a pen? He asked sheepishly.
Certainly, please wait a moment, she said as she backed away and disappeared.
Damn, is she some kind of maid ninja? Danny asked half-joking.
I didnt even notice her sneaking up on us, did you?
Trash shook his head.
After a moment, she returned and placed a pen in front of Danny with the same care she had shown with the tray full of cups and plates.
Quickly getting to work, Danny started scribbling on the backs of each of the slips of paper. Then he shoved them all back into the wallet and handed it over to Trash.
Here.
Carefully accepted the wallet, Trash took it gingerly in his hands. He examined the bundle like it was a fragile, hand-built model kit. The wallet was actually a small, bill-sized envelope, large enough to fit currency bills without folding them. It was made of a thin leather and there was a small magnetic flap that closed to seal them in. It appeared brand new, so it was something likely purchased just to hold these checks, but it was much fancier than something the bank would give you to hold money when you withdraw it. Holding it in his hands, he thought the wallet alone probably cost more than 10,000 yen. He wondered if Danny would want it back.
Now that youve taken all my money, youre going to have to pick up the check for this, though, Danny said, motioning to the food and drink spread across the table.
Oh, and Im going to need some help getting back to the hotel, too, Danny said with a mischievous grin.
Anxiety returned as Trash instinctively started to add up the costs in his head.
As if reading his mind, Danny smiled, then let slip a horrifying grunt-like giggle. This time, Trash couldnt help but visibly wince, but Danny didnt seem to notice.
Taking a bite of the cake, Danny washed it down with a sip of coffee. Then he immediately opened up two tubs of clear liquid sweetener and filled the cup to the brim with creme.
Cakes not bad, but the coffee
Trash took a sip of his iced coffee through a straw, then just as quickly added sweetener and creme to his own glass.
As they ate, they talked about the different things they had done that day. Danny asked more questions about how the box stores worked and what other kinds of stores they had in Akihabara. Trash did his best to explain what he could, though he admitted that he wasnt much of a tour guide.
After they had finished eating and resting, they grabbed their things and walked over to the register where the waitress was waiting for them. Trash fished his wallet from his backpack and slowly counted out the bills to pay for their food. It wasnt that much, but he was loathe to part with any cash these days. She counted out the coins for his change and placed them into a small tray that she pushed forward.
You should give her a good tip! Danny advised.
He understood the concept, but no one tipped in a cafe in Japan. That was a thing they do in other countries. He was about to protest, but then he remembered the leather wallet full of checks in his backpack. He decided to suck it up, and from the coins he had received back, he selected the largest one. A 500 yen coin. It represented almost a quarter of their entire bill! It nearly caused him physical pain, but he placed the coin on the tray and then pushed it back to the waitress.
He half expected her to protest and refuse the money, but instead, she just smiled and bowed deeply. As her head lowered, Trash was sure he caught her giving him a wink, but he was probably imagining it.
Alright. Stop flirting with the maids, Danny scolded playfully while pushing him out the door.
They stepped into the elevator and the waitress stood in the doorway. As the doors closed, she bowed deeply once more.
We eagerly await your next visit.
Maybe this cafe wasnt so bad, Trash thought to himself as the elevator slowly crawled down to the ground floor. Then again, 1,150 yen for a drink and cake set was extortionist pricing. That was almost enough to get three beef bowls at Yoshinoya. Well, if he had to pick a place for a business meeting in the future, maybe this wasnt such a bad place.
As they exited the gatchapon maze, Danny spoke.
Alright, Im done. I gotta get some sleep.
Trash nodded.
What hotel are you staying at?
The Victoria. Near Tokyo Station.
You want a taxi?
Actually, do you think I can get there by train? Ive always wanted to ride the famous Tokyo trains. Do they really have guys who shove you into the cars?
Trash smiled and chuckled.
Yeah, but not here, and not now. Its a morning rush hour thing, and only at the outer stations. All the worker ants trying to get to the office at the same time. At this time of day, its not that crowded. Besides, Tokyo station is just a few stops away.
Pulling out his phone, Trash checked the map application and looked up the hotel.
Oh, its right next to Yurakucho station. You can just take the Yamanote line four stops, he explained.
Ill show you how to get to the station.
They walked back down the main street, then into the station. Trash realized that he would also need to help him with the train, so he went over to the ticket machine.
He pondered buying a one-use ticket but decided a more robust solution was warranted. Digging through his bag, he found his wallet again and, flipping through a thick stack of cards inside, pulled out a green and grey card.
Shoving it into one of the ticket machines, he checked the value remaining on the card. The display read 920.
That should be enough. Thankfully, he wouldnt need to recharge it, and the balance was enough for four to five local rides. Luckily, he always carried a few of these cards around. He found them a convenient way to carry cash and over time, had collected half a dozen extra, unlinked cards. More than once, he had resorted to taking payment via a credit card charge directly to one of these prepaid train passes. While it was easy to charge them up with a credit card using a ticket machine, it was a pain to get the money out in cash, so he had vowed only to use this method in case of emergency.
Retrieving the card from the ticket machine, he handed it to Danny. Pulling out another card, he walked to the ticket gate and swiped his card over the reader. He walked through, then motioned for Danny to follow.
Danny swiped his own card, then came through the gate.
Not bad. Good, efficient system, he said with admiration.
You just swipe again when you exit. It will automatically calculate the fare. There should be enough money in it for at least four rides within Tokyo. If you need to, you can even top it up with a credit card at one of those machines. There is a limit though, I think you can only put in up to ten or twenty thousand yen at a time.
Damn, handy little things, Danny turned the card around in his hands.
You can also use them to buy drinks from the vending machines in stations, Trash said, pointing to one of the many machines scattered throughout the building.
Really?
Before Trash could respond, Danny ran over to a nearby vending machine. After studying the offerings for a minute, Danny hit the button below a bottle of Pocari Sweat. There was a beep, but nothing happened.
Trash pointed to the sensor below the coin slot. Danny swiped the card, and the machine made a whirring sound followed by the thunk of a bottle landing in the receiving tray.
Grinning like a schoolboy, Danny reached down into the machine and pulled out the bottle.
Awesome. I see the ads all over and was wondering what this was, he exclaimed as he twisted off the cap and took a swig of the cloudy white liquid.
With a slightly confused look, Danny swished the drink around and then swallowed.
Not sure if I am tasting the Pocari or the sweat.
Trash rolled his eyes at the old joke. He pointed out the escalator to the southbound Yamanote line platform.
Lets go.
Moments later, they were standing on the busy platform.
You want to get off in four stops. At Yurakucho station, the one right after Tokyo Station. Its right next to your hotel. Remember, four stops. Yurakucho.
Yes, Mom, Danny said, rolling his eyes.
This is a loop line. If you miss your stop, you have to wait for it to circle Tokyo. Its an hour per loop.
Wouldnt it be faster to get on the opposite train?
Surprised, He realized that Danny was reading the train signs that were all written in both Japanese and English. He had never noticed that the signs were all in English. When did they do that, he wondered.
As the train approached, Trash handed over the shopping bags. Danny took them and then smiled.
Thanks, man. Good luck with Sakamoto. Drop me an email after you do. Let me know what the plan is. I should be up at one in the morning, thanks to this damned jetlag.
Trash nodded as Danny stepped on the train.
Just before the doors closed trash heard the American yell, If you dont fix this, Youre fucked. Got it?
As the train pulled away, Trash felt a giant weight fall off his shoulders. He hadnt realized how stressful it had been to guide Danny around Akihabara. Nor had he anticipated how different he would be from the geeky game collector he knew as Lancelet. That final warning gave him chills.
For now, he needed a plan. If he could convince Sakamoto to go back to the original deal, he could double his commission. Maybe he could build this into a new business, one that could actually get him somewhere.
But he needed a backup in case Sakamoto wouldnt budge. That was the most likely scenario considering how intransigent the man had been the last time they spoke.
Trash pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Pazu.
On my way to your place. Need to talk.
He checked the time. It was still 3:30. He had just half an hour before the post office closed.
Pulling off his bag, he checked the pocket containing the bulging leather wallet. Holding it like a treasure in his hands, he quickly made for the train station exit.
Chapter Seven: Faith in money will lead you nowhere.
Chapter Seven: Faith in money will lead you nowhere.
Exiting the station on the Electric Town side, Trash was glad he remembered about the new post office under the UDX building. The old one was over by the Mansei bridge, but this one was on the way to Pazus place. Stopping there would save time and effort.
He crossed the street and was relieved that the bank side of the post office was still open. He slid in, then went to the desk where one of the employees was waiting.
Excuse me, can you help me exchange some Travelers checks?
Are they Japan Post issued Travelers checks?
Wait, just a minute.
Trash pulled the wallet from his backpack. Pulling one of the checks out, he examined it and then showed it to the woman sitting across from him.
It says American Express.
One moment, would you allow me to examine that, please?
The teller slid a plastic tray across the desk to Trash, where he placed the slip of paper. Then she retrieved it before picking up the check and looking over both sides.
One moment, please.
Placing the check back on the tray, she picked them up and then walked over to a man at a desk in the back of the room.
They sat there talking for at least fifteen minutes, and Trash was getting nervous. He hated coming into banks. It was always like this. Even the most simple matter took hours, and you never knew what was going on.
Finally, the woman returned to her seat.
Yes, however, we are only able to deposit the funds into a Postal Bank account. If these were issued from the Postal Bank, then we could convert them directly into currency. Alternatively, we can convert them, but if you do not have an account, we would have to charge a handling fee of 1%. What would you like to do?
Gritting his teeth, Trash wanted to scream. Why did things need to be so annoying? He dug through his bag again and pulled out his wallet.
It took him a minute, but he eventually located his Postal Savings account cash card. It was actually the only bank account he had, though he hardly ever had any money in it. His grandfather had him set it up years ago so that he could receive an allowance without them having to meet face to face. Those deposits had ended ages ago, so the account was largely unused.
He placed the card into the tray beside the check.
Can I have it deposited into this account?
She took the tray back and picked up the card carefully.
Embarrassed, Trash realized that the card, having been stuck in a pocket of his wallet for months, unused, was dirty and maybe even a bit sticky.
He could tell that she was disgusted, but she was not allowed to show it, so she just picked the card up gingerly, with the least amount of contact with her fingers possible.
May I check on this?
Trash just nodded, mortified.
She quickly placed the card onto another tray, they took that tray to a machine in the back of the office.
She had a computer right there on her desk; why couldnt she check without going to another part of the room? Trash was irritated and humiliated and increasingly stressed and impatient at how long this was taking.
After several minutes, she returned and placed the tray with the card back on the desk.
Yes, this would be fine. How much would you like to deposit? Please note that for travelers checks issued by foreign banks, there is a limit of 300,000 yen per day.
Then, there will be no service charge, correct?
Yes, that is correct.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Trash placed the entire leather wallet on the tray with the other check.
All of these, please.
I understand. One moment, please.
He watched as she removed the checks and then counted them by hand. Then, she repeated the count to double-check. She scribbled a note on a piece of paper on her desk, then opened a drawer. Taking a form out, she placed it in front of Trash.
25 ten thousand yen travelers checks for a total of 250,000 yen. Is that correct?
He nodded.
Please fill out this form over at that table, then bring everything back to me.
He wanted to scream. This was taking forever. Looking at his watch, he panicked. It had just passed 4. The bank should be closing.
Umm, you wont close, right?
Dont worry, I will wait until this transaction is completed.
At least she wasnt rushing him. He guessed they were trained not to do that.
He gathered everything up, including the form, his bank card, and the envelope, and walked over to a nearby standing table.
It was all straightforward, so less than a minute later, he brought everything back and placed it in front of the bank employee.
Could I get an identification card? A passport or drivers license would be fine.
Again, Trash panicked. He pulled out his wallet, looking for anything that he could use. He found a card and slammed it down directly on the table.
How about this? Will this work?
Picking up the card, she looked it over.
Yes, this is fine. One moment, please.
Placing everything on the tray, she took it all back to one of the desks in the back of the room.
Trash slumped down in the chair. Luckily, he had that old scooter-bike license. It wasnt a full drivers license, but apparently it was enough. He never actually got around to buying the scooter, but he had optimistically applied for the license a year ago.
Finally, she came back and sat down on her desk. She typed some words into her computer, then pulled a printed piece of paper from under her desk.
Placing the now empty wallet, his ID, and bank card on top of the paper, she slid everything over.
Please check to make sure everything is in order. Thank you for using the Postal Bank today.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Trash grabbed everything. He stuck the cards back into his wallet, then put both wallets into the pocket of his bag. He scanned the receipt, and indeed, he saw his balance was now higher than he had ever seen it. The number made him feel almost dizzy.
He stood, and as he was walking out, the employee was standing and bowing to him politely. Taken off guard, he instinctively turned and returned the gesture, then stepped outside.
Before he had taken a dozen steps, he turned around. Inside the entrance of the post office bank, the was an ATM. He couldnt resist.
Fishing the card out again, he placed the bank card into the machine. He noticed that the card was now clean of dirt, and whatever sticky residue had coated half the cards in his wallet. She must have cleaned it somehow. That thought was more than a little embarrassing, but he was focused on something else.
The total for his account was glowing from the screen.
[272,421]
He wanted to jump in triumph but refrained. Instead, he had to quickly decide what to do next.
He punched a few buttons, then stared at the screen again. Changing his mind, he hit more buttons. He did this two more times until the machine seemed to lose patience with him and started to beep angrily.
For the last time, he hit the number pad and then waited.
The cash dispense counted out ten crisp 10,000 yen bills. Not quite half of his new net worth. He placed these bills into the leather wallet and put them back into his wallet.
He knew that this was not the solution to his problem, but he couldnt help but feel a giant sense of relief. If anything, he was even more motivated to close the deal. Having money in your bank account felt very nice indeed.
Now, he was ready to head to Pazus. But before then, he still needed to make a couple of quick stops.
Walking around to the side of the UDX building, he went into the side entrance behind the coffee shop.
This was one of his secret bathrooms.
Part of living in in a city like Tokyo is knowing where the good public bathrooms are hidden. This was especially critical in places like Akihabara, where many of the buildings were old and decrepit, and clean, public restrooms were rare.
As a new development, UDX had nice, state-of-the-art bathrooms that were kept clean, making the hidden one on the ground floor, was a critical resource for Trash.
As one of his rules was that he never went home halfway through the day, he often needed somewhere to clean up.
On days like today, he was already feeling pretty gross. It was hot and humid, and he had been walking by through the exhaust-filled air all day. He was sweaty, dirty, and in desperate need of a bath.
The large sinks in the bathroom gave him the next best thing, and they were convenient and free.
The toilets werent as nice as the ones on the 5th floor of Yodobashi Camera, the floor where household appliances were on display, and they made sure that the toilets there were always pristine and top of the line, but the UDX secret bathroom was nice and clean, and the important part was that very few people knew about it. There was even a place to hang up his bag and jacket, which he did before pulling out a pack of deodorant wipes from his backpack.
He didnt want to show up to Pazus like a homeless guy, although the truth was not far off. Pazus restaurant was a nice and respectable establishment, and besides, Saki would be there.
Wiping his face and neck, then his arms, he even used the wipes to clean the sweat off his chest, back, and under his arms. Thankfully, he pulled off the maneuver again as no one entered to witness his whores bath. He checked himself in the mirror, wet his hands, and ran them through his hair, trying to make it a bit less of a mess, then chided himself for doing something so embarrassing. Who cares what he looked like? Pazu had seen him at his worst. He threw on his jacket and grabbed his bag, throwing it over one shoulder, he walked out.
He felt compelled to make one more quick stop since he was here.
Stepping onto the road, just a few steps away from UDX, he found the hidden alleyway.
Walking on the street, you would pass it without noticing it all. The entrance was so narrow it just looked like a seam between two neighboring buildings. Even standing in front, staring directly into it, this did not look like somewhere anyone could enter.
Holding his backpack in one hand to keep his profile narrow, Trash slid between the two buildings and entered the dark alleyway.
It was narrow, and there wasnt even a proper place to stand or walk. There was only the ledge from one of the buildings that was wide enough to shimmy through. As soon as he entered, it was dark, with the only light filtered from the narrow entrance behind and from the thin bit of sky, almost entirely blocked by the tall buildings on both sides.
He continued to slide along. Very few people knew about this place, and even fewer would visit, but Trash wasnt sure what he would do if he ever encountered another person here. There was no space to breathe, so any meeting here would be awkward in the extreme.
He passed the first buildings and kept going. Eventually, walking almost the entire length of the block through this narrow corridor. Once upon a time, it was possible to get here from the other side, only a few steps in, but now, construction tents blocked that way, so this was currently the only way in.
Trash wondered if someday both entrances would be blocked off. Or maybe the other side would finally be opened up, and the secret location would finally be revealed to everyone who walked by.
He didnt want to see that happen, though. Trash liked having his secret places. He liked knowing things that no one else did and the feeling that only he understood the true nature of these streets that millions of people walked around every day. It gave him the only sense of power and superiority he had ever felt in his life.
Finally, he arrived at his destination. It was so dark, and mostly covered in shadow, but as he stepped into a small void between the buildings, he found himself standing before a small shrine.
Trash was not a religious of overly superstitious person, but he did have a few traditions. This was one.
Before doing something big. Before a major decision, or a big event, he would come here and make a small offering. He never went to the big shrines for New Years or other auspicious holidays, but he would come here.
He knew very little about this shrine. Who maintained it, or even what it was properly called. He knew it was a fox shrine. That, he could tell from the small stone statue at the entrance.
Hed heard about it from a 2ch thread a few years ago and sought it out. At first, he couldnt find it at all. Hed walked past the entrance half a dozen times, his eyes passing over the gap as though it wasnt there.
When he found it, he was sure it was a hoax. That narrow passage couldnt possibly lead anywhere.
When he finally worked up the nerve to travel through the dark path, and found the secret space hidden in the middle of a block of ordinary office buildings, he was inspired and impressed beyond words.
It was one of the first, true, hidden treasures of Akiba that he had found, and the one that inspired him to look for more. He wanted to search for all the secret shops hidden in the basements or on the high floors. To learn the patterns of the sales, and product rotations. Trash wanted nothing more or less than to be able to say that no one knew this place better than he. That he alone had been to all the secret places and found all the hidden treasures.
He stood before the stone fox statue and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the coins left over from his change from the maid cafe. It was just a couple of small coins, but he placed them in the offering box. He prayed for the success of the deal. He wished everything would work out and that he would be able to stay in this place somehow.
Clapping twice, he bowed his head. Waiting to see if his feelings changed. If he could notice something different.
Of course, there was nothing. It was just a silly superstition, and he was not a superstitious person.
Sliding down the path, back to the exit always felt faster. Perhaps it was because he could see the street up ahead. A light at the end of the tunnel, letting him know he had not been taken away to a land of spirits and ghosts.
He finally stepped onto the street. He swung his backpack onto both shoulders to take the stress off his one arm, and started to make his way up the street.
He was leaving Akihabara. Just going a few blocks North towards Ueno. It always felt strange to leave Chiyoda City. As he crossed the border into Taito City, he smiled.
That was another secret of his. It wasnt a hidden secret, in fact, it was advertised by nearly every street sign he passed. It was just a secret that people found surprising because it went against conventional knowledge.
People ignored the truth because it was easier just to keep repeating what you were told by others. You just accepted what you heard without questioning it, even when the evidence was right in your face.
Thats what normies did. Thats how they lived. Whatever happened in the future, Trash could not accept a life like that. One where the truth mattered less than a comfortable lie.
Akihabara wasnt in Akihabara after all. Trash knew this because he lived in the real Akihabara. The town of Akihabara was located in Taito City, just a few blocks to the east of where he was right now. The station, all the maid cafes, and electronic shops. They were all in Chiyoda city. An entirely different city. Maps dont lie. But people do.
People lie.
Finally, Trash reached his destination. A small restaurant on the ground floor of a small four-story office building.
The restaurant had a rustic facade, with wooden planks and a faux garden along the front.
Above the entrance was a small, hand-painted wooden sign with the name written in three languages in neat, ornate script.
Charons Cafe
(?Ѧئ)
˲襫
Pushing the door open, He entered.
An amazingly delicious aroma filled the small restaurant. Pazu was cooking.
A small bell rang as the door closed behind him, but the room was silent and empty. It was early, so no customers would be there yet.
He sat down at the counter table along the wall and placed his backpack on the floor. He took a deep breath and analyzed the fragrance with closed eyes.
Saffron? Cumin? Lots of spices, some kind of curry. Sweet and savory mixed together and ignited his appetite. His stomach growled.
A loud thunk brought him out of his meditation. Someone had just slammed a glass of water onto the table in front of him.
He was too scared to open his eyes, knowing who had done it.
Hey, owner! The freeloader is back!
Slowly, Trash opened his eyes and turned to face the owner of the voice.
Hi, Saki. Been a while.
Not hardly long enough, freeloader.
Chapter Eight: What is a Man? A Miserable Little Pile of Secrets.
Chapter Eight: What is a Man? A Miserable Little Pile of Secrets.
Hey Trash, got your message.
Pazu walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.
Ah shit, Sorry. I was going to grab something from the convenience store. I totally forgot. I didnt mean to show up empty handed.
Trash heard a loud snort from Saki, who had gone into the kitchen, probably to check on whatever Pazu was cooking.
No worries, man. Are you okay, though? You look kind of out of it.
Trash relaxed and let himself smile. That was how Pazu always was. From back to their school days, Pazu was always looking out for him.
Pazu wasnt particularly good-looking. He was rather thin and short. He let his hair grow out these days into a weird ponytail, but it matched his face.
Trash had been big for his age, while since primary school, Pazu had always had a small stature. When they had originally become friends in middle school, they had always made a strange pair when they went out in public.
But when they first met, they had not spoken at all, even though they were in the same class.
From the first day of school, Pazu had attracted the bullies in the class. He was small and sickly looking. He had been very shy, so he made a perfect target.
That was until word spread about Trashs family. Suddenly, all the focus seemed to shift to target him. Children prefer a simple world. Bullies prefer an easy target. Not even halfway through the first year of middle school, Trash had been marked. For the next three years, he had to deal with the mocking and the laughter, the constant insults and cruel childish pranks.
The school had strict anti-bullying rules, and the hazing was never to the level of the news stories. There was never any physical violence, perhaps because he was actually larger than all of his tormentors. But Trash never had a moment when he felt like he could be accepted. At every opportunity, his bullies cut him down and undermined him. Mocked his name, his appearance, and moat of all, his family situation. But what they didnt know was that as mean as they tried to be, it was nothing compared to what he received from his own blood.
Trash took the ostracizing in silence. He hoped that, eventually, the bullies would get bored and move on to someone else, but they never did. Still, as mean as the bullies were, it was the isolation from the others in the class that cut him harder.
He became a total outcast. No one would speak to him outside of an order from the teacher. Even the teachers tended to ignore him. He would sometimes go days without uttering a single coherent sentence.
Because of that, his language skills dropped. He received poor grades and was identified as an underachiever. His chance of getting accepted into a decent high school, or even one he could afford, was laughable, so he was forgotten by everyone.
Except for one person. Pazu.
Pazu was a classic geek. He was quite ill growing up. Because of his sickness, he couldnt run or participate in sports and was even bedridden from time to time. His parents doted on him and worried constantly, indulging in him in any way they could.
This allowed Pazu to embrace his passion. He was obsessed with anime and manga. Posters of anime characters and comic books filled his room. His nickname was drawn from the hero of his favorite animated movie, and he idolized all the protagonists of the stories that he consumed with an insatiable hunger.
After he was bullied for his appearance, he wanted to quit school. He even mentioned it to his parents one day, and they contemplated pulling him out and putting him into a private school. But the suddenly, it just stopped. The bullies never bothered him again. It was like they forgot he ever existed.
It didnt take long to realize what had happened. He had been replaced with a shinier toy. Someone who didnt represent a threat, but who made the bullies feel more justified in their activities.
The big, quiet kid just took it. He never fought back, and though he was obviously disheartened, he kept coming back every day.
Just watching it tormented Pazu. He wished that he could have withstood the tormenting, or fought back like the heroes in his favorite stories. He wished he could suddenly get strong enough to protect himself and everyone else who got bullied. But that wasnt reality. He knew he was weak, and he feared regaining the attention of his former tormentors. He kept quiet and watched along with the rest of the class as the quiet boy suffered in silence.
By the second year of school, the social order was locked in stone. Trash was at the very bottom. Pazu was on the sidelines. A generic kid in the class. Neither had any friends, but at least the other students would speak to Pazu.
Pazu had learned to keep his interests to himself. While everyone watched animated movies and TV shows, or read comic books, it wasnt considered normal to talk about them constantly. That was primary school behavior. Classroom interests were now more diverse. People talked about bands and sporting events. Lunchtime conversations would shift from the new issue of Shonen Jump to the antics of variety show celebrities to the latest appearance of Hideki Matsui in the American major leagues.
Fearing being labeled by his classmates, Pazu kept quiet most of the time and just followed the flow of the other kids. Only his parents called him Pazu; to everyone else, he was Hiro, or Hiroyuki. Most of his classmates just referred to him more formally by using his last name, Takeda.
While he had grown a bit stronger physically, he was still small, and because of that, he was excused from joining the athletic clubs. Instead, his parents told the school he went to after-school tutoring, so that he could leave after the last class. In truth, he just came home and read more manga and watched more anime. He never had great grades, but managed to stay around the class average, keeping scrutiny off of his hobbies.
His parents continued to let him choose his own path. Things could have been worse for Pazu, but he was generally diligent and, for an anime-obsessed geek, had very high emotional intelligence. He found that he was good at reading the emotions of the people around him. Possibly because he spent much of his time, just watching and observing.
He tried not to abuse the freedom he was given, and managed to get acceptable grades, and even looked at attending a good high school.
It wasnt until the end of the second year of middle school that the paths of these two strange boys would intersect.
Trash had to pick up a stamp from his grandfathers factory. His father was supposed to do it, but had been too drunk to go out, so he gave trash some cash to take the train to Akihabara.
Trash was eager to go. He had grown up in Setagaya and rarely ever left. Traveling downtown was a treat, even if it was just a simple errand for his grandfather.
He hadnt even left the station before getting lost. Instead of exiting onto the street, he found himself in a small shopping center with no idea how he got there. He wandered around, trying to find an exit, but soon found himself in the largest toy store he had ever seen.
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The toys were amazing. There were rows and rows of Gundam models. He and his father had put one together once when he was younger. He had no idea that there were so many different kinds.
For a toy store, it was strangely specific. There were no baby toys or dolls. It was full of giant monster figures, robots, and live-action sci-fi toys. It was like a new world to Trash, and he wandered around, amazed at all the new things he never even knew existed.
Thats when he ran right over a small boy who was crouched in front of a section full of paints specific to coloring Gundam robot models.
He hadnt even seen the boy, and practically fell on top of him. He tried to apologize but found his tongue tied, so as they untangled from each other, he prepared to run away and escape the store somehow.
know you. From school. Youre-
N-no. Youre mistaken.
Trash blurted it out, but as he did, he got a good look at the boy. He did know him.
S-ssorry. I didnt see you.
The boy was small, but Trash realized they were the same age. It was one of his classmates. The one who used to get bullied.
What are you doing here?
Trash was conflicted. He still felt the desire to run, but the boy wasnt intimidating, nor did he look upset that he had fallen on top of him.
Just a family errand.
He was surprised to see that the boy looked disappointed.
W-why are you here?
Trash winced. He stammered a bit when he was nervous. The boy didnt seem to notice at all, however.
I come here a lot. To look at all the stuff. The stores here have much more cool stuff, dont you think so?
He thought for a moment, then nodded.
Have you ever built a Gundam model? They have every kit ever made here, I think.
It was strange. He had never even said a word to this boy, but now he was talking so excitedly. For the first time he could remember, he wasnt intimidated by his peers, though it was hard to be scared of a boy half his size, even if he was the same age.
Yeah, I made one once with my dad.
Really? Which one? Was it a HG?
Huh? I dont know. It was a Gundam, though. I never watched the show. I dont know all the names.
Oh, theres lots of shows. Wait, was it this one?
The boy ran around the corner and into another aisle. A second later, he returned with a box in his hands.
Is it this it?
Trash looked at the painted picture on the top of the box. It did look similar to the one he had made. White, with blue and red parts and a head that looked like a samurai helmet.
He nodded.
Yeah, I think so.
Figures. For your first kit, it should be this one. Its the original.
Whats it called?
RX-78C2 Gundam.
Huh? What kind of name is that? Its just numbers.
Thats whats so cool. Its like real life. They have model numbers and stuff. Its not like the kid shows where they yell stuff, and the robot moves. The pilot drives it like a car or a jet plane.
Trash couldnt remember ever having a conversation like this. He had seen the others in the class talk like that, about music, manga, and baseball. But the quiet, short kid who never really talked to anyone in school was now enthusiastically explaining things like a teacher.
You should try building this one. I just finished making it. Its called a Dom. They are the elite bad guys, but I think the design is way more interesting.
As interesting as it was, Trash remembered he had to go to the factory before it got too late.
Um. Sorry
Then he paled as he realized he couldnt remember the boys name.
Oh! Sorry. We havent spoken before, right? I should introduce myself. My name is Takeda, Hiroyuki Takeda. You can call me Hiro or Yuki
The boy suddenly frowned slightly, as though he was trying to make a difficult decision.
Since we met here, youre kind of my comrade, so you can call me Pazu.
Pazu?
Yeah like-
Balse!
This time there was both shock and delight apparent on Pazus face.
Yeah! You like that movie? Its my favorite.
Trash chuckled.
Yeah, I watch it whenever its on the Sunday Roadshow. Its one of my favorite movies too.
Whats your favorite?
Hmmm. The Crimson Pig, maybe?
A pig that doesnt flyPazu read the line out dramatically.
Is just an ordinary pig. Trash finished the quote.
Pazu laughed with a huge grin.
Then, as if remembering something troubling, Pazus face fell.
Umm. What should I call
Trash grimaced. No one ever asked him what he wanted to be called. He didnt have a nickname. There was his given name, but only his father and his teachers used it. He hated it most of all.
The kids at school had called him many things, but most of those were just a variation of his name, mocking him. Now, most of them had just started calling him Trash.
They call me Trash, I guess thats fine, he said with a grimace.
Really? I think its a pretty cool nickname. Like a character from an anime. Its cool to have names written in katakana. Yeah, Trash, is pretty cool. You sure its okay?
That took Trash by surprise. He knew what the word meant. Where those idiots in school had picked it up, he had no idea. But when he heard Pazu describe it like that, it did kind of sound cool. Much better than his own name, at least.
Uh, yeah, Thats cool. Youre right, it is kind of cool. A little bit.
Ok, Trash, you said you were running errands? Where do you need to go?
Oh shit, I mean, Yeah, I need to go. I have to pick up something from my Grandfathers factory before they lock the building. Actually, I got lost and ended up here.
Huh? Where is it?
Just off of Showa Street. Ive been there before, but I got all turned around in the station.
Ahh, yeah. You need to get out on the Showa Street exit. You must have found the hidden Akihabara Department Store entrance.
Hidden entrance?
Yeah, not many people know there is a direct exit into this place. Most people use the Electric Town or Showa street exits. Congratulations! You found a secret!
Trash smiled. He liked the sound of that. It was a silly, useless thing, but he liked the idea of having something rare.
Here, Ill show you how to get there. It can be tricky with all the construction going on these days.
In the end, Pazu went with him all the way to the factory and waited while Trash ran in to find the seal. He was a little embarrassed to have his new friend see the place. It was an old, Showa era workshop that made some kind of metal fittings for who knows what.
Calling it a factory was being generous. It was just an old building, about the size of a small two-story house, on a tiny lot near the train tracks. The factory hadnt been active for years, but they still had an old man who watched over the place during the day, and his Grandfather stored tons of old junk there. It seemed like a huge waste of money to Trash.
As the left, Pazu exploded in excitement.
Thats so cool! You have a base in Akihabara! Im so jealous! It took forever to convince my parents to let me come out here by myself. They are so overprotective sometimes. Man, someday Im gonna have a house here. That way, I could always go out without having to take the train. Theres so much cool stuff here. Do you still have time? Want to check out Asobit City?
The small boy was so excited, it was infectious. Trash knew if he was late getting back, he might get in trouble, but there was also a chance his dad would be out drinking, or just sleeping in the house. As long as he got back before too late, he was sure he would be fine.
Sure. Ive got time.
Cool! I know a shortcut to the main street. We can cut through the construction sites from here. Man Akiba is full of construction these days. Big, huge towers like downtown. I bet in a few years, this will be the coolest place in Tokyo!
Akiba?
Oh, thats what the locals call it. Cool, huh?
Yeah Pretty cool.
During the summer break before their last year in middle school, Trash and Pazu would spend a lot of time wandering the streets of Akihabara.
Trash mentioned to his dad that he could help take care of the old factory, and while his dad might have been a bit suspicious, he was more than happy to let Trash take care of things for him, and even provided him with an allowance for train fare.
In the end, taking away that responsibility and spending all that time out of the house might have been yet one more thing that led his father on his final descent.
By the end of Trashs last year in middle school, his father was gone.
Pazu got into a fairly good high school not far from his house, but Trash didnt have the grades or the test scores. Instead, his grandfather agreed to let him stay in the apartment on top of the Akihabara factory, as long as he attended a nearby vocational school. That way, they could let the old man who watched the place retire.
This arrangement was perfectly fine with Trash. Now, he could stay in Akihabara, and Pazu could hang out whenever he had free time. Pazu was actually green with jealousy when he found out about it.
Finally, about a year ago, Pazu finally fulfilled his dream, well mostly.
He managed to get a loan, with the help of his parents, to buy a small condo with a business space attached, just between Ueno and Akihabara. He had big plans, and Trash had been eager to help in any way he could. Now, the two of them could hang out like they used to talk about when they were younger.
But as soon as everything looked like it was coming together, it all started to unravel. He was losing the apartment in just a week. With no money and nowhere to go, Trash was forced to take a huge gamble.
Now, he had to do something he had been putting off for months. He had to tell his best friend what was happening. Not only that, but he had to do it while also asking him for a huge favor.
Trash stared at his friend, who was patiently waiting for an explanation. Trash rarely showed up uninvited. Usually, it was the opposite. When they wanted to hang out, Pazu would typically come over and stop at the factory.
So, whats up? Pazu asked while peeking into the kitchen.
Saki, make a plate of that, will you? I think Trash is about to pass out.
Well, Trash started to explain, its kind of a long story.
Chapter Nine: Are You A Professional Moron Or Just A Gifted Amateur?
Chapter Nine: Are You A Professional Moron Or Just A Gifted Amateur?
I think the HDMI splitter is fried.
Trash had already tried everything. Then he had pulled out all the connections and reset everything again. Camera three would just not come online.
The camera and cables all checked out, so that left only the splitter.
Sorry, I got a cheap crapgadget one from that Chinese no-brand discount shop. I should have known it would die. Ill replace it with something better.
Seriously, Trash. Man, dont worry about it. Well take care of it later. Im still not sure Im ready to livestream. Its a lot more pressure, and Im doing fine with YouTube for now.
For now, Trash reconnected everything. He would check at home to see if he had anything that might work temporarily until he could replace the switch.
Anyway, thanks. Im sure well get it running soon. In the meantime, I need to think about how to livestream. Its a lot more pressure, and you need to plan more, and theres the marketing-
Stupid owner! I told you Ill take care of the marketing
Both Trash and Pazu cringed, then looked at each other. Saki was standing in the doorway with a scowl on her face.
Trash tried to identify her current appearance, but this one totally escaped him.
She was in all black today. Some kind of gothic look, with white powder makeup contrasting with her black lipstick and some weird eye shadow. There was also a black tear-like shape painted by her left eye.
Her hair was long and straight, but she did something to make it super glossy, and he could see each strand move separately whenever she moved. Her outfit was, if anything, understated, all things considered.
She had on dark, skin-tight jeans and a thick black belt with a giant silver buckle. On top, she only had a plain black tank top with spaghetti straps, then a black leather jacket over it. The most eye-catching part was a necklace with a large, silver cross pendant. Well, it looked like a cross at first, but the top part was a loop, making it look more like a stick figure of an angel or something like that. From the way it gleamed, Trash could tell that it was handmade. Either she had fashioned it herself, or she had one of her
people do it.
What are you staring at, freeloader? Gross.
Saki, lay off Trash. Hes got some stuff going on now it seems. Pazu tried to intervene.
What? Did they lose his order of perverted Samus Aran figures? Did the market fall out on Bayonetta boobie mousepads?
Each blow struck Trash hard, if only because the accusations were not far off the mark, but he didnt show any reaction. This kind of thing was normal and could hardly rise to the level of abuse after all he had been through.
Saki! Really. Thats enough! Trash is trying to help me fix the setup.
Fix it? Hes the idiot who built this mess in the first place. Its a crap setup, with crap parts. I told you that I know a guy who can build out a professional rig. The kind the top streamers use.
That costs a fortune. You know I cant afford that. Besides, Im just starting, so theres no problem if I keep it simple for now.
You gotta go big from the start. If you dont, no one will take you seriously. The freeloader is just throwing cheap parts together and praying it works, AND IT DOESNT!
Enough! Saki! Hana-
Her eyes bulged, then she spun around and disappeared out the door. It was a soft-close door, the type that gently closed by themselves that you sometimes see in restaurants, but somehow, Trash could hear it slam shut.
If there were anyone in the world who hated their real name more than Trash, Saki would take that position easily.
Man, you really need to get a new waitress.
For reals.
Youre going to pay for that, you know? Trash said sympathetically.
Yeah. Pazu agreed, a fatalistic expression on his face.
Still sleeping with her.
Yup.
Fuckin normie.
Shut your mouth.
They shared a grin, then Trash covered up the equipment box.
She has a point, though. You really should get a pro to do this. Someone who can make your videos look more professional.
What are you saying? I made the top 1,000 last month. I think Im doing pretty well already.
Really? No way. Thats awesome! Congratulations! Why didnt you say something?
Pazu had been working hard on his channel. Trash knew it was getting more traction, but making the top one thousand vloggers in the country was a very big deal.
Trash was reminded of something one of his home-room teachers told his class back in high school.
There are three ways to find your path in life.
The first is to do what other people tell you. Thats what nearly everyone does. Its easy, and you dont have to be responsible for the outcome. If you are unhappy later, you can always blame someone else. Your parents, your friends, or your homeroom teacher.
The second way is to find out what you love. Work your ass until you are good enough that people will pay you for it. They say if you do what you love, youll never work a day in your life.
The third is just the opposite. First, find out what you are good at. Work at it until you are the best, the best in the world. Then, charge a ton and make it rich. Retire to some island and die in a bed with a prostitute. I call that the Duke Togo path.
It was not that surprising that this teacher was fired later for dating one of his students. Still, that might have been the only lesson that stuck with Trash from his entire time at that school.
Pazu was on the second path. Not just on it, he was killing it. He searched for what he wanted to do. He was smart and good at lots of things, but when he found the path he wanted to pursue, he poured everything he had into it until there was no way he was not going to be a huge success.
Things were different for Trash. Nobody told him what to do. No one seemed to care as long as he did it away from them. He had no idea what he wanted to do. He didnt even like what he did now, to tell the truth. Especially right at this moment.
If there was something that he was good at, it was a mystery. Maybe English, but he hated being around people. He couldnt see a career built on language that didnt force him to work with people.
Thats amazing! How did you get there so fast? I thought you said it would take a while.
Well, you get a lot of the credit. Despite what Saki said, the videos we make now look great. The big thing was your idea, though.
Trash tilted his head to the side.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Huh?
English! You told me to add subtitles in English. Eighty percent of my views come from America alone. Then there is traffic from Europe and Southeast Asia.
Yeah, I thought you didnt want to do that. Trash recalled the suggestion he had made. Pazu was certainly unenthusiastic at the time.
Well, to be honest, I just didnt want you to do it.
What do you mean? I can do it. My English is way better than yours, at least.
I know! Pazu stepped back defensively.Its just, you know. Embarrassing to have you reading everything I say.
Trash stared at Pazu for a moment. Then started to laugh.
Youre an idiot.
He pushed Trash away from the counter.
Move over. Let me check the lighting. I bet you messed it up.
So, who is doing the translating? No way its her.
Hey! Watch your mouth, freeloader.
How did she move around so quietly? He wanted to say something about putting a bell around her neck, but realized that would be cause for his instant death.
Stop thinking rude things. Saki growled with a murderous look in her eyes.
Oh, its a friend of Sakis who is doing it. The translation. Shes a returnee. You met her, I think.
Huh?
At Comiket last summer. Shes a cosplayer.
Actually, you met her more recently, you pig!
Huh? Trash was completely confused now.
Saki pulled out her phone and scrolled through some messages.
Your boy here was playing down in Akiba, hitting up maid cafes with some hot foreigner.
Huh? You traitor! Why didnt you bring her here?
Not her, him. Check it out.
Saki passed the phone to Pazu, looked at the picture, then up at Trash.
Hmmm. Okay. Thats new. Anything you want to talk about, man? I mean, were all adults here, right?
Trash snatched the phone, and in the split second he held it before Saki grabbed it back, he saw the photo of himself, sitting with Danny, eating cake.
What the hell? How did you get this?
Hey! Dont worry. We wont judge.
Screw that. I am your judge, jury, and executioner. Confess!
Saki mimed checking the sharpness of a swordblade with her finger.
Trash reached out to take the phone back again.
Where was that taken? How did you get that?
Pazu grabbed it first.
Seriously? I mean, I know things have been tight lately, but I didnt think you would have to resort to I told you I could lend you some money if you need it.
N-no! Its not! I mean d-dammit!
Satsuki sent me that pic. She said you were playing around with some American guy. Flashing around piles of cash.
Huh? What are you up to? I was just kidding. Are you really doing something weird? Pazu looked actually concerned.
N-no! Whos Satsuki? How did you get that picture
Shes the translator. For the videos. Sakis friend. I told you, we saw her at Summer Comiket. She was the one dressed as Saber. You remember? The one with the big-
Saki smacked Pazu on the arm Hard.
Ow! sword! Big sword!
Trash tried to recall the event. On the second day, Pazu wanted to meet up with Saki in the cosplayer section. She was there with a group of other cosplayers, and there was a girl dressed as Saber. He couldnt really remember her much.
Then it clicked. That maid. The one at Cure. The one who spoke English. She was a returnee and a friend of Sakis and must have recognized him from Comiket Crap.
Defeated, Trash looked at the ground.
Fine!
What? Its true?
No! I mean, Fine, Ill tell you. I was going to tell you anyway. But now the story is all
Just start from the beginning. Saki, can you make tea?
Screw that, make your own tea. she retorted, then walked through the door back into the dining room.
She really is the worst waitress.
Yes, yes, she is. Pazu agreed, admiring her jeans as she left the kitchen.
When did you even get involved in this kind of crap? Pazu looked stern.
Trash had just explained the deal, and what was going on, but as he said it out loud, he realized how stupid he had been.
It just kinda happened. I dont know. Its the first time anything like this came up.
Messing around with Hansa? Are you nuts? Those big corpos are nasty. They do not mess around. Why would you even think this is a good idea? If they catch you.
He had never actually seen Pazu this upset. Trash knew that part of it was that he had kept it a secret. He knew Pazu might feel betrayed, but this reaction was stronger than he was expecting.
I never thought it was a good idea. I just I didnt have a choice. I needed the money, and I dont have time.
What do you mean? Just ask me. I told you. What do you mean you dont have the time? Do you owe someone money?
Not much I mean, thats not the problem.
Yup, thats what all those old guys parked on the benches over by JRA say. Saki threw in from her perch at the counter bar.
Im not gambling. Or drinking, or any of that kind of stuff. Yeah, I owe Takei for some figures he spotted me from the limited release But its not much, and he said I can pay it off anytime.
Gross. Bet they are perverted figures. Creep!
Look whos talking.
Trash regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips. No, even before then. He could feel them coming up his throat and tried desperately to prevent them from reaching the air where they would spread and cause his inevitable doom, but he was too late, slapping his hand over his mouth a fraction of a second after his fate was set.
Fucker! What did you say!?
All right. Everyone, take it easy. Pazu rose from the table and stood between Saki and Trash, trying to calm everyone down.
If thats it. Then that should be fine. What are you in for with Takei?
About 30,000.
Seriously? Thats nothing then. Why on earth would you try something this risky?
Trash stared down into his teacup.
Because thats not all, is it, freeloader? Saki predicted.
Trash close his eyes. This was it. His humiliation. He had lost everything. Telling his only friend made it real. It was now an indisputable fact.
Im getting kicked out. Im losing the factory.
Huh?
End of the month. I have to get out.
What?! Your uncle?
And my aunt. Both of them. Im totally screwed.
Why?
You know why, I mean, I know they hate me. What other reason do they need? Trash kept staring into the cup. It was a nice one. An expensive-looking one you get to use in trendy cafes. Well, that made sense after all.
Those fuckers! Pazu slammed his fist on the table.
Cant you delay it? Why now?
Trash shook his head. There was no point in hiding it anymore.
Its too late. They have been pushing me since the beginning of the year. I just kept I dont know, trying to wish it away.
Since you became a legal adult. What a bunch of unimaginative bastards. What about your grandfathers will? Didnt he leave you anything?
No. Nothing. You know. Theres no way he would.
Thats not right. It cant be legal. Ill ask my dad. Maybe we can get a lawyer.
Forget it. I fucked up. I just hid my head and tried to pretend it away.
Now that his secret was out, he felt an amazing calm. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end. He had pushed it up to the wire. Then his time ran out. The wire snapped.
Game Over.
Hey, Freeloader. Why did you come here?
Trash looked up. Saki looked different from her usual self. She wasnt asking him in an accusing manner. She actually appeared to be curious.
Pazu turned and scowled at her though.
Saki, cant you be a tiny bit compassionate?
No, I get it. I did come here with a reason. I wanted to ask for your help.
Yeah, sure, whatever you need. You can stay at my place while we-
Screw that. He stays at your place, Ill sleep somewhere else. Im not sleeping next to some creepy geek well, not a different one, at least. He can sleep at a netcafe.
The new calm that had come to his mind, changed how he heard her words. Somehow, he could tell there was no malice behind it. It was almost like she was trying to help.
Shes right. I need to I want to solve this myself If I can. But its true. I wanted to ask for a favor.
Pazu seemed confused. A moment ago, he expected the two people here to pull out knives, but the mood seemed completely different. He knew that if Saki didnt care about what happened to Trash, she wouldnt still be here in the room at all. Her presence here meant that she was invested. Maybe she just wanted to protect him, but she seemed almost curious. He sat down and let Trash continue.
There might be a way to save the deal. Sakamoto is being a total dick about the money. I cant think of any normal way that Danny can get that much cash, that quickly.
Dont look at me. No way I cant get that amount of cash right now. Maybe in a year or two, if my income from the channel keeps going up.
No, Id never ask you for money. I told you that years ago, and Ive never gone back on it. Id rather die on the street.
Doesnt stop you from eating his food, though.
Pazu turned again and shushed her.
Its not like Danny doesnt have the money. He has plenty. Hes a millionaire. Sold his dot com for tons and is now a big venture capitalist or whatever. He has the money in Singapore. I just need to find someone willing to make a swap or something like that. Someone who has cash, and might be happy to get a bank account in Singapore.
Trash stalled. Maybe it was a stupid idea. He was making a lot of strange assumptions now, and he knew it.
Im not sure what you are talking about. Sounds pretty sketchy, probably illegal. Who would want to get involved in something like that?
What about the old goat?
Huh?
You remember? The old man. You said he called himself the old goat?
Him? Takeshita Street? Are you serious?
Trash nodded.
Pazu bit his thumb. An old nervous tick.
Whos that? Saki hopped off the counter stool and sat next to Pazu.
I mean I suppose its not impossible. But
You said the old man liked you. I mean, it might not hurt just to ask Its not like its really that illegal; more like ethically questionable. If he says no, then I give up. Okay? Ill scrap the deal and try something else.
Who are you talking about? Saki demanded and pulled on Pazus sleeve.
The Old Goat of Takeshita Street I dont know. Thats a very heavy gate to open, and once you do
I know. Its its just the only thing I could think of.
Im going to make one last attempt to convince Sakamoto. But if it doesnt work, and Im not optimistic. I tried for hours last night. If he wont change his mind, do you think you can introduce me? Thats all. Just an introduction. Im serious. I dont want you pulled into this any more than that.
Who are you talking about? Tell me! Saki was pulling and pushing Pazu back and forth like a metronome.
Finally, he shrugged her off his arm.
Hes an old boss of mine. Sort of. I just worked for him for a couple of weeks.
Who is he? Some scary guy or something
Pazu turned to look her in the eyes.
Honestly, I dont know. Pazu explained.I didnt work there long, as I said. But Trash and I, we used to call him The Harajuku Godfather.
Saki burst out laughing. Then she noticed that neither Pazu nor Trash were laughing.
Seriously?
Chapter Ten: There Aint No Gettin Offa This Train We On!
Chapter Ten: There Aint No Gettin Offa This Train We On!
The main street was still full of people at 10 PM. This was not always the case in Akihabara. In fact, only a few years ago the streets of the Electric Town would have been all but abandoned by 7 PM. As part of an urban revival initiative, popular restaurants and entertainment venues had opened up, drawing customers to spend time and money after all the electronics shops had closed. Today, however, was special. It had a mood similar to a summer festival but lacked the fireworks, street food, and carnival games.
The late-night line-up was an Akihabara tradition, a rite of passage for true fans to show their passion and loyalty. Actually, it was mostly for show. In the internet age, it wasnt hard to find an easier way to get that popular product, even a limited edition release, online. Still, the tradition was alive and well in Akihabara, and tonight was due to be a record-breaker for crowd size.
Even Trash didnt know where the fad started. Perhaps from the huge lines of customers that formed in the 80s when the new Dragon Quest games were launched to overwhelming demand. It could have been the extremely limited drops of fanzine comics at Toranoana after the annual comiket or some similar rare fan goods. Now, it felt like there were lines every week. Lines to reserve AKB48 theater tickets, or to get special release-day-only perks like an invitation to a hand-shake meetup with a popular gravure idol promoting her new release.
Trash walked down the main street after leaving Pazus restaurant. It was starting to drizzle, as foreshadowed by the humidity and clouds earlier. He just put up his hood and kept walking. An umbrella on the crowded sidewalks was always troublesome. Already, the lines were forming, like clouds before a massive storm.
Tonight was a once-a-year convergence. There were lines visible across the town. A huge line in front of Yodobashi Camera, and another one in front of the big Sofmap on the corner by UDX. Smaller lines in front of a dozen other small and mid sized shops scattered around Akihabara.
Tomorrow morning was the widely anticipated launch of the iPhone 4. A global phenomenon that had upset the domination of domestic handset makers in Japan and changed the tastes of Japanese consumers in just a couple of years.
For those who absolutely needed to ensure that they had the coolest new phone on launch day, lining up was often the only way. With lines expected to reach over a thousand in front of some stores however, the earlier, the better, to ensure a shot at the finite stock.
In front of some of the biggest stores in Tokyo, lines had started forming a couple of days earlier, and in Akihabara, on the night before the launch, already hundreds of people were standing in neat and orderly lines for the stores to open the next morning.
Trash had heard that at the Apple Stores in Ginza, they had staffers passing out Apple-branded umbrellas and snacks to the people waiting in line. If they were doing that tonight, he would have liked to see if he couldnt obtain a few of those umbrellas. The brands popularity right now was sky-high.
Those lines for the iPhone were not his target tonight, however. He actually had a reservation for a new phone to replace his still, relatively new 3gs, last years model. He had lined up weeks ago to get that. All he had to do was walk in the shop and pick up his new phone, after paying for it of course. Right now, however, paying anything to replace a perfectly good, working phone was an easy thing for him to pass up.
He was aiming for one of the lines, though, but a much smaller and different type of line altogether. At one of the smaller Sofmap satellite stores on the main street, a much more humble line had formed.
This line was waiting for the launch of Love+Plus. An updated version of a popular dating simulation game for the Nintendo DSi. The game was a mix of dating simulation and Tamagotchi virtual pet. Players would interact with a 3d model of one of three young girls to gain their favor using the built in touchscreen and camera on the game machine. Being Nintendo, the content was rather tame, but it obviously catered to a very specific type of fan.
Trash had watched the development of the series closely. It had all the markers of a great kusoge. It was expensive, with huge development costs, it was in a niche genre, and the games were bug-prone and difficult to navigate. Not only was it hard to develop, but there were three separate versions for sale, not counting the special editions that sold with limited editions game machines. Each version only had one of three possible partners programmed into it. Completionists would have to buy all three.
Its rabid fanbase kept Konami, the games publisher, spitting out new versions at a steady pace, but they also quickly started showing up on the second-hand market, as all but the die-hard fans quickly tired of the novelty and tried to recoup their expenses before the market fell. Availability was already fluctuating, and soon, Trash predicted that some of the games would start to get rare and difficult to find.
Trash would stockpile cartridges of games like this when the sell-offs peaked, and he could pick them up for a song. Then he waited. These games would never be reprinted, and with age, they would eventually disappear.
There were currently only a half dozen people in line in front of the Sofmap Entertainment Annex, the video game specialty outlet that would be hosting a large launch event the next morning. Sakamoto stood there, the third person in line. A die hard Manaka Takane fan, there was no way he was going to miss this launch event.
Sakamoto had an odd style. Atypical even for the geek-chic fashion that was the norm on the streets of Akihabara, he considered himself a Showa-era dandy. He was average height, with an average build, but he looked like he would fit in better at some retro style barbershop than a launch-day late-night line-up in the geek capital of Japan. His hair was greased and slicked back into an onyx duckbill covering his neck. He had a thin face, but black, thick-rimmed glasses magnified his eyes, giving him an almost comical appearance. The pink, striped office shirt and brown suspenders holding up slacks that were short at the ankles completed the image of a different kind of social outcast than was the local standard.
He carried a cheap old see-through umbrella. The kind that would be tossed on a garbage pile after the rain stopped because the thin tines had already warped or snapped.
Trash thought he looked like a fool. Still, Sakamoto had been one of his most reliable customers.
So what did he say?
What do you think he said? I told you there was no way he could get that much cash. Hes a foreigner. There are laws about traveling with too much cash, Trash spoke in a low whisper, moving closer to prevent his voice from being lost by one of the few cars driving by.
Sakamoto spoke loudly, seemingly without concern about who could overhear him on the busy street. This was a place where he felt as safe as in his own home.
Cant he just transfer the money by bank transfer?
Theres limits there, too. If you send too much, the police check out what you are doing, sending so much money to another country.
Well, then how was I supposed to get the money back here?
We already went over this part, remember?
We did? I dont remember that.
Trash was losing his patience. They had already discussed this several times, including the last evening. Sakamoto was a genius, at least that was according to himself. He designed the Sound Princess, after all. But it was like his brain could only hold certain types of information. Anything that wasnt something he cared deeply about just evaporated from his brain.
We did. He already has the money. Its in a corporate bank account in Singapore. You can transfer smaller amounts over time, or just leave it there and just get a house or something down there. I dont know. You said you were fine with it.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
I did? Thats funny. I dont see why I would agree to that. They said they were going to do an audit. They want to know what I did with the R&D money.
Whos they?
Hansa finance department. HR too. They said its part of the departmental reorganization, but I know they are looking for something to blame on me.
This was a mess. Sakamoto was a mess. With all this going on, hes outside, lining up all night to buy a dating sim girlfriend? Trash was starting to tremble. He didnt know if he was angry, or tired, or scared. The stress was far more than he could deal with, and Sakamoto was out of his mind.
It was a stupid, desperate idea, and now everything was falling apart. If he hadnt been so desperate, he would never have even entertained the idea. Instead, he had wasted days, weeks, trying to pull this deal together, only to have it all fall apart at the last minute. He had been so close, but now it seemed doomed to fail, leaving him with nothing, just days before he lost his house.
Are you okay?
Trash stared at Sakamoto. Part of him wanted to strangle the man. Of course, he wasnt okay.
Cant you just go with the plan? What if they search your house and find the cash? Isnt that just as bad? Maybe even worse?
No, no. Thats fine. I know where to hide it. Thats right! Thats why I cant take the money by transfer. There would be records. Paper trail. Cash is safe. Untraceable.
But its not untraceable when we bring it into the country, right? So how do we get the money into Japan?
The anger in his voice surprised even himself. He never got mad like this. Never fought back. But he had never been this flustered or desperate before.
Trash realized he was not angry at Sakamoto. This time, he couldnt blame anyone else. It wasnt his moms fault, or his dads. It wasnt even his Uncle, or Aunt. He was the one who didnt use the time wisely. He was the one who staked his future on a pipe dream. He put himself in the situation, and he was the one who gambled on this crazy scheme.
And it had all fallen through; predictably. Maybe if he had told Pazu months ago, or even weeks ago when Sakamoto told him about this stupid plan, then perhaps Pazu would have talked him out of it.
Lets go get something to drink. I need a smoke too, Sakamoto put his hand on Trashs shoulder.
There was an etiquette to the lines. Of course, people had human needs. Its not like you could pee in a bottle, not on the main road in the middle of the LED light capital of the world.
Veterans maintained a social structure with customs and rules. When you needed a break, you just tapped the guys in front and behind. Let them know, and all was good. When you get back, maybe bring them a can of coffee, or offer them a cigarette. Later on, they would ask for the same treatment. No one ever complained, as long as you didnt stay away too long.
Sakamoto led them around to the alley on the side of the building. Further off the main street, there was an empty lot. Half a dozen people were standing there, under an old awning, the red glow from their cigarettes lighting up their faces. A couple of them also had handheld game consoles lighting up the lot with dim flashes of light. They must have been playing some fighting game or RPG.
Look, I get it. But cant you guys figure something out? Its just too risky right now. Maybe after the audi-
Dannys not going to wait that long. Hes already got guys in Singapore ready to take apart the code and build some new systems. He needs it now.
He what?
Hes doing some new start-up down in Singapore. You knew that, right?
Sakamotos face went from surprised to concerned.
He shouldnt show it to anyone else. If anyone tracks it back to me. What if Hansa gets their hands on it?
Trash wanted to scream. How could someone so smart be so incredibly stupid? What did he think was going on? Did he believe Danny was paying him that much money to put it up on a shelf like an anime figure?
Thats the thing about obsessive geeks. They had no sense of value or consequences. They live for their passion, and ignore the rest.
He hadnt even said the words out loud, but still, the thought passing through his brain shook him. His uncle had used those exact words to criticize him. Trash had to admit he lived in this world that defied common sense. That celebrated the fact that they had rejected the normie life. It was hypocritical to attack it now that it worked against him.
Look, I know you have concerns, but if you want the deal to happen, you have to compromise. Its just not reaso-
Cash. Nothing else makes sense.
Back to this again. Trash lowered his head in defeat. He had done what he could. Sakamoto wouldnt budge.
Fine. Ill tell him. If we figure something out, Ill let you know.
If he doesnt go through with it, he needs to give me back the hardware, Sakamoto warned.
If he doesnt go through with it, you can fucking get it yourself, Trash spat out. He was sick of this. Sick of everyone just worrying about themselves.
He was no different, of course, but he had no power. These rich guys, guys with abilities, influence, futures. Even Pazu
Trash stopped himself short of that cliff. Of course, he had been jealous of Pazu, many times. But for everything that Pazu had, that he coveted, abilities, resources, even a girl
He had sworn he would not turn his jealousy against the only person who had always stuck up for him. The one person he knew would have his back.
Trash turned and started to move away. Sakamoto called out to him, but didnt budge an inch from under the awning. With his lit cigarette between his fingers. He didnt even take a step outside the lot as Trash walked away.
Trash kept walking past the line of guys waiting in the Love+Plus line. It had already grown by a couple of people. He crossed the main road and walked past the Flagship Sofmap on the corner.
The line there was stretching around the building and was already many times longer than the one for the Love+plus launch; as expected. Once the trains started running in the morning, the lines would all explode in size. The news and camera crews would show up. In just a couple of years, the new iPhone craze was already a major event. Trash used to revel in events like this, but today he didnt have the heart to watch it unfold.
He stopped in front of the main entrance of the giant electronics store. On the curb, he could still see the remains of the makeshift shrine that had been there for the last couple of weeks. There had been a mountain of flowers and cards here just a few days before.
It gave him chills remembering the massacre that had taken place on this spot two years prior. The knife attack. Things in Akihabara had changed after that. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it felt that people were now more wary, more shut off. An impressive task for a town known for introverts, shut-ins, and social misfits.
They didnt close off the main street on Sundays anymore, and on weekends, bands of retired old men walked the pavement, on the lookout for public order violations. Perhaps one of the most shocking changes was the giant new Aoki Suits store down the block that had opened up a few months back. It was like a declaration of war by the normies. A demand that they give up their selfish ways and get a suit and report for incarceration in some mindless job.
Trash kept walking, heading for the tracks. If things had gone differently, he would already be lined up in front of one of these buildings, Maybe to get the new iPhone, or to try to nab some of the promotional goods. Those standups at the Love+Plus launch were nice. Life-size swimming suit versions of all three main characters from the game. He was sure he could make a bundle off of a set of those.
Pulling his phone out, he sent off a quick text to his contact at Konami. Who knows, maybe he could use that to leverage Sakamoto.
After passing under the train tracks, Trash turned north towards his place. Even now, after most of the northside construction had been completed, the area by the tracks was spooky at night.
His phone started to buzz, and he noticed that he had just received two text messages.
The first was from Decker, his contact at Konami that he had just contacted. He worked with the marketing team, but also had an addiction to trading card games. In exchange for procuring some rare cards, Desk had managed to get Trash some pretty good promotional materials in the past.
DECKER [Manaka, 20,000, Rinko 15,000, Nene, 20,000, 1 Set 50,000.]
Holy shit!
TRASH [Seriously?]
DECKER [Serious. These are super hot! Not even sure I can get them. Other guys are already aiming.]
Trash thought about it. At that price, it would be hard to make a profit. On the other hand
TRASH [Manaka is must get]
DECKER [25,000 guaranteed]
TRASH [Bastard!]
DECKER [Deal?]
TRASH [Deal.]
Well, what damage could one more bad decision cause?
DECKER [Will msg when confirmed. Cash or Cards.]
TRASH [Send your list]
DECKER [Yessir]
Ok, that was good. He was willing to take trade in trading cards. He should be able to reduce the cash expense.
With this, he was armed for another round with Sakamoto, if it came to that anyway.
Checking the next message, Trash stopped in mid-step.
PAZU [Sent word to Old Goat]
PAZU [Possible]
PAZU [Meet tomorrow, 11, Bring Hot Guy]
PAZU [Denmark Street Records]
Following that message was a Google Maps link to a record shop on Takeshita Street.
PAZU [What did Sakamoto say?]
PAZU [Can cancel if not needed.]
PAZU [What do you want to do?]
TRASH [Ill go.]
He took a moment. Taking a deep breath, Trash felt the oxygen energize his brain. This was it. One last all-or-nothing gamble. Well, he really had nothing left to lose. He added one final message to Pazu before continuing his walk home.
TRASH [39C]
The roads on this side of the tracks were empty, and all the shops closed. Only a few dim streetlights illuminated the way. Above him, Trash could hear the sound of the train passing overhead. He had been listening to the trains so long that he could even tell the cars of the Yamanote Loop line apart from the Keihin-Toyoko Line by sound.
Trash enjoyed these quiet moments that he shared only with Akihabara itself. He couldnt imagine leaving it, even for some other place in Tokyo. He may not know what it was that he wanted to do, but he knew where he wanted to be. This was the only place in the world he could call home.
End Part I:
Chapter Eleven: I Woke Up This Morning and I Just Hated Everything.
Part II: S (The Old Goat)
You cant always get what you want. But if you try, sometimes, you might find, you get what you need.
-Mick Jagger, Keith Richards
Chapter Eleven: I Woke Up This Morning and I Just Hated Everything.
June 24, 2010
The phone was beeping again.
Trash rolled over on the bed, located the offending device, then attempted to crack open his eyes to check the time. This turned out to be a harder task than he expected it to be.
His eyes simply did not want to part and allow light to sear his brain. Trash wanted to agree with his eyes, but he remembered that he had something to do today.
Something he did not want to do.
Trash longed to adopt the lifestyle of a stereotypical shut-in. Simply living in a single room, never letting the sun touch his skin. Food left on a tray in front of his door. Sneaky midnight trips to the bathroom to avoid awkward hallway encounters.
That was the life to have, just not the life he had.
Cursing inwardly, Trash squeezed open one eye, then the other. Light invaded his peaceful world of dreams as the real world slowly took control of his senses.
It was indeed morning. Light filtered into the only window in the room through ancient window blinds. Now that his senses were active, he could hear all the noise. Trucks on the street below, The trains were zipping back and forth just above the window line.
When he first started sleeping here, he couldnt get a full nights sleep at all due to the train noise. There was only a four-hour gap between the last train and the first train every day. Now, he wondered if he could ever learn to sleep without the comforting low rumble.
He even slept with the window open during the summer. The morning air was still cool, but it would soon turn hot and stuffy.
Trash looked at the phone in his hands.
It read 9:23. He had set the alarm for 9 AM the night before. In retrospect, that was too early. He still had time.
Unlocking the phone, he checked for messages.
A quick filter got rid of the junk and the ads. That just left the ones from Danny.
[Ryo is an asshole. Screw him!]
Five minutes later, another message.
[Fucker can lose out for all I care. Ill find someone else.]
Another ten minutes elapsed before the next message.
[SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!!!!]
Trash scrolled down. This went on for quite a while.
The last message came in shortly after 7 AM.
[Talked to investors. Need the code or I am fucked. See you at Harajuku @ 10:30]
Trash sighed. He checked the train schedule app on his phone. He had to leave the Apartment by 9:41, then catch the 9:54 Chuo-line westbound. That should put him at Harajuku at exactly 10:30.
He had plenty of time. Sitting up in bed, he shook the remains of sleep from his head. He stood up and stretched a few times. Things with his body were still fine; getting up wasnt a problem, but if his body went the way his fathers did, he was sure that wouldnt last for too many years.
Avoiding alcohol might help, though. Trash took pride in his ability to abstain from drinking and smoking. Mostly, it was because it seemed like a waste of money to him.
He walked over to the small kitchenette. It was just an old sink and a cheap refrigerator, though. The sink was original from when the building was constructed, an old industrial-style sink, but that worked well for him. It was big enough for him to stick his whole head in and run it to wake up.
The water was freezing. The only heated water he had was in the bathroom on the first floor.
After washing his face and drying off with a hand towel, Trash grabbed a can of room-temperature coffee from a box beside the refrigerator. A few shakes and breakfast was served.
He realized that the coffee and instant noodle diet was probably undoing all the benefits of an alcohol and tobacco-free lifestyle, but he had to get some calories from somewhere.
Rummaging through the piles of clothes on the bed and the floor, he found a clean-ish shirt and the last of his clean underwear. Hed need to make a laundry run soon. After he dressed and downed the coffee, he checked the time.
9:39
How was that even possible? Why did time in the morning always go three times faster?
He technically brushed his teeth. More like gargled for a few seconds with toothpaste water, but he was late. He grabbed his jacket and bag.
Luckily, he remembered to shut the window. Whenever he forgot, he came back to bugs or sometimes birds trying to take over the space.
His shoes were outside his bedroom door. The first floor was an old workshop, after all. He had to wear slippers when he went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Slipping on the shoes, he ran down the stairs, then out the front door of the factory.
It was a small, two-story building, the site of his Grandfathers old abandoned business. It had been vacant as long as he could remember. Vacant, but hardly empty.
The first floor was full of old machinery. Not modern stuff, but old hand-powered tools. Trash didnt even know what they used to make. Some gear or metal fitting that nobody used anymore. He had no idea why the family hadnt sold off the factory years ago. Instead, they used it as a dumping ground for old junk. The second floor had the room that Trash used as an apartment, and another, larger room that was packed with who knows what. Boxes and old junk.
Once, a few years back, Trash had thought up a plan to search through the mess. Maybe there was some hidden treasure, or valuables that had been stored there and forgotten.
After half an hour, he gave up. It was all worthless garbage. Why it wasnt just tossed out, he had no idea. Old broken furniture, mountains of ancient moldy magazines, boxes full of suspicious looking machine oil.
He had once had ideas of cleaning it all out. Maybe turning the space into a store of some kind. His uncle had quickly shot down that plan.
Youre nowhere near the station. Facing the train tracks. No foot traffic at all, and what do you think you are going to sell? To open a store, you have to make something. Produce something useful. Stop wasting your life and stop mooching off of your family.
His uncle was a normal, boring salaryman. An assistant director blahblahblah at some pointless, soulless company, doing something so boring, Trash had no idea what it was, in spite of hearing his uncle drone on about it countless times.
His aunt was a housewife. She had married some faceless robot at the company she had worked at shortly after college. Now, she spent her time turning her two future robots into respectable members of society, and trading investments with her housewife investment club. They both hated Trashs father, the youngest child, and their disdain for him had seamlessly transferred to Trash.
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Now, they were finally getting rid of him. In less than a week, he had to move out of this place that had been his home for five years.
Trash locked the front door. A plain-looking glass door underneath a faded, painted wooden sign that read,
Ooba Industries (Co.Ltd.)
Looking down at his phone, Trash cursed.
9:42
He was going to have to run.
As the train pulled into Harajuku Station, Trash checked the time again.
10:27
Well, at least he wasnt late this time. Still, knowing the American, Danny was probably outside waiting for him.
Trash ran up the stairs, then over the elevated bridge, then back down the steps that led to the exit.
Exiting the ticket gate, he immediately spotted Danny and quickly rushed over to meet him.
Sorry, I should have gotten here sooner.
Dont worry about it. Just got here, in fact.
Trash was wondering if that was true when Danny pulled a slip of paper out from his jacket pocket and showed it to him.
See, I got here right on time, no problem at all. Tokyo is crazy easy to get around, isnt it?
Trash looked at the paper. Written in a very clean, and somewhat feminine script was a set of instructions on how to get on the train at Yurakucho, which platform and train to board, and where to exit, complete with a miniature map and a timetable for the train. At the bottom of the paper was a personal note.
Thank you for staying at the Victoria Hotel, Mr. Landis. We hope you enjoy your stay in Tokyo??
Trash had no difficulty imagining some cute receptionist at the hotel cheerfully crafting the directions while Danny waited in the lobby. The heart at the end was a bit too gregarious, though.
This is the old-school style. Before everyone had cellphones, it was hard to get around, so people would draw maps and help with the trains.
Its really not that hard. I got here with no problem at all, and everyone is so incredibly nice. Well, except for our mutual friend.
Trash grimaced at the reminder of his failure to get Sakamoto to budge.
With smartphones, its much easier now. All the schedules and maps are built in. So you just plug in your destination, and the whole route pops up.
Yeah, I really need to get a local phone next time I visit.
Trash felt an odd chill at that casual statement.
Are you planning more trips to Japan then?
Probably. Foods good, girls are cute, everyone is so nice.
Polite and nice are no-
I know, I know, I heard you yesterday. But, really, for me, it doesnt matter. People are polite to me and help me do what I need. Thats all that is important, right?
Trash was not sure why that statement had unnerved him. It shouldnt bother him if Danny came back to Japan often, but for some reason, it gave him an odd feeling.
Perhaps it was because if he came regularly, then he wouldnt need Trash to help him locate and purchase items as much, or perhaps at all.
Maybe he just felt unease at the idea of future troublesome tasks for this man. Danny seemed nice. He was smart, obviously, and was, in many ways, a true comrade. A closet geek who knew what to say online, at least. But his erratic and potent temper unnerved Trash. There was something dangerous about the man.
Or it might just be that he was too good-looking. That was definitely annoying. In fact, they were already drawing attention.
Trash had to keep on his toes. He was in enemy territory, beyond the front lines. He was in Shibuya, where no honest and upright man should ever step foot.
We should go.
Wait! Do you think we have time to see umm. Meiji Shrine?
Huh?
Danny was reading off of another identical slip of hotel stationery. Trash wanted to curse that receptionist. Tour guiding in Akiba was bad enough. Doing it in Buya would force him to question his entire identity.
Reading Trashs reaction, Danny seemed disappointed.
Is it too far from here?
Trash sighed.
No, its right over that bridge. We can go, but just for a few minutes.
Cool! That bridge?
Gritting his teeth, Trash followed Danny across the footbridge that spanned the train tracks. He could feel the eyes following them, or more specifically, the Western movie-star-like individual walking in front of him.
Trash had been to the Shrine when he was young. He had even come once for New Years, but he hadnt been back in ages.
After his father had passed away, he was told to stay away from shrines for a couple of months, and the same when his grandfather died. Other than the hidden shrine in Akihabara that he visited, and Kanda Myoujin, he had gotten out of the habit.
The path to the shrine was longer than he remembered it. The last time, the path had been packed with people, and everyone moved slowly as a group, but today, there was hardly a person in sight.
It was eerie, despite being in the center of Tokyo; once you entered the outer grounds of the shrine, the sounds of cars and trains completely disappeared. The inner shrine was completely surrounded by tall trees that must block the sounds of the outside world.
It was similar to the high walls of the buildings surrounding the hidden shrine. In that secluded corner, all the cars and loudspeakers from the stores faded to whispers.
Here, they could only hear the sound of the gravel covering the path, making a crunching noise with every step.
They didnt have much time, so Trash didnt take him all the way into the inner shrine. He did give Danny a chance to take a few pictures, however.
Wait, is that the Sound Princess phone?
Huh? Oh yeah! I was fiddling around with it last night. It doesnt have a SIM card, right? So I cant use it to make calls or anything, but the translation files are all local, so I brought it in case I need to know whats going on with the negotiations.
That made sense, but it also made Trash nervous. If anything happened to that prototype, hed get blamed.
Actually, I did get a local SIM; the receptionist at the hotel helped me. But I dont think I got it working right. It wont make calls or do text messages, at least.
Ryo He wont be happy that you are messing around with the prototype.
Ryo can sit and spin on it. Hes the one screwing me. I dont care if he doesnt fucking like what I do with his precious prototype. If he wants it back, he can come and take it from me like a man.
Maybe we should go; we shouldnt be late for the appointment.
Danny looked around and seemed to be a bit chagrined by the solemn atmosphere.
Sorry, he apologized to no one in particular.
They arrived at Takeshita street a few minutes before the appointment, but Trash realized he didnt know where the record store was.
The street was unique. It started a block from the station, then sloped down away from the tracks. The street itself was narrow, with small shops creating walls on both sides. It was more of a large alleyway, than a street for vehicles, and indeed, he saw no cars or trucks driving there. Some tourists were milling about. Even Trash had heard about the famous Takeshita Street, the heart of Harajuku and the birthplace of Shibuya fashion culture.
For obvious reasons, Trash had never been there before. It actually injured his pride to step into it now. He felt that it lessened him in some invisible, intangible way.
It actually looked rather normal. Trash had half expected to see high-school girls in blackface running around with crepes and giant thick socks. Instead, it was not too unlike most shopping streets in Tokyo.
Sure, most of the stores seemed to involve cheap jewelry, hats, t-shirts, and shudder lingerie, but he couldnt see anything that looked too crazy or unique. It reminded him more of Nakano, another geek-friendly neighborhood in western Tokyo that he and Pazu used to go explore when they still lived in Setagaya.
In fact, it appeared that there were more foreigners and tourists here than locals, though had to catch himself from gawking at what appeared to be half a boys high school baseball team, standing in front of a food truck eating dessert crepes.
It was not what he expected, but it was certainly a different world from what he was used to.
With no way to get his bearings, he fell back to using the GPS feature of his phone. Luckily, Pazus link gave him an approximate location on his phones map.
A few blocks in, and on the left side, he saw a small staircase leading up around one building and up a hillside. It appeared that the entire street was contained within an old ravine or canal.
Attached by wire to the handrail was a small white sign with black lettering in English.
[Denmark Street Records >]
He checked the clock. They were 5 minutes late. He felt that this was probably a bad way to start things off.
Well, this was his idea, so he needed to see things through.
Danny seemed to be as fascinated with Takeshita Street as he had been with Akihabara. He swiveled around, trying to take it all in. Trash had to tap him on the arm and point to the sign to get him to stop moving around.
He looked at the sign.
What is it?
This is what we are here for.
What?
The owner of that store. We are going to ask him to help.
Danny gave Trash an empty look.
What are you talking about? Here?
Trash nodded.
As if he had been waiting for Trash to tell him it was a joke, Danny stood there silently.
We are late already. We should go up.
Are you fucking joking? I thought we were going to some kind of I dont know. A serious place. Not some fucking record shop from a Gwen Stefani music video!
What?
You know, Gwen Stefani? Harajuku Girls. Even I know Goddammit Trash. What are you trying to do? Is this seriously your plan?
Trash was sick of this. Why did everyone else expect him to solve their problems when he obviously couldnt even take care of himself?
Look. You want a lot of cash, but dont want to transfer it like a normal person. No questions, right? This is the no questions place. You say you want a bank. Ill take you to a bank!
Trash
No! Im fucking sick of this c-crap. Its not my fault Sakamoto blew up the deal. Im just trying to take care of my business, and you guys are fucking with me, and Im f-fucking sick of it ahhh! FUCK!
Damn Trash. What kind of coffee did you drink this morning?
Trash calmed down and realized what he had just done.
When his relatives verbally beat him down, he never fought back. He just took it. The same back in school. He never fought back.
The past few days, something had changed. He was just so sick of having to put up with everyone elses nonsense. He was out of time, out of money. Just once, he wanted the word to listen to him. Stop screwing with him and his life and have things work the way its supposed to.
Hey, that was fun, but arent we late?
Trash stared blankly at Danny.
Come on, are we going or not?
Danny wasnt mad. He was actually grinning. He walked past Trash and started up the stairs.
Here, right? Lets go.
Trash blinked a couple of times, then followed Danny up the stairs.
Chapter Twelve: All Life Begins With Nu And Ends With Nu.
Chapter Twelve: All Life Begins With Nu And Ends With Nu.
What awaited them at the top of the staircase was not what either of them were expecting.
The record store was atop the second floor of the building, but did not face into the street. Instead, it faced a small park-like area that was atop the hill that fenced the street in on its North side. From the park, you could look down onto Takeshita Street from above, and you could walk directly into the record store that sat atop another store that faced into the street.
The park was surprisingly large and flat. Surrounded by a ring of trees. The store looked more like a large house from this perspective, with large double doors that were open to the wide space with music spilling out.
Beside the open entrance was a large white wooden bench, and on the bench was a giant bald man with onyx black skin. He wore a very poorly fitting dark green suit jacket over a clean white dress shirt. As they approached the door, he did not look at them, nor respond in any way at all.
Trash and Danny looked at each other, then shrugged and went inside the store.
Inside, it was just as you would expect. Rows and rows of boxes, full of vinyl records. Posters of album covers and old rock concerts covered the walls. The music was coming from an actual working antique jukebox.
Trash was amazed. It was exactly what he imagined an old-time record store would look like, but considering the practicality of the modern world, one that seemed like it was more of a movie set than a real functioning store.
Hey, hey, my, my, what do we have here? Danny was standing by the inside wall, next to the jukebox. At first, Trash thought that the machine was what had caught Dannys attention, but it was, in fact, the wall behind it.
The entire wall was covered with framed photographs. Hundreds of them. Some were new, while others looked very old. There were blurry black and white shots, next to sharp photos that could have been printed days ago. They were mixed together, with no obvious pattern. Many featured foreigners while even more appeared to be Japanese people of many different ages.
In each of the photos, most of which seemed to be taken in this very store, or a similar-looking backdrop, were two or sometimes three people. One person appeared to be the same in each photograph. In the more modern pictures, he looked to be an old gentleman. He was small and thin, had white or grey, slicked-back hair in an understated pompadour, thin, circular-rim glasses, and a thin, handlebar mustache.
He sometimes wore old-fashioned Western clothes, similar to the costume Sakamoto fancied, complete with suspenders and large leather shoes. In other photos, he wore a traditional Japanese Kimono, making him look like an artist or writer.
Jagger, Dylan, Bon Jovi, Joplin, Clapton, Lennon, Lennon and Yoko! McCartney, Dolly Parton, Osborne, Freddy Mercury, Prince, Jackson, Janet too, Madonna, Bill Clinton? Rabin, Thatcher, even Nixon? Are these real? Is that Steve Jobs?
Ah yes, that one. He used to visit often, but its been a while.
Both Danny and Trash swiveled around to face a tiny old man. He appeared even smaller than he had in the photographs, but it was, without a doubt, the man in each one of the photographs on the wall.
Trash recognized some of the names that Danny had read off, but as he scanned the photographs, he could not recognize anyone. Some looked like politicians, or celebrities, and a few dressed like athletes, maybe baseball stars.
He had been to a restaurant like that before. Where the owners put up pictures of famous people who had eaten there, not that he recognized any faces then either. For Danny to have recognized so many faces, they must have been quite famous. At least outside of Japan. He would have to ask Pazu about the Japanese people in the pictures and see if he knew any of the faces.
Hello, my name is Hibiki Horikoshi, and this is my humble record shop. You must be Hiroyukis friend
The man spoke quietly and slowly, but with incredible confidence, as though he was in no hurry whatsoever. Like nothing in the world bothered him, or greatly concerned him either.
It took a moment to realize that the old man was speaking in English. He spoke as naturally as Danny, though with even more depth, despite his small size.
Y-yes, Im
Trash mentally tripped over his own name. For years, he went by his nickname, the one Pazu helped him make his own. He thought of himself by that name, and only his family used his given name. The name he despised.
Now, for the first time he could remember, he faltered over which name to give this man. There was something in that voice. Something that made him afraid. Especially of lying. He felt the consequences of lying to this man would be grave. It was unclear why he felt that way. The only things he could recognize were the few words that the man had spoken, and the steely, cold look in his eyes.
Umm, My name is Oob-
Hiroyuki, mentioned that you prefer to go by an unusual nickname. May I ask what it is?
Trash, I prefer to be called Trash.
Unusual indeed, but interesting in its own way. May I also call you Trash, then?
Trash nodded. He looked over and saw a curious look on Dannys face.
And you, Im sorry, I dont know your name. Would you mind?
Uh, not at all. Im Daniel Landis. You can call me Danny. Its nice to meet-
Ah, Landis Yes, I see. From Silicon Valley?
Danny gulped, and his color dropped a shade. Then he nodded.
Yeah, yes. I got my start there a few years ago.
Yes, Thank you, Danny. Its nice to make your acquaintance. Now, would you like to have a seat so that we can talk? Or you are welcome to look around the store for a while.
Uhh, If we could have some of your time, we would appreciate it, sir.
Trash had no idea how to act in situations like this. He was just trying to mimic what he had seen in movies he had seen.
Excellent! Agbor? Would you be so kind as to bring some tea into the sitting room?
At that request, the giant mountain of a man at the entrance stood, then walked through the store and out a door in the back. Despite his size, he moved smoothly and quickly, without disturbing anything in the cramped quarters of the store.
This way, then. Trash, Danny, Hibiki moved to another door on the other side of the store. It opened into a large sunroom looking out into the park.
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Are those pictures All those people, are they real? Danny seemed to be unable to contain his excitement, and blurted the question out.
The pictures are real; as for the people, well, that is something only time can reveal, dont you think? The old man said with a wink.
Please, have a seat.
Hibiki gestured at two lounge chairs, facing the outside, while he sat in a small wooden chair facing them.
The door opened, and Agbor came in, carrying a large tray in one hand. From the tray, he placed a large kettle, a small pot, a small pitcher and a sugerbowl, and three cups, onto the table in front of Hibiki. It was amazing that everything could be carried on one tray, but the man handled each item with ease.
Hibiki lifted up the large kettle and poured out some boiling water into the pot.
He prepared the tea in silence. Each step was practiced, as though he had poured thousands of pots of tea in this room and manner before.
Trash and Danny shared a look. Despite the ordinary nature of the situation, there was a strong, intimidating aura that was impossible to miss.
As he finished pouring the tea, it appeared to be a black western tea, the old man spoke.
Milk, sugar?
Danny shook his head quickly, No, straight is fine.
Trash paused, then spoke quietly.
Yes, please. Both.
Hibiki smiled, then he used a small spoon to add a scoop of white sugar to each two of the cups. Then, he poured out some milk into the same cups from the small pitcher.
He took a small spoon and stirred one cup.
The large servant appeared immediately and placed one of the cups in front of Trash. He took the cup of plain tea and placed that one in front of Danny. Then he moved the sugar and milk to the center of the table and put a small basket of chocolate-coated cookies beside them.
Trash thought to himself that the man would be the pride of any Akihabara maid cafe. His actions were smooth and minimal. There was no wasted movement at all.
Trash took a sip of the tea. With all the ceremony involved in making it, he half expected it to be some amazing drink. It was just tea. He reached out and picked up one of the cookies. It was a hard, round, dry cookie that was coated on one side in chocolate. Taking a bite, he found the cookie to be dry but slightly sweet, similar to the energy bars that were popular with office workers who skipped meals. The chocolate was sticky and far too sweet.
He quickly took a sip of the tea. Together, they balanced each other out well, but it was too troublesome. Now, his fingers were covered in chocolate.
A cloth napkin had appeared like magic next to his cup of tea. He had not even seen it placed there. While he knew what the napkin was for, he was still hesitant to use it to clean his hands. It seemed like a waste to spoil the clean white cloth, but the alternatives were to wipe them on his sleeve, or no, not that. He could never
Looking up, he saw the old man with sparkling eyes and a wide grin, submerging one cookie deep into his tea. After holding it there for a few seconds, he pulled it out and bit into it with relish. He dipped it in again, and with that pattern, quickly finished it off. Finally, with no hesitation, the old man licked the melted chocolate from his fingers before wiping them on the napkin placed at his side.
He then took a sip of the tea, and sat back with a contented look on his face.
They say, in England, whatever problems you have, anything can be solved with a cup of tea. If its a particularly difficult one, then a cup of tea and a biscuit.
Trash wiped his hand on the cloth and leaned forward.
We have a small problem, and I was hoping wondering if you might be able to help us.
Well, Im not sure what I might be able to do for you, but Im, very fond of the Takedas, and of course, young master Hiroyuki. If there is anything this old man can do to help you, I will certainly do my best.
Trash and Danny exchanged looks. Danny spoke next.
I have some business here in Japan. Unfortunately, a problem has come up that requires a large amount of capital, immediately in order to resolve it. I have plenty of funds, but nothing available to me here on short notice
I am certain an international wire transfer could be arranged in a day or so, The old man continued to speak in his slow, even metered pattern.
Yes Its just that our associate. Hes rather unsophisticated. Its become rather complicated, and transferring the amount we need could cause additional problem.
I see Please forgive my rudeness, but could I ask how much money you are in need of?
A hundred thousand, US dollars. Though we need it in Japanese yen now, and in cash.
I see.
The man did not seem the least bit concerned by the amount that Danny had laid out. It neither seemed to concern him, nor interest him in any way. He reacted with as much emotion as he had when Trash had asked for milk and sugar in his tea.
Im sorry, I dont see how I could be of any help. I am simply a small business owner.
Danny gave a look to Trash. Even trash had been surprised by how quickly the man had turned them down.
Im sorry, sir. I understand its a lot, but we arent asking for a loan. Danny He has the money, and
And?
Trash was on the spot. He spoke up to try and save the deal somehow, but he had no idea how. He had imagined something like a gangster comic book. That he might have a big briefcase of money under the table and they would just need to promise him a percentage.
Real life is nothing like the comic books. Of course, he had learned this lesson well. It had been the theme of his entire life. He used comics and cartoons, movies and novels, to escape from his life. But whenever he opened his eyes, he saw the reality of the harsh world in front of him.
Would you be interested in an overseas bank account? In Singapore?
Danny scowled at Trash. They hadnt actually discussed that type of arrangement.
You are offering a trade?
There appeared to be a hint of interest in the mans voice. Both Danny and Trash looked at each other in surprise.
I do have an account. Its holding up a paper company. Legal and registered in Singapore. The paperwork has been filed with our associates information, but its easy enough to change since he hasnt taken ownership yet.
Danny had a strange look on his face. Like he was unhappy, yet curious at the same time. Trash wasnt sure where he stood at this moment.
I see. This can all be verified?
Yes Danny answered hesitantly.
Trash was bothered. The man had opened the door, just a tiny crack. It was their only change. Danny had already put in a lot of money; Trash had nothing left if this fell through. Why was he acting like he didnt want it to work out?
The old man turned his gaze back on Trash.
And you, Trash. What is your role in this business? How are you involved.
Im not I mean.
Trash didnt know what to say. He looked at Danny, who just shrugged his shoulders.
Im here to help the deal go through. Thats it. I just know everyone involved, so I can explain things to Danny and both parties. But it wasnt working out, so I asked Pazu Hiroyuki, for help to get the money exchanged. Im sorry, I wasnt educated enough to know if this is okay I apologize if Ive offended you
The old man stared intently at Trash, then looked over at Danny who sat back on his chair casually.
Mr. Landis. You would be willing to transfer the funds in Singapore to me in exchange for immediate access to cash equivalent here in Japan?
Danny went rigid. Then he looked at Trash and smiled.
Yes, of course.
And how will you be compensating me for my part in this?
Oh! Of course, of course. I can increase the funds in the account by three percent?
Trash stared at Danny. This was not the time to pinch pennies. The solution to the problem was right here.
Five percent!
Trash stared at the Hibiki for some reaction. Any reaction, but he saw nothing. The old man stared impassively as if he said nothing.
Eight, no Ten percent. Please, could you do it for ten percent?
Trash! Danny hissed.
Ten? The statue finally moved.
They both stared again at Hibiki, who picked up his cup and took another sip of tea.
You would like me to provide you with one hundred thousand American dollars, converted into Japanese Yen, all in cash? And in exchange, you will transfer ownership of the account in Singapore, worth $110,000, is that correct?
Danny scowled at Trash, then looked at the old man thoughtfully.
Yes, if that is possible, it would be a helpful arrangement for me.
Hibiki slowly stirred his tea, then slowly regarded the two men in front of him.
Im sorry, it would seem that you have misunderstood what type of assistance that I offer.
Both Trash and Danny exchanged confused glances.
I am not a bank or a loan shark. I am a humble businessman. I sell records that bring music and joy to the world.
But Trash started to protest, but realized he had nothing to stand on. He and Pazu had made assumptions, even upon. Even him, it seemed clear that he was more than he appeared, but it was only assumptions. He had screwed things up again.
Mr. Landis, why are you here?
What do you mean? Trash brought me here. He said you could help with my problem, but it seems he was mistaken. Im sorry to have troubled you.
Trash could see Dannys temper starting to seep into his tone.
Trash, why did you come here then?
I apologize. It was my mistake. Pazu I mean Hiroyuki. He said something once about how you help people. I misunderstood. Ive wasted your time.
Trash was utterly defeated. With this failure, there was no recovery.
Ahh, well, then. Perhaps, the misunderstanding was not so large as I had feared.
Trash looked up. That last ember of hope still clinging to life.
I can provide the funds you need, Mr. Landis, but not under the terms you have offered.
What? What do you mean, you want a higher fee?
No, Mr. Landis, you dont understand. But perhaps you will. Agbor, could you refresh the water and bring me another pot of tea? This may take a bit longer.
Chapter Thirteen: I鈥檒l Be Going Now. I鈥檒l Come Back When This Is All Over.
Chapter Thirteen: Ill Be Going Now. Ill Come Back When This Is All Over.
You could say that I am in the music business, but I fear that would be a massive oversimplification.
Hibiki was pouring more tea to warm up everyones cups.
I am simply a record store owner. All I need to do is anticipate the demand, procure the product, and maintain my establishment, and I have succeeded. But the music industry is far more complicated than just retail stores. You need to innovate, explore, and create new markets, inspire young artists, and captivate your audience. There is no right and wrong, and the results can never be predicted in advance.
Trash tried to understand what the old man was talking about. It seemed like a business discussion, but he knew nothing about the higher aspects of business. He was a trader by nature, barely managing to survive in the world of bartering. His English was also being tested. It required so much concentration just to keep up with the quickly moving conversation, and fatigue was already starting to cause him to lose focus.
Despite being a more simple operation, many, if not most, record shops fail. Despite being far more complex, many music corporations succeed. Mr. Landis, what do you suppose the difference is?
Danny, who initially seemed almost annoyed by the odd manner of their host, thought about the question for a moment and, as though entertained by the question, answered it as if he had been given a riddle.
While there is a connection, the core business is completely different. The inputs and outputs are different. The thresholds for success and failure are entirely different. Its like comparing apples and airplanes.
Hibiki chuckled.
That is a very astute answer, Mr. Landis. As expected from a man once hailed as a Wunderkind.
Trash saw Dannys smile petrify with that last compliment. He wasnt sure what a wunderkind was, but it was likely less of a compliment than it sounded.
Many, many people have come to this country to find their fortune, from the Khan, to the Qin, to the Tzars, to Perry and his Black Ships. Many still come every day. Now, they bring financial instruments, and trade contracts, and currency swaps. Just as those early invaders, nearly all of them leave disappointed. Carrying away less than they came with.
To his credit, Danny still seemed to be interested in the impromptu lesson.
That is what I would like to know about. There have been so few wins, but considering the size of the market and the strong interdependence of Japan and the US, there should have been so many more. I dont buy all that crap of market protectionism and isolationism. That shouldnt keep innovators from breaking through and wrecking the place. Look at Apple.
Another chuckle from Hibiki, and an appreciative nod.
Why didnt you ever try and take a crack at it, then?
I wanted to. Actually, it was one of my first ideas before iCONNector. But I was warned off. A mentor of mine. He told me to go to Japan only if I needed to get more practice failing. Heh, I forgot about that.
That sounds like something Marvin Jensen might say.
How did you?
Oh, hes out there on that wall somewhere. He made many attempts. Did better than many, but never quite made the splash he had hoped for.
You knew-
- Yes, though not well. He once sat where you sit now.
Danny sat with a very thoughtful look, leaned forward in his seat, and took a sip of tea.
The reason that so many attempts to take Japan fail, is a secret that is as well known as it is completely ignored. It is because the fundamental goals and structure of business in Japan are as different from the West as playing checkers is from playing the piano.
Trash was completely lost, but Danny was energized. He could care less about the deal now. He was bursting with curiosity about where this lesson was going.
Japan is not trying to keep foreign business out, far from it. But so many people come over thinking that the language is the only thing that needs to be translated. That, Im afraid, is failing to see the forest for the trees. This brings me back to our misunderstanding. As I said before, I am not a bank or a loan shark.
Danny was clearly thinking hard. He could tell that the man in front of him was leading him somewhere, and as a puzzle, he could not resist trying to find the solution.
Trash said that you help people.
Well, I am not so altruistic that I help everyone, but that is a key service that I offer.
Trash watched as though the two men were dueling. Danny seemed to be putting something together. He glanced back toward the doorway to the shop. Toward the wall of photos.
You are a fixer no, you are THE fixer.
Trash was familiar with that term. A fixer was someone who helped foreign businesses or journalists quickly get the connections they needed when they visited from abroad. They would act as a scheduler, and sometimes a guide, or an interpreter.
As expected from you, Mr. Landis. Your reputation for unrestrained thinking is well deserved.
Danny smiled a self satisfied grin, but even Trash could see the wheels in the mans head turning.
The biggest mistake most of those Western companies make is that they arrive, still thinking that business is transactional in nature. It is that way in America, and most of the world for that matter. Everyone wants the best deal. Goods and services are evaluated, contracts are made, trades are reconciled, people are happy or unhappy based on the visible, tangible results.
As he spoke, the old man took on a sad look as though he had given this warning countless times before, only to be ignored.
But business in this country is, at its core, relationship-based. It is still adorned with all the same cladding that you see elsewhere; profit statements, budget projections, partnership agreements. The true structure, however, continues to be based on trust and familiarity. Success here is not only judged by profits, but it can also come from building connections that can be relied on when needed. The greatest leaders in Japanese history are not known for their courage or intelligence, but for their strategic minds, and political acumen.
Danny was now nodding along. Trash was well beyond his depth, so he just tried to rest his mind. At least it looked like things were moving in a positive direction.
If you try and play the game without knowing the rules, then how can you expect to win?
Then you dont want money? Danny asked with a confused look, as if testing a hypothesis he was not confident in.
HA! Hibiki laughed out loud, then smiled with the tight-lipped grin of a snake about to devour its prey.
Of course, I want money. What kind of fool would I be if I didnt?
You dont only want money.
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Very, very sharp Danny.
Trash just realized the Hibiki had stopped calling Danny by his first name, but now had suddenly started again. He was sure there was meaning behind that. Perhaps there was meaning behind calling him by his nickname as well. It was so confounding and frustrating to think about. He really wanted to be back in Akiba. At Charon with Pazu, or playing the retro game cabinets at Super Potato. Anywhere but here.
He wondered if this was some kind of Geek God purgatory, for coveting the steak of Capricieux. He should stick to his lane, and venturing out leads to nightmares like this. Both Akihabara and Shibuya lay on the outer ring of central Tokyo. By most respects, they were very close together, but right now he felt as though he had been kidnapped and brought to a foreign country. Or perhaps the truck did hit him yesterday, and this was a bad dream while he was lying in a coma in the hospital. Or maybe this was hell? Or a different world altogether
Trash.
How could he go back to his old world? His comfortable well, familiar old life atop the factory.
Trash!
Huh?
Trash realized that both Danny and Hibiki were staring at him intently.
You okay? We seemed to have lost you for a minute.
Sorry, its very complicated. So much English
Ah yes perhaps that is enough for today Danny, I believe we have an agreement?
Yes, Ill contact my people in Singapore and have them send me the confirmations as soon as the banks open tomorrow.
That is fine. I hope you have a pleasant stay in Japan, Danny. How much longer are you planning to stay?
My flight is booked out of Narita tomorrow night.
Then I suppose this will be the last time we will be meeting this time. Please have a safe trip.
Then Hibiki turned to Trash. There was a cold edge to the look that gave him chills.
It was interesting to meet you as well, Trash. Please give my regards to young master Hiroyuki. Let him know he should stop by sometime so that we can catch up.
That statement, spoken in Japanese, sent an even colder chill up and down his spine. He worried that somehow he had gotten his friend in trouble.
Trash wasnt sure what was going on. He had spaced out the last part of the conversation, but it looked like the old man and Danny had made some kind of agreement. He hoped it left something for him, but he realized that Danny might be upset if the commission to Hibiki was more than he expected.
Realizing that he had failed, at least partially, Trash felt that whatever happened now, he had played every card he had. He just had to wait and see where things landed.
Thank you for your time.
That was all he could say. The large butler escorted Trash and Danny out of the store and they were soon standing in the middle of the park in front. Agbor was, again, sitting on his chair, looking as though he had been there all day.
The last hour felt like a dream to Trash. It had no sense of reality. Turning to look back at the store, it hadnt disappeared like in a storybook. The butler, or whatever he was, sat there ignoring them, he could still hear the music from the jukebox wafting out the open double doors.
He slowly turned to look at Danny, afraid of what he would see.
Danny was looking back at Trash. It was an inscrutable expression that made Trash want to run away.
Im torn, Trash, Danny spoke after a few seconds.
Part of me wants to beat the shit out of you; the other part wants to kiss you. Id do both, but to be perfectly honest, the part that wants to kick your ass is kinda winning me over.
D-Danny Lancelet Im sorry.
What the hell? Danny shook his head, then looked over at the store and the man, still sitting there ignoring them.
Lets move somewhere else.
Danny walked back down the steps to Takeshita Street. After a few seconds, Trash slowly followed him down.
They walked back up the hill until they reached the main road. There was another entrance to the train station here that Trash didnt even know existed. There must be an underground exit to the platform. He thought everyone always used the main exit, so he guessed this one was a secret for the Takeshita street crowd.
Okay, let me say this first. What the fuck were you thinking? Who authorized you to bargain?
Trash trembled.
You almost screwed up big time. Where the hell did ten percent come from? Were you going to give up your entire cut of the deal?
Actually, Trash was willing to give up most of it as long as he got something. That was what he thought at the time, at least.
Trash looked again at the tall American. He realized that this time, he wasnt really angry. He was blustering a bit, but already, Trash was able to tell when he was actually angry, and when he was just raising his voice to make a point. The Danny who stood in front of him right now was one hundred percent in control of his emotions. If anything, he seemed more in control than at any point since he had first met him.
That was stupid. Really stupid Trash. You pretty much cut yourself out of the deal, you know?
He knew. He felt his shoulders sag a bit,
How much?
Huh?
How much is it going to cost you to get the money for Ryo?
Danny looked surprised, then he smiled an evil-looking grin.
You really blacked out there, huh? Well, its a bit weird now, but end of the day, Ill have to boost the budget by another fifty, I guess.
F-fifty?
Fifty thousand.
Trashs heart stopped. He was stunned. In just a few moments just like that. The deal he had brokered had collapsed completely. Another fifty thousand dollars, and Danny would blame him. His entire cut wouldnt even cover one-third of the increase, even after Danny had agreed to bump it up to fifteen percent.
Dont shit yourself. Yeah, it was more than I was expecting. But well, it might be worth it. Lets just say Im still evaluating it.
But Danny Im sorry. I really screwed this all up.
Yes, my friend. You really did. But you know what they say; when life gives you lemons
You make lemonade?
Of course, Trash had heard the saying before, although he really didnt know what it meant.
Fuck no. All you have is a bunch of lemons. So when life gives you lemons, all you can do is to learn how to suck on lemons and learn to enjoy it like youre sucking on a-
Danny! Im sorry, Trash was sincerely regretful that he had failed. He lowered his head in apology.
Look, you screwed up, but
Trash looked up.
But, you screwed up in an amazingly interesting way. You brought me into contact with someone I didnt even know existed. Someone who If I had met him just five years no, even three years ago, it would have changed my whole lifes trajectory. Even now, new possibilities abound. For that well, I guess I owe you one.
Trash cocked his head to the side. Danny, was that happy to meet that old goat? Pazu really picked a perfect name for the man. He was odd, and intimidating, and just so weird.
Tell you what. I dont know for sure what is going to happen with Ryo. Maybe I can work something out with the scary guy up there. I gotta talk to some people first.
Danny pointed back towards the hill where the record store was.
If it works out, its gonna cost me big, but thats okay. Ill still pay you the original commission. Eight percent. Sound good?
Trash shot to attention. Was he hearing correctly? Did he somehow fall asleep in the middle of the race and wake up at the finish line?
Of course, Ill subtracting out the expense money so lets call it five big ones. Right to your account?
Uhh, but why? What?
No matter what happens, when I get back to the States, Ill wire you the money. 5K is no big deal. Regardless of how things go.
Really? But what about Ryo?
Dont worry, Ill work something out. Your part is done, You are a free man now.
Just like that. He was free. Hed get the money, he could afford to move out and maybe buy a few months of leeway. It was exactly what he had been hoping for.
Just like that.
Just like that, Danny said it, like he was reading the thoughts right from Trashs mind.
Why?
He knew it was a stupid question. He shouldnt tempt the Gods by picking at a loose thread like that, but it just didnt feel finished.
Hmm. Lets just say something that freak up there said made sense to me. Relationships are important. Im gonna need to meditate on that. But who knows, someday, I may need to ask for your help on something, and Id like for you to at least take the call, you know?
Trash thought about it for a moment, then he nodded. Still unsure, but knowing that things were finally moving back outside of his sphere of influence. Like it or not, this adventure was ending.
Well, I gotta say, its been an interesting couple of days, Trash. Ive got to run. I have about a billion phone calls to make before tomorrow, but thanks for the tour guiding and whatever this all was.
Danny waved back down the hill at Takeshita Street. Then he stuck out his hand.
Trash reached out and, in a daze, shook the mans outstretched hand.
He stood there at the intersection, trying to grasp what was going on. Then he realized where he was and what he was doing.
He was standing like a fool in the heart of the enemy. Some teenage girls walking by gave him a sour look. He looked around. Danny had disappeared. He must have already gone into the lower train entrance across the street.
Realizing that he must look like an idiot, Trash walked over to the corner. There was a western hamburger place there. Trash suddenly realized how hungry he was.
It was called Wolfgang Puck. It sounded strange, like some kind of RPG theme cafe, which would have been interesting, but the prices were outrageous. Instead, he went into the Yoshinoya next door and sat at the counter.
Realizing that the money in his wallet was now his, free and clear, he ordered a beef bowl, double meat, with pork soup. This lavish meal still came under 1,000 yen, but it was his go-to splurging order when he had some extra coin.
Trash had money in his wallet, and money in the bank. Even more money was on the way, although he wasnt sure when that would come in. Somehow, he had pulled it off. The feeling left him numb.
Things still felt off. That weird old man. Danny was acting very strange, too, even for a foreigner. He needed to go back and talk to Pazu. Hopefully, that would reassure him that things were looking better.
That reminded him he hadnt checked his phone since he had arrived in Harajuku. Sure enough, there was a stack of new messages from Pazu waiting for him.
PAZU [Howd it go? Everything OK?]
PAZU [Stop by. Making wings(HOT).]
PAZU [WARNING! Saki brought Satsuki]
PAZU [MOGRA ALERT! RUN!]
PAZU [4REALZ. SAVE ME!]
Shit.
Chapter Fourteen: That鈥檚 the first monkey I鈥檝e seen all day.
Chapter Fourteen: Thats the First Monkey Ive Seen All Day.
The noise was so loud that he could hardly think.
The smoke was so thick that he could barely breathe.
It was so packed, there was no room to move.
This was hell.
Club MOGRA wont be found listed on any tourist guidebooks of Tokyo. Far from the main street and the maid cafes, Its hidden in side a small, two story building on a dark and narrow backstreet of the only block to still bear the address Akihabara.
It was opened just a year earlier by a DJ going by the name D-YAMA. Since then MOGRA had been slowly building itself up as the geeks answer to the nightclubs of Roppongi. A mix of Techno, Trance, and Electronic, but mated with anime theme songs and 8-bit video game samples, it was another example of the culture war that was ongoing over the soul of the geek capital of Japan.
Trash hated it.
Its not that he disliked the concept. DJs mixing tracks while wearing maid costumes, spinning acid-house infused versions of songs like A Cruel Angels Thesis, to a room full of bandana-wearing hardcore fans dancing the wotagei, couldnt possibly be more on brand.
Trash just hated clubs. All of them. He hated the noise. He hated how crowded and packed they were. He hated the weird social dynamics of an outcast subculture mimicking the behavior of the society they self-isolated from.
He also hated cover charges.
He tightened his grip on the tiny paper ticket. He wanted to head over to the bar right now and order something. The problem was that he had only received two tickets for his 2,000 yen admission fee. The first had already been used at the upstairs bar.
A thousand yen for a glass of orange juice. This was pure robbery. The second ticket needed to last him the rest of the night. There was no way he was going to pay more cash for another drink in this trap.
Its just that it was so hot. The tiny room, packed with people dancing and convulsing, not to mention the projection screens and the rows of computers and DJ equipment, was easily defeating the small A/C unit in the back of the room.
Trash looked across the room, a space no larger than the factory space on the first floor of his apartment. Pazu was there, dancing with his waitress/girlfriend, Saki.
She was dressed up as one of those Vocaloids, Luka Megurine. Trash was sure not many people would be able to recognize her, however. Unlike the distinct blue twin ponytails of the headliner Vocaloid, Luka was new, with a more subtle design compared to the others in the series. The unique ear coverings and oversized armbands were enough for Trash to easily identify her costume.
Satsuki, the traitorous maid from Cure Maid Cafe, who had sent the picture of Danny and himself to Saki, was up on the DJ platform. She was part of the team headlining the night, Seburo C-X + Satsuki.
Her outfit tonight was Super Sonico, the recently popularized mascot character from Nitroplus. He had to admit that it was the perfect cosplay for the venue. The Hatsune Miku craze was already starting to die down, and Nitroplus had been pushing their concerts and music-theme video games for years, building up a solid fanbase. He wouldnt be surprised if they were supporting the group to promote Sonico as the next Miku.
The costume was simple, but well-made. Her wig was similar to the one that Saki was wearing, but a lighter shade of pink, and the top was easily recognizable by both the signature white and blue color and pattern, and the explosively overstretched chest area, the charm point for this character design.
In spite of that, the part of the outfit that drew Trashs attention was the headphones. He was sure they were ATH-AD1000Xs. They were painted white and blue, and had some weird crap glued to the cans, but he had spent enough time trying them out to tell the difference between the 1000X and cheaper models like the 500X.
How and why anyone would deface a 100,000 yen pair of audiophile headphones, he had no clue. Especially when the cheaper version looked almost identical and cost 20% as much. He got strange vibes from her at the cafe, but after learning that she and Saki were friends, and then getting dragged out to watch her perform on stage dressed as a slutty band groupie, bouncing to the beats of yet another Mario Kart techno remix, Trash had serious doubts. The headphones were just the last nail in the coffin.
He was very much not a fan.
He moved to the back of the room, and then squeezed up the narrow staircase full of people, arriving on the first floor. It was still just as crowded here, and almost as noisy, but the lack of smoke machines added a rumor of fresh air from the front door still provided a major improvement. Not that it helped Trash with his mood.
He dropped the ticket on the bar and ordered a 1,000 yen coke, wondering again what madness had possessed him to join this carnival.
He was halfway through his coke when he was reminded of the answer.
Pazu was standing at the top of the stairs with a panicked look on his face.
Where did you go? Satsuki is still in the middle of her set.
Dude, what happened to you? You used to be cool.
Very funny, I know this isnt really your thing. I mean, it isnt my thing either, you know that. But I finally have a hot girlfriend, and if she wants to come. What do you expect me to do?Pazu looked somewhat apologetic, which for some reason made Trash even more annoyed.
Well, that sounds like a you problem. You dont need me here, so can I go now?
Pazu put on a weepy face and grasped Trash by his shoulders.
You cant leave me here alone. Ill die.
Give me a drink ticket. Then Ill stay till the set is over.
But its my last one
Pazu produced the ticket and held it like a man dying of dehydration in the desert holds a bottle with a single mouthful of water left.
Trash downed the rest of his coke and placed the cup back on the bar. He turned toward the door dramatically.
Fine, fine. Take it!Pazu forced the tiny slip of paper into Trashs fingers, then directed him back down the stairs.
As he looked around the room of geeks and weirdos, Trash had doubts about his future.
Even with the money problems taken care of, temporarily at least, he still needed to find a new place to live.
There werent a lot of apartments that he could afford, at least not so close to the center of Tokyo. Moving away, however, put him further from his current streams of revenue. Was it time for him to give up the Akihabara life and get some basic job somewhere?
No matter how he looked at it, he was on a path that led nowhere. He wasnt even making enough to pay for rent and food. If he did anything else, he wouldnt be making much more, and he wouldnt even have the time to keep doing what he was doing. He could work in convenience stores and maybe grab another part-time job somewhere. That would stabilize things, but then what? Theres no path leading away from there.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He always knew he couldnt do the normie thing. Work a pointless job until you retire, hoping to have enough time left to travel the country in vapid tour groups until he died of boredom? But he couldnt go full geek either. He knew plenty of those types. They worked IT jobs, or had other qualifications, giving them access to money and security. But they spent most of their time working just so that they could turn around and spend the rest of their time and all of their money on their hobbies.
The small sliver of time they had left after working was their true life. The rest was just a painful dream that repeated every day.
Trash didnt want to spend a life like that. Hating what you were doing to satisfy the eyes of everyone around you, only happy in your wonderful room, reading novels and comics, watching cartoons, and playing with toys.
His mind went back to the old goat in Harajuku. Danny called him The Fixer. How is that even a job? Just introducing people to other people? You would have to know some amazing people, Trash thought to himself. He needed to ask Pazu about those pictures
Seburo C-X + Satsuki was finally done with their performance and the Emcee was letting everyone know who the next group was. It would take a while to reset the equipment and immediately there was a rush to the stairs as people wanted to step outside to get away from the sauna, or grab a smoke.
The two guys who ran most of the equipment were busy breaking down their gear, while Saki was helping Satsuki with the mixing boards and the laptops that she had been using. They loaded everything into protective cases, then Saki walked over and handed Trash both of the heavy shoulder bags.
Huh?
What do you mean, Huh?Saki stepped into his space, prompting Trash to take a step back.
Why am I carrying this?
What? You want to walk out of here empty-handed while these two fragile flowers are loaded up like pack animals?she said while pointing to herself and Satsuki.
What about Pazu?
Pazu? One of these bags would break him in half. Whats the point of feeding a gorilla like you if we cant take advantage of your uselessly large body when it counts?
Pazu gave him a look. Part apology, part prayer, part exasperation.
Trash wanted to fight back, but he was too tired. It had been a long day, and he was about to be freed. All he had to do was carry these bags up to wherever they were going to get a taxi, and he would finally be able to call an end to this day.
Grabbing both bags, he hoisted them on his shoulders. The stairs were finally clear enough that he could move up with all the extra weight, though he almost toppled backward while climbing the steep, narrow steps.
Stepping out into the cool evening air, he set the bags down, and stretched.
Luckily, the rain from the night before had not continued, and while there were some low clouds that he could see from the city light reflecting back down, the streets were dry.
He was about to ask Pazu where the girls were going to change, when they stepped out onto the road beside him.
Well, lead the way, Saki ordered.
Umm, Pazu raised his hand nervously.
Saki squinted at him with an evil glare.
You forgot to ask him, didnt you?
Well, no. Technically, I didnt forget
You chickenshit, stupid owner!
Trash did not like the sound of this. He scanned the street to see if there was anything stopping him from dropping the bags and making a run for it.
Sensing his friends motivation, Pazu stepped over and grabbed Trash by the elbow.
You see, the girls didnt want to change inside MOGRA or in a public bathroom. Satsuki is going to stay over at my place with Saki tonight, and they wanted to just walk from here but
You cant be serious.
Well, your place is just a couple of blocks away they cant really walk the whole way to Charon dressed like that, can they?
What do you mean? This is Akihabara. If anything, they look more normal here than we do. A couple of weeks ago, I was coming back from a line-up at two in the morning and passed a dude in kigurumi masked cosplay, dressed as Madoka Magica.
Wait, seriously?
Yeah. Walking up Showa Street.
You sure it was a guy? I mean, how can you tell?
It was 2 AM on a dark side street. Of course, it was a guy.
Pazu and Trash shared a look, then burst out laughing.
Come on. Just let them use it for ten minutes.
You have lost your freaking mind if you think-
Whats the big deal? I mean, arent you going to move out anyway?
That comment was a bucket of cold water in Trashs face.
He wanted to feel offended, but he couldnt find any part of himself to take offense. Its not like he cared what either of the girls thought of him or his lifestyle. Nor did he feel like he needed to protect the factory from the judgment of strangers.
Still, he could see some hesitation on Pazus face, as if he also realized the iffy nature of his observation.
First floor only.
Huh? The garbage dump?
They can use the bathroom. Its clean-ish. No going upstairs.
Comrade Trash! You are a true gentleman!
Shut up. Lets go. This crap is heavy.
Pazu gave the girls a thumbs up, then they proceeded to walk North underneath the elevated train tracks. It was early enough that the trains were still running, the sound soothing Trashs frayed nerves.
He realized that wherever he ended up, he hoped there was a train line nearby, otherwise he might never get a good nights sleep again.
You cant be serious! This is the factory youre always talking about? Its just a run-down shop. Is it even legal to live in a place like this? It looks like an abandoned property!
Saki!
No way! Im not changing in there, its probably filled with mice and cockroaches! The bathroom at the convenience store would be better.
Be my guest.
Trash was done. If anyone else on the planet asked him to let someone into his home, he would have ignored them completely.
Wait!Pazu pleaded.
Saki, youre being mean. It doesnt look that bad. Anyway, there is no way I am walking all the way back to Ueno like this. Im going in.Just like that, Satsuki walked into the door marked Ooba Industries.
The remaining three people on the street stared at each other. Then Saki ran in after her friend.
Satsuki! Wait!
Trash was about to follow them in when Pazu stopped him, pulling on his jacket sleeve.
Wait. Dont go in yet. Were not done yet.
Trash was confused at first, but then he understood what Pazu was saying. A look of horror crossed his face.
No you cant. Im tired. I want to go inside and go to sleep. Its been a crazy day. Thank you. Enjoy the night with your crazy girlfriend and her bestie. Good night.
Trash turned, but Pazu refused to release his grip.
I said, Im tired. I came out because you begged. I even brought them here and let them inside. An act that shall never be repeated in this life. I am done! Good night!
Please! Trash. You cant abandon me like this. We are comrades, correct? We survived the battle of Baldur Bay together, did we not? Did we not spill the purple blood together, protecting the city of New Mombasa?
Thats low, bringing the Master Chief into this.
Please? Ill go in and make sure they dont mess up anything or go upstairs. Just stay here, okay? Theyll be done in a minute. I promise. Just stay. Okay? Please?
Gesturing at him like he was a dog waiting outside a shop for its master, Pazu went inside and closed the door.
Trash didnt want to know what was going on. He just wanted to go inside and go back to sleep. He would wait for five more minutes in honor of the spirit of the Xbox that was a casualty of their marathon HALO 3 campaign, but no more.
Ten minutes later, the girls emerged, followed by a chagrined Pazu.
Trash blinked. It was indeed late, but his brain was trying to resolve what he was seeing.
He had seen Saki in street clothes a few times. Surprisingly few, to be sure. She would always dress up in the restaurant in one of her character costumes. This wasnt exactly a requirement of her job, but it was how she and Pazu had met, and it was a key component to her getting the job in the first place.
If anything, seeing her in her street clothes was more disturbing. A long, conservative skirt, simple blouse with a thin cardigan sweater, and her long black hair braided neatly and tied up. She wore no jewelry and only applied simple make-up.
This was not Saki, it was Hanako Tsuchiya. Calling her by that name while she was in costume invited a death blow, but when she was dressed like this, he could get away with calling her Tsuchiya. Only Pazu dared use her real first name.
The bigger surprise was with the third person in the group exiting the factory.
Trash had met many cosplayers during his time in Akihabara. Many were very talented at changing their appearances. None of them were even close to the chameleon currently standing outside of his house.
The cheerful pink-haired cherubic musician, decked out in skin-tight and overtaxed gym wear, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was there a trace of the prim and proper, British-style maid from the other day.
The woman, who was perhaps a year or two older than he was, stood in front of him now wearing baggy, ripped jeans, an old t-shirt covered by a black leather biker jacket with the arms cut off. The childish face with thick pink glasses of Sonico was almost unrecognizable in this more mature visage, now sporting several piercings in her nose and along the left side of her bottom lip.
The tattoos that covered her entire exposed right arm would have been her most attention-drawing characteristic had it not been for hair. The entire right side was shaved to the skull, while the other half was dyed purple and kept long enough to sweep across her head and almost touch the top of her right shoulder.
The thing that brought a shiver down Trashs spine was not her eccentric outfit, however. She was, after all, a cosplayer, notwithstanding the depth of her transformation. It was the cold and amused look in her eyes, and the confident stride and body motions.
Trash had just met someone like that this morning. A predator in a country full of herbivores.
Hi, nice to finally introduce myself. My name is Meguri Sakakibara.
You can call me Meg, she added in English.
Chapter Fifteen: Girls are Supposed to Prevent Boys From Having Fun. It鈥檚 Just Their Nature.
Chapter Fifteen: Girls are Supposed to Prevent Boys From Having Fun. Its Just Their Nature.
Thats why he had to wait outside?
Saki seemed relentless in her criticism of Trash this evening.
You guys need to stop reading so many comic books. Its warping your concepts of normal.
Ive never wanted to be normal,Trash interjected.
Obviously.
Enough, you two. Trash has his rules. He doesnt have a lot and as long as I have known him, he never breaks them. Unlike some people who have hundreds of rules and break them all the time
Whats that supposed to mean?
Im just saying
Pazu and Saki kept arguing as they walked up the road. It was only a few minutes to their destination. Family Restaurant Jonathans.
Family restaurants filled a unique place in the food and beverage scene of Tokyo, and of course Akihabara had its own special flavor.
Trash rarely went to one, and never alone. While no one would ever consider it fine dining, the huge menu was hardly budget-friendly. For many people, there was a nostalgia associated with them. Childhood memories of going there to celebrate birthdays, or winning an award in primary school. Trash had no such memories, so the food offered him little comfort.
Another reason that they drew customers was far more relatable to Trash. They were open 24 hours a day, and many of them offered unlimited, self-service drink bars. It seemed like almost nothing could get you kicked out of one, either. He had seen everything; snoring people slumped over a cold cup of coffee, manga artists with the table covered in drawings as they desperately worked to finish a deadline, gangs of comic fans passing around their NSFW haul as they returned from a Comic Zine convention. From cheap dates, to shady business meetings, to refuge for the pseudo-homeless office commuters, family restaurants were an always-open oasis to the population of Tokyos crowded metropolis.
Pazu adored them. He would drag Trash along whenever he could convince him to come out for a late-night adventure. He would order big piles of fried foods. Then they would spend hours shooing away the staff every time they came by to clean the table.
Trash only ever got the unlimited drink bar. He never let Pazu treat him, though no one would ever account for who ate more of the french fries and fried chicken and calamari.
Now, as the four of them piled into a giant booth, Pazu started to pore over the menu. Soon, he called over the waiter with the button on the side of the table and listed off a large amount of food, not forgetting to add the drink bar.
Trash took this as his release to escape the table and grab some water and coffee for everyone.
He took his time, loading up a tray with cups, mugs, creamer, and sweeteners, just to get a few moments away from the odd tension at the table. Pazu and Saki had been together for over a year, and they usually got along great. As much as they joked about her being a lousy waitress, the truth was that a lot of Pazus current success was due to her involvement.
Its true that Charon, as a business, was supposed to be a cafe/restaurant. That said, it was rarely actually open, had very few customers, and was in a horrible location for such a business. It was too far from the station, too far off the main road, and half hidden at the bottom of a small mixed-purpose building.
But Pazu had little interest in running a successful restaurant. He was a YouTuber. He had plans and goals around creating content videos, and the quiet little restaurant was the perfect place for him to create.
The first part of the plan had gone far better than expected. His first videos had featured just his hands. He did actually enjoy cooking, although he has no professional chef. Amongst the multitude of part-time jobs he had tried out during high school, one that he had really enjoyed was as a cooking assistant at a large hotel.
Pazu had mostly washed dishes and cleaned up, but he was fascinated at the speed and diversity required by the kitchen. From room service, to the two dining rooms, to the huge catered meals for events, the kitchens were always bursting with activity, while still conscious of the importance of the appearance and presentation of each plate.
After trying out several other restaurants, Pazu discovered YouTube. Videos of every type of cooking, of every style and cuisine. For weeks, he wouldnt stop talking about it. He would send Trash links to different vlogs from all over the world. Street food videos and gourmet meals filled his inbox until he begged Pazu to stop.
At first, Pazu had come up with an idea to start a food vlog, traveling all over the world and sharing the different foods with his viewers. This plan collapsed immediately when he tried to go out and film at a local shopping street.
After days of planning and preparation, the stress and overstimulation from filming in the open managed to bring down the whole experiment in less than ten minutes. While he had the drive and determination, he lacked the strength and constitution to deal with cameras, presenting, communicating with the subjects, and avoiding interfering with bystanders. He soon collapsed from the stress and spent the next three days in the hospital for observation.
Before he even left the recovery wing, Pazu had revised his plan. Instead of filming others cook, he would film himself, in his own kitchen. That way, he could film whenever he wanted, with no worries about environmental concerns, and could break it up as much as he needed. He could easily reshoot segments that he wasnt happy with and take as long as he wanted between shots.
Using only YouTube, Pazu taught himself how to frame and film shots, edit the videos, and add sound, titles, and graphics. This was before most people in Japan had even heard of streaming video. He enlisted Trash to help him build a custom camera rig setup with LED lamps sourced from the Electric Town, and several cheap action cameras.
The new format worked well for Pazu, and soon, he had gathered a small but loyal fanbase. His videos were basic cooking demonstrations of simple meals for singletons. He never included more of himself than his hands and his voice.
At the time, Trash had been doing a job for a Hong Kong businessman who had asked him to locate a specific costume worn by a popular cosplayer at an event. It seemed pretty seedy, but the pay was good, and there was no risk, so Trash set out to track down the cosplayer.
Needless to say, the deal fell through. After speaking to the cosplayer, she informed him that the man was actually an online stalker who had been harassing her for months. Trash was mortified, and quickly terminated the contract and blocked the offender. Luckily she had believed him that he had no idea what the man was involved in.
Trash thought the incident was over but, several weeks later, she contacted him. As it turned out, she was a fan of Pazus channel and in one of his videos, he had mentioned that Trash had helped build the camera setup. Recognizing the unique name, the cosplayer had reached out. She was wondering if Pazu would be interested in a collaboration.
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Saki was reaching the peak of her career, and she knew it. Being a cosplayer wasnt actually a career, after all. She was currently one of the most popular cosplayers in Tokyo, but that hardly earned her enough to make a living off of. Sure, she had been offered modeling contracts, as well as several offers to pay her insane amounts to produce adult videos, but she had no interest in pursuing that path.
She had finally been accepted into a design program at a good school in Ochanomizu that her parents had agreed to support. Of course, they did not really understand the extent of her hobby. Saki loved clothing design, and in particular the intricate and complicated designs from cartoons and movies. Ultimately, she wanted to design and make costumes for Hollywood movies.
Worried that there was nowhere beyond events that she could use to expand her art, she started looking for other venues and platforms.
She started watching online videos and was focusing on low-budget filmmakers when she got addicted to cooking videos. She couldnt explain her fascination with the genre, but had soon had a dozen creators that she followed. There was just something relaxing and healing about watching people cook. She particularly liked one channel that featured a cook making simple recipes. She loved his sexy voice and fingers.
It didnt take long after they had connected for Pazu and Saki to redesign the channel to focus on him cooking and his waitress explaining various aspects of the food and the process. Pazu quickly came up with the concept for Charons Cafe. Trash didnt know at first that this was a plan that his friend had been formulating for years.
Trash was surprised when Pazu said that his parents were backing him in turning the channel into a full restaurant. It somehow seemed like it was too much, too fast. It wasnt until Saki started pushing him to go into live-streaming that Pazu had shared his ultimate plan with Trash. It had shocked him at first, but he knew that it reflected his best friend perfectly.
It was also clear that he had yet to share the plan with Saki. Things were getting more and more tense between them, and Trash was getting dragged into the drama. Saki was getting more critical of his presence, and Pazu was getting more scared of how she would react.
By the time Trash had returned with the drinks, they were bickering again. He awkwardly placed the tray down and transferred everything to the table. As he put a glass of water in front of Saki, he asked,Is this okay?
She bolted upright from her seat in the booth, and wiping tears from her eyes, she ran right out of the restaurant.
Trash froze. He was sure he didnt do something wrong. Mostly sure, anyway.
Arent you going to go after her? Pazu asked Meg.
She gave him a strange look, Like a teacher trying not to berate a child who had defecated in the middle of the classroom.
Isnt that your job? She said, with an almost cruel edge to her voice.
Pazu got up and walked out after his girlfriend without a word.
Trash stood there. He picked up the tray again. Maybe he could pretend to return the tray and try to slip out the back,
Dont even think about running away.
Trash looked up and blinked. She had switched to English, her English that was perfect, compared to his self taught imitation. He hated that the only thing he was good at, was now mediocre compared to the new arrival.
Grabbing him firmly with her eyes, she patted the seat next to her, where Saki had been seated a moment ago.
What is going on with my life? Why am I suddenly dealing with monsters all day?
Arent you going to sit down?
wellimhm hhmbll
No use pretending. I know you speak English. You were going at it with that douchebag yesterday. Sit!
His body reacting instinctively to the command, Trash put the tray back down and quickly sat next to the scary woman.
His eyes moved away from the tattoos covering her arm, then slid momentarily over her still-too-tight t-shirt, then tried to avoid the piercings and shaved head. Finally he gave up and grabbed a mug of coffee and took a swallow so fast that he burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
Hey, take it easy there. You must really like coffee, she said as she patted his back while he coughed and sputtered, drops of coffee flying all over.
He quickly grabbed a napkin and started to wipe the table.
Ahhh! Its so nice to speak freely. You know, Its so much easier to express yourself in English! I can say whatever the hell I want, and no one gives a shit. Its weird. Its not like I censored myself in Japanese, its just like when I speak in Japanese, I think differently. Shit doesnt even occur to me. Same thing in English, I guess. I cant say a bunch of normal stuff from Japanese without it sounding totally messed up in English. You ever notice that?
My God, it was like Hibiki with Dannys mouth. Ive died and was sent to hell.
You just thought something rude, didnt you?
Even before the thought to stand and flee entered his mind, she had her hand on his shoulder.
So Trash, arent you going to talk with me?
Who are you? He asked the question without irony. He could not understand what was happening right now.
I already introduced myself. Twice actually. I could ask you the same question, Trash, she said, emphasizing his nickname.
But, to be honest, Im not that interested. I just want to know what your boy is gonna do.
Huh? Pazu?
Yeah. Boy is standing on a cliff right now. Im sure he knows it too.
Trash frowned. Maybe he was misunderstanding her English.
Hes in danger? What kind of danger? What are you talking about?
Yes, he is in danger. Surely, you know. Thought you guys are besties and all.
We are. So tell me what is wrong with him. Is Saki going to attack him or something?
She guffawed, her laugh was loud enough that her head turned to see where the noise was coming from.
You dont get it, do you? She aint gonna hurt him. I am. If he doesnt fix things immediately. Shes the victim here.
Saki? The victim? What are you talking about?
Hes been holding out on her. You know that. You must know that. She knows it. Everyone knows, but he just keeps pretending everything is all cool. Shes sick of it, and if he doesnt have a good explanation for it all, then hell be lucky if the worst thing that happens to him tonight is that she dumps his ass.
Huh? Are you talking about the live streaming? Is that what this is all about?
Live streaming? What does that have to do with Finally, she pulled back from him with a confused look.
I thought they were fighting about the live streaming again.
Who cares about that kind of stuff? Saki is sick of him keeping secrets from her while he tells you everything. If Pazu isnt ready to step up, shes going to dump him and move on.
What? Step up? Secrets? Saki wants to break up with him?
This is why boys are useless. Cause youre all so dumb.
She reached up and knocked on his head a couple of times like it was an empty coconut.
Hmm. Tall brother, aint cha? How tall are you anyway?
180 wait. Why is Saki going to dump Pazu? If anything, he should be th Trash stopped, danger alarms going as a murderous glint entered Megs eyes.
Are you trying to say he isnt hiding something?
Trash paused, then looked down, realizing his reaction had blown it.
Everyone hides things. No one shares everything.
Saki has hit a wall with Pazu and he wont even tell her why. Every time, he just blows it off.
Pazu its complicated. He needs time-
He has had time. If I am reading Saki right, he has about ten more minutes.
Trash finally understood what was going on. He understood the stakes. He just wanted to know what to do.
He checked his watch. It was still just before midnight. It should be fine. If it would save his friend some pain, he would trade in as many secrets as he had. He owed Pazu that and more.
Trash grabbed the check from the table, then hoisted up the bags. Turning his head as he walked toward the register to pay for the meal they were not going to even eat, he shouted back to the shocked Meg.
You coming?
They found Pazu and Saki outside the restaurant. It was obvious that Saki had been crying, and Pazu was looking angry and frustrated, two emotions that Trash only recognized because they had been friends for years.
He motioned for Saki and Meg to follow as he grabbed Pazus sleeve and pulled him ahead.
Whats going on? Why are we leaving? I havent even paid yet.
I took care of it. You can pay me back tomorrow If you are still speaking to me.
Huh? Whats going on? Where are we going?
Not far. Someplace I havent even shown you yet. From my personal stash.
What?
You have to tell her. Tell her everything, or give up on her.
Huh? What are you talking about?
She knows you are holding back, and if you dont explain to her now, then you might as well just give up and move on.
Pazu stopped, but Trash pulled him back into motion.
Trash do I have to?
Dont you know, only humans can feel shame
It took a few seconds, but Pazu recognized the quote.
Okay, friend, where are you taking us?
Beyond the peaks of those clouds, where nothing can be seen.
This time, Pazu stopped hard. He swallowed hard, then jumped onto Trashs back, attempting to give him a bear hug.
Trash, you are the coolest!
Get off, you freak!
Hey! You guys want to explain where we are going? Came an annoyed voice from behind.
Trash stopped. They were standing in front of a fancy-looking designer condominium. It was rather narrow, but it shot up at least fifteen stories, making it the tallest building on the block. Trash tilted his head up, looking at the top floor. Then turned to face their confused looks.
Were here.
Chapter Sixteen: But Our Princess is in Another Castle!
Chapter Sixteen: But Our Princess is in Another Castle!
This was officially the worst idea Trash had ever had in his entire life.
He had been so self-satisfied when he showed them the trick to open the security gate blocking the emergency exit stairway. Once the group realized what the plan was, they enthusiastically joined in. That enthusiasm lasted until the tenth floor.
Trash had made the trip before, but not carrying two bags full of electronic equipment. He should have left it on the ground floor, but considering the whole breaking and entering aspect, he hadnt even bothered asking if it was okay.
Now, thirteen floors up, Trash regretted everything. This was a bad, bad, bad idea.
Oh my God. This is amazing. You guys have to see this.
Meg called down from two floors above. Saki was just getting there, but seemed too winded to say anything, while Pazu was barely keeping pace with Trash.
It took a couple more minutes of slow climbing, but finally, Trash and Pazu stepped off the emergency maintenance staircase and onto the small platform at the top of the narrow building.
There was plenty of space for them to stand there, but not much more. It was more than a little bit frightening as there was only a thin metal barrier, as high as Trashs waist, to prevent something or someone from falling off.
Bending over with his hands on his knees, Trash was sucking in air, trying to replace the lung he lost a few floors down. Pazu was not much better off, and was sitting on the roof with his eyes closed.
The girls, however, were in better shape, and were marveling at the view.
I had no idea it was so close.
Its amazing. Watching fireworks from up here would be the best.
Thats the Sumida River, right?
Pazu! Come see this!
Trash straightened up, then took a look eastward, away from the train tracks.
Tokyo Skytree, the new broadcast tower in Sumida Ward, was not open yet, but the main construction was complete, and they had started testing some of the lighting systems. From Akihabara, there were not many places with unobstructed views of the construction, but this condominium currently had one of the best views of the future landmark.
At over 600 meters, the tower was nearly twice the height of the iconic Tokyo Tower in the southern part of central Tokyo.
Is it already finished?
I want to see it all lit up, it should be amazing.
Trash had guessed right. The clouds actually reflected enough light back down to make it easier to see.
Just a minute, Trash announced.
He had heard that they were conducting tests of some of the LED systems on the tower this month. It was likely the last time until they did the full systems tests scheduled for the late fall.
His contact, another Geek customer who worked for the company that designed the lighting system, promised him that if he went somewhere with a view of the tower from midnight to 12:30 AM on any weekday this month, he should see some of the lights getting activated.
Sure enough, a squeal from Saki a few seconds later confirmed it.
Pazu jumped up to see what they were talking about, then immediately got dizzy and wobbled a bit until Trash grabbed him to stabilize him.
Whoa! That is Is it lighting up?
Yes! Well, a little bit, at least.
Trash watched as lines of light crisscrossed across the giant tower.
Ohh! Its changing color!
Unlike the Tokyo Tower, which was painted bright red, then had giant spotlights illuminating the entire structure, this new tower was supposed to have an internal lighting system. They would be able to change its color, or even animate it according to a computer control system.
For now, it just looked like a few of the lights were working, and only small sections were lit up at a time.
Still, this was a sight few people in the country had seen so far, and very few with their naked eyes.
Turning to his friend, he nodded.
You said you were waiting for the right moment. This is as good as I can do, so why dont you give it a go?
With that, Trash started back down the stairs.
Meg, sensing the moment, took one last look at the view, and then smiled at her friend. She patted Pazu on the shoulder and followed Trash down the staircase.
She found him two stories down. They were far enough to give the two above some privacy, but could still see the tower just clearing the buildings across the street. He motioned for her to sit next to him, and she joined him.
So, is he going to propose or something?
Trash got a sad look, then shook his head.
No, probably not. I mean, I dont think so. Shoot, do you think she expects him to
A look of horror formed on his face.
Huh? Then whats the big secret? Why would you drag us all up there for some amazing romantic moment unless
He could see her trying to figure it out, so he stopped her before she came up with something even stranger.
I might as well tell you, whether or not he has the guts, its all coming out now.
Meg gave him a serious look, then nodded.
Ive known Pazu since middle school. I used to get bullied-
You? Who would dare-
Not like that serious stuff. Just kids called me names and locked me out you know, stupid kid games.
Her expression darkened. He was sure she understood what he was talking about.
Yeah. I get it.
Well, Pazu He was the only one who talked to me. We got to be friends shortly before graduation. We met here, actually, in Akiba. He knew why the kids hassled me, but he hung out with me anyway. Even though a small kid like him, that was almost asking the other kids to bully him, too.
She nodded again, her jaw tightening as she ground her teeth together.
Anyway, We stayed friends, even after middle school. He went to a good high school while I went vocational. All these years, he and I would roam the streets of Akiba. The geek lords of this place. Trust me, compared to him, Im a freaking normie. Hes the uber-geek.
That announcement was met with skepticism, but she nodded again for him to continue.
So you can understand how shocked I was when he started into this cooking YouTube thing. It was so out of character.
It had truly been a shock to Trash. The boy who had dragged him down this path was now cooking, opening a restaurant, and getting a girlfriend.
Ill be honest, I felt like he was abandoning me. I felt a little betrayed even. Then, one day, he told me the truth. Why he was doing what he was doing, and it all made perfect sense.
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This better be good. Im so tense now if you say this is all a joke, youll be flying down.
Pazu has always been small, and always been a bit on the sick side. He never told me, but in High school, they sent him to the US to see a specialist. Hes got some kind of heart defect. They say its genetic. They say its a miracle that he lived to see ten years, let alone twenty. Theres nothing they can do to treat it.
He heard Meg gasp, but didnt have the nerve to turn to look at her. He just faced the tower and kept speaking.
Hes the best guy; you know? He says not to worry about it. He says nobody knows how long they have. Since the doctors dont know how long he has left, he just wants to keep living like he doesnt know about it. But he does know; and thats why hes such a good guy.
What does that mean?
The cooking, the streaming. He told me he had a dream one night. He was talking to people, and they were telling him their stories. They were all poor, and forgotten. He listened to them and promised to tell the world their stories. So no one would forget them when they were gone.
He looked up and wondered how things were going. Was he telling Saki everything? The way he had told Trash?
To be honest, Pazu is a mid cook. I mean, I dont turn away anything, and his stuff isnt bad, but hes no genius chef. What he is good at, though, is talking. He is good at people. He listens, and he makes you feel better. I think thats why his YouTube does well. People like to hear him talk.
Meg nodded. She had noticed that. She had been translating for him for weeks now, and that much was clear. It was what drew Saki to him in the first place.
So he said that his goal is to make a channel where he cooks food, and then gives it away. He wants to make his restaurant free for anyone who needs a meal. In exchange, they just need to tell him their story. He will tell those stories while he cooks in the videos. He wants that to be the content. The stories of the forgotten people of Tokyo. He said that was going to be his lifes mission, for as long as he has left.
So the live-streaming
Yeah. It doesnt fit his dream. It scares him, actually. His goal isnt to be big so he can be rich. He never wanted to be the focus. Thats why he was so eager to have Saki join in the first place.
Why didnt he just say that? Why keep it secret?
Cause hes stupid. Hes shy and because he really likes Saki. He knows she has her own dreams and he was afraid if they didnt align with his, then she might leave.
God! You boys are so stupid! So he likes her that much? So much that hes been torturing her? I outta pound you both.
It was odd how she kept switching from Japanese to English, but he was finally getting somewhat used to it at least.
Then what about you?
Me?
You like her too, right?
Trash started coughing, then slipped as he shifted and had to grab the railing to keep from sliding off the stairs.
Dont even try to deny it after that reaction.
I but I never-
Boys are so stupid. I swear!
Does Saki know?
Huh? Of course, she knows; Pazu knows; Hell, I know, and I barely know you.
Trash started coughing again.
She stood up and pulled him back from the railing.
We better walk down before you fall off the side of the building. Saki will never believe that I didnt throw you off.
Do they really know? Since when?
You have as much guile as a Street Fighter all-female fighter tournament.
Trashs eyes widened at the referential joke.
Forget it. Dont even think about falling for me, Cherry-boy. Meg doesnt swing that way.
Huh? Trash took a moment for that to sink in.
You mean you
Yup. Got something to say about it?
No! No. Youre cool, I mean, thats cool
They kept walking down the stairs in silence. Just before they reached the last flight of stairs, a thought occurred to him.
You and Saki Were you
He shut up the moment he saw the murderous look in the darkness.
She looked like she was going to drag him back up the stairs just to throw him off, but then her look softened.
Lets just say, you and I have something in common besides English, and hanging out in maid cafes.
I was just there-
Just kidding. I know about your creepy deal. Saki told me. You ask me, You should stay away from that guy. Hes got Poor Decision Making Skills tattooed to his forehead.
Hes not that bad.
Speaking of English, where did you learn English anyway? Saki and Pazu are both useless. I was surprised at how bad everyone is now. I thought things were better when I still lived here.
Trash was about to answer when they heard the gate open behind them.
A red-eyed Saki and an embarrassed Pazu greeted them, hands intertwined.
Meg gave Trash a grin, then went over to give Saki a hug when the small girl darted away from Pazu and rushed straight toward Trash.
The punch to his stomach was completely unexpected. He toppled to the ground with the wind knocked out of him as he felt several more punches impact against his side.
Meg quickly grabbed Saki, holding her back as Pazu rushed over to block her attacks.
You asshole! How could you make him climb all those stairs? What the fuck were you thinking? You stupid freeloading piece of shit? Im gonna-
Meg was laughing as she held back a screaming Saki, while Pazu tried to calm her down, and Trash just kept sucking in air.
A light went on in one of the condominiums above, so they quickly retreated, and eventually ended up back at the Jonathans.
They even got the same booth, and the manager remembered them and comped the drink bars and one of the dishes they had ordered that the kitchen had not started preparing when they had rushed out. It was nice to be recognized as a regular sometimes.
Saki now sat next to Pazu and babied him for the rest of the night, though she still continued to call him stupid owner.
Pazu sat next to Meg, and he explained how he was learning English for his online business, while she shared stories of growing up in New York.
They ended up staying out so long that by the time they managed to crawl back to Charon, light was starting to peek out on the horizon.
After dropping off the gear, Trash begged to be released, which Pazu granted after giving him a long bear hug.
Thanks, my friend. You know Ill always have your back, just like you have always had mine.
Comrades for life, Trash confirmed.
The morning sun was clearly visible in the sky by the time Trash made it back to his apartment. Exhausted, he simply collapsed on his bed and passed out immediately.
He awoke what felt like a few minutes later, but the suns position told him it was now past noon.
Rolling off of the bed onto the floor, he pondered what to do. It was Friday, usually a day when he would hit as many of his hunting grounds to see if he could find any rare items for auctioning online. Stores often dropped extra stock on Fridays in anticipation of heavier foot traffic on the weekend.
But he also realized that he had less than a week before he was going to be evicted. This presented two difficult, but related problems. The first was finding a new place to live. He had done some searching and found a place that would rent a bare-bones one-room closet apartment for around 50,000 a month. After deposits and the first and last month, the down payment could balloon to 25,000 easily, which would wipe him out until the extra payment came through from Danny.
To say that he was still nervous that the money would actually show up was a wild understatement. For now, he was happy that he at least had something in the bank, although it wouldnt solve his problems immediately.
The second problem he needed to solve would be painful to deal with, but considering a week ago, his situation was so dire that he had just written the whole thing off, it now presented a chance for an unpleasant, but workable solution.
Stepping over his shoes, Trash went into the second room on the second floor. This room was completely packed with shelving. Even the floor space between the shelves was covered and stacked with boxes.
The entire room was packed, nearly floor to ceiling. This was his store room. Every bit of treasure that Trash had accumulated was in this room. The full inventory was in a spreadsheet on his phone, and the estimated value was significant. That said, most of the items there were incredibly difficult to sell, so the real worth of it all was highly questionable.
Losing the factory meant losing this storage space. He could rent a storage room somewhere, but the cost and inconvenience would be expensive. Most of them were far outside of town, and the cost would quickly drain any value the items had and render the whole thing a money pit.
He could save a few boxes worth maybe. Beg Pazu to find a corner in his closet for some of the most rare video games. He could also increase the amount of stuff he had in his rental boxes, but that might overclutter them, and could result in lower sales, again further compromising what little leeway he had.
That left divestment.
He could hit the used shops and video game stores and dump everything for a fraction of their market worth.
He didnt have time to try to put on a fire sale online, and to be honest, he didnt have the heart. If he had to go over each item one by one, after putting so much work into finding everything, it would drive him to despair.
No, it would be better just to rip off the bandage. Get as much cash as possible from his stock, and put it all together to regroup and find a new path forward.
It was the only rational plan left. If he spent the weekend sorting and performing triage, he could probably get rid of almost everything by Monday, freeing up his footprint to practically nothing. Then, he just needed to find a place to stay.
He hoped he could find a way to stay in Akiba, but he knew from a cost perspective, that was unlikely, maybe up in Minami Senju. He had seen some good prices when he looked it up, and it wasnt too far away.
The thought of losing this collection was breaking his heart, but having survived the last couple of days, he felt that he was getting stronger. He thought that maybe he could find a way out of this mess, although he wasnt sure how much of his old self would make it through.
He was about to pick up one of the boxes to check the content when Trash heard his phone ring. It was still on his bed, so he hopped over the staircase and ran back to find the phone in his bedding.
Miraculously, he picked up the call before the caller hung up.
Hello, is this Mr Trash? A male voice said in Japanese-accented English.
This is Trash, He answered in Japanese.
The relieved caller continued.
Mr. Trash. Im sorry for the many calls. We have been trying to reach you earlier, but were unable to get through.
Trash looked down at the screen of his phone and realized that he had slept through at least a dozen call attempts. He must have subconsciously snoozed the calls without even noticing.
Im sorry I missed the calls. Could I ask who this is?
My apologies again, Mr. Trash. This is the main reception of the Victoria Hotel in Yurakucho.
Trash sucked in his breath. That was Dannys hotel.
Yes?
Please forgive this intrusion. This is the emergency contact number left by one of our guests.
Danny? Mr. Landis, you mean?
Yes Yes. A Mr. Daniel Landis.
How can I help you?
Is Mr. Landis with you now, by any chance?
That was strange. He was sure Danny would have left for the airport by now.
Umm. No, is everything alright?
Im sorry to have bothered you. Its just that Mr. Landis should have checked out, but his room was checked several hours ago, and all his possessions were still in place. We are trying to contact him to make sure he is alright. If you hear from Mr. Landis, could you ask him to contact the front reception at the Victoria as soon as possible?
Uh. Sure.
Thank you, Mr. Trash, and my apologies again for disturbing you.
Chapter Seventeen: My Last Job Was a Long Story Filled With Sighs.
Chapter Seventeen: My Last Job Was a Long Story Filled With Sighs.
His phone told him it was almost four in the afternoon. Trash wasnt sure what to make of the strange call. Danny didnt check out of his hotel? Did he miss his flight?
Well, there was nothing he could do. He didnt have Dannys phone number, so all he could do was send him a DM over Twitter. Besides, it was not his problem.
In the back of his head, he was a little concerned about the payment that he had been promised. He currently had nearly 250,000 yen, and if Danny was serious, there was another 500,000 on the way. Still, he had decided that he was done jumping through hoops to get that money. If he got it, great. If not, well he would be lying if he said it wouldnt be a blow, but he was glad to be done with this drama.
He decided to go and take a shower, and clean himself up, and then make something to eat. After that, he would decide if he would go out or just stay in today and sort through the collection.
He looked around the room and realized that hissing day was already predetermined. He had no more clean clothes.
Half an hour later, he was at the 24-hour coin laundry that was a short walk from the other side of the train tracks.
The machines were large, and mostly empty at this time of day, so he should be done in about an hour. After loading up his clothes, he made a quick run to the convenience store on the corner to find something to eat.
He spent five minutes just repeatedly looking at the different lunchbox offerings. Any time he decided to splurge on a convenience store lunch, he went through the same pattern. He would check through everything they had, hoping that there was something interesting on sale. Then he would get tempted by the more premium options, pork cutlet rice bowl, grilled barbecue eels, or sometimes a German sausage stew. After weighing the costs to calories, he would inevitably fall back to one of his regular menus. Fried chicken with rice or Napolitan pasta.
Having filled up on fried food the night before, he went with the pasta. He also grabbed a carton of coffee milk to wash it down. The clerk rang up his purchases and heated the pasta in the high-power microwave behind the counter.
After throwing his clothes into a pair of dryers, Trash squatted outside the laundry and ate his lunch. He regretted, once again, not keeping a bottle of Tabasco on him. They never added enough to satisfy him. Still, the sour, sweet, and spicy noodles were filling and tasty. After finishing, he drained the milk, then wiped the red sauce from his mouth, grateful that the clerk had remembered to add the wet paper napkin to his bag. Sometimes they forgot, and when eating Napolitan, a face wipe was an absolute necessity for human dignity.
Trash had just finished cleaning up and tossing the remains in the garbage when his phone rang.
It was another unknown number. He didnt like the feeling he had rising up his spine.
Mr. Trash. This is the main reception of the Victoria Hotel in Yurakucho. We spoke earlier.
Yes?
There was no chance that they would call an emergency contact number to tell him everything was fine.
Im terribly sorry to bother you again. I was hoping you have been able to contact Mr. Landis?
Im sorry, I havent heard from him.
I see That is concerning.
Trash was about to end the call when the man on the other end said something so strange that he simply froze.
Do you think it would be possible for you to come to the hotel?
The request was so strange, that he didnt know how to respond. He had never heard of anything so absurd. Why would they ask him to come to the hotel? Maybe Danny was hurt, but then why did they ask him if he knew where to find him?
Mr. Trash?
His mind raced. They didnt know his real name, but they did have his phone number. If he just hung up, then all they could do was keep calling him. But he had no idea what was going on. What if Danny had gotten into some kind of accident? Would he be held responsible in some way? Danny put down his information and gave it to the hotel. What if they gave that information to the police?
Mr. Trash, are you still there?
Oh, sorry. Can you tell me what is wrong?
Im sorry, Its not something I can discuss over the phone. If you could come here we, we would like to discuss the situation.
Oh shit. That sounded bad. Maybe Danny got hit by a car or something?
Its not like he owed Danny anything anymore. If there was a problem, he was under no obligation to help him anymore. He was just a customer. He should just hang up.
Mr. Trash?
Uhhh, Im sorry, I dont think I can go there right now.
All I can say is that this is a serious matter. We would greatly appreciate it if you could make some time.
He hated it when people talked down to him like that. Spoke to him in a way that there was no choice but to simply comply. That was how his uncle always talked. Asking a question, but making it obvious that there was only one correct answer. This fucking hotel receptionist was acting like he could order Trash to do whatever he needed.
Well, Trash had already decided not to live in that world. He did not have to do shit.
Trashs anger had him ready to disconnect the call, and then the voice on the phone brought out bigger guns.
We are trying to get things resolved without having to contact the authorities
Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The absolute last thing he needed in the world right now was to have to deal with the police. They had his phone number. They knew his handle name. Maybe they could access his emails and stuff. He had read some police comics where they could get into your emails and see who you were talking to and what about.
Its not like Trash was a crook, but he wasnt exactly pristine clean, either. If something did happen to Danny, they would have to find someone to blame, and he was the only one that was convenient.
Danny, that fucker! What had he done?
Mr. Trash. We can send a car to pick you up if that is convenient.
No!
Damn it! Now they had him.
No. Ill get there myself.
The last thing he wanted was to tell them where he lived.
That is appreciated. How long do you think it will take for you to get here? Do you know the address?
Yes, I know your location. I can be there in Is an hour acceptable?
Yes, that would be fine. When you reach the reception, please ask for Shinohara. If you need transportation, just call and we can send a car to pick you up.
No, Im fine.
I see. Thank you for your time, and again, I sincerely apologize for disturbing your day.
Bastard! Trash hung up the phone and resisted the urge to throw it against the wall.
Maybe he could just take the money in his account and make a run for it. Its not like he did anything wrong, and his life here in Akihabara was pretty much over anyway. Its not like he owed Danny anything else.
Except The money he had in his pocket came from Danny. Pretty much everything in his bank account too. He hadnt even come through with Sakamoto. Still, Danny said he would give him his full commission.
The buzzer rang. The drying cycle was finished.
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Trash woke up from a daze. He quickly stuffed his laundry bag with the pleasantly warm clothes, then hurried back toward the factory.
He stopped at the threshold. Was he really going to go through with this? He thought to himself.
An honest man only leaves his home once a day.
The hollow voice rang in his ears.
Wake up, go to work, do your business, come back, go to sleep. Thats it. Every day. If you want to be happy, thats all you have to do. Never waver, never lie, never step outside a second time once you are home.
When his father spoke those words in one of his drunken lectures, Trash hadnt understood it all. It was nonsensical. Later, shortly before his death, he finally heard the whole story from his father. The cause of the collapse of his family. The reason why Trash had such a miserable life and the one mistake his father made that led to it.
It was a silly rule, but Trash had tried to keep it. With very few exceptions, he had kept it, too, not that it had brought him any happiness after all.
As he stepped through the door, Trash accepted that this would be another one of those times he broke the rule.
Considering where he was going, he decided to take a quick shower. He was glad that he had freshly laundered clothes and even smiled as he pulled on the warm shorts, jeans, and plain black t-shirt. Then he threw on his bad-luck-jacket as it would forever be called going forward.
The MS-09 was custom handmade. This was the only one in the world. It was also the only gift he had ever received from a girl. A thank you for a favor he had done for the tailor. He was sure it could sell for a fortune on auction, but of every treasure he had in his collection, this was the last thing he would willingly part with, regardless of the price.
Now, it had been tainted with misfortune, cursed even. Maybe after this was all over, he would retire it to the closet. But until then, he would wear it and let it suck up all the bad luck that he seemed to be swimming in.
He shoved his wallet and phone into his jacket pocket. Then stepped outside, heading for the station.
The Victoria Hotel had to be the most lavishly extravagant building he had ever stepped foot in.
The lobby, which faced the Imperial Palace grounds, was a ridiculous display of wealth. Golden wallpaper, stone floors, and elaborate chandeliers. No less than six staff members stood by the entrance, bowing and greeting guests. Trash felt that everyone in the lobby must be staring at him, wondering what someone like him was doing there.
Everyone here is dressed like a celebrity or a character in a TV show. There were no ill-fitting suits or flannel shirts. As alien as Shibuya was from Akihabara, this strange world seemed even further from his understanding.
His very existence in this place also seemed to create a disturbance. Moments after walking through the door, a woman who looked like she had been ripped from the cover of a fashion magazine stepped over to him.
Welcome to the Victoria Hotel. Can I be of any assistance?
He blinked, nearly blinded by her cheerful greeting. There was no sense of the forced smiles that he got from the maids in Akihabara. He was certain that underneath, she was seething at his audacity even to enter this place. She must be cursing him, and was ready to call the maintenance team to clean up after he spoiled this shining floor as soon as he left. Her mask was perfect, however. She gave the impression that despite being a higher life form than he, there was nothing that would make her happier than for him to tell her what horrible mistake had led him to wander into this place.
Umm, Im looking for Shinohara? He said, his voice full of uncertainty.
Of course, she said, smiling as though it was the most normal thing in the world for a geek to come in here and ask for a staff member by name.
Please, she motioned with her hand toward a large sofa to the side of the reception desk.
Trash sat down, not knowing how long he would need to wait.
The woman walked over to the reception desk and said something to another staff member who picked up a phone.
Less than a minute later, a man walked into the lobby from the back.
He seemed older than his voice on the phone. He looked like one of those elite businessmen they show in the movies. Or a CEO of a major company. While the staff all wore identical uniforms, expensive formal suits in dark colors, This man wore a very expensive-looking light grey business suit with a canary yellow tie.
The woman he had spoken to nodded to Trash on the sofa, and the man moved swiftly yet effortlessly to stand in front of him.
In perfect English, the man greeted him. It was clear this was not the man he spoke with on the phone earlier.
Mr. Trash? Thank you very much for coming. My name is Harold Shinohara. Im the General Manager of the Victoria Hotel.
It took a moment for the words to register in his brain. Switching to English, he just nodded lamely.
Y-yes
Oh, forgive me. Is Japanese preferable?
Either, Maybe Japanese?
Certainly. If you dont mind, can we go somewhere where we can sit and talk?
He just nodded, and the man guided him to an elevator.
Swiping a card, he pushed a button, and the elevator started moving.
Trash watched as the numbers above the door kept climbing. Soon, they were near the top of the building.
As the doors to the elevator opened, Trash was shocked by the scene in front of him.
Glass walls directly in front of him gave him a perfect view of the Imperial Palace grounds and all of Western Tokyo. He had never been inside the home of the Emperor, even when they opened it up to official tours on special holidays. Now, looking down, he was amazed that they were even allowed to build a hotel where you could see every part of the palace.
The sun was just beginning to drop low in the sky, and it was creating an amazing view as it descended to the mountains west of the city. Trash could even see Mount Fuji, poking up above some clouds, far to the southwest.
Looking around, he realized they were in some kind of a high-end bar. There were no other people around, however.
The man, Mr. Shinohara, gestured to a table near the window, and they both sat down.
Thank you again for coming here in response to our request. I appreciate the time and effort.
Still stunned, Trash just shook his head.
Im sorry for being so abrupt, but time is a concern. Do you mind if I ask you what your relationship is with Mr Landis?
N-nothing. I mean. He is just a customer of mine. I dont really know him.
Trash noticed a small nod, as though the hotel manager was disappointed, but also well-rehearsed in hiding his true feelings. His face betrayed not even a shadow of emotion beyond his polite, smiling mask.
I understand. Im afraid we are having difficulty locating Mr. Landis, and this may soon become a troublesome thing.
Is there something wrong?
Im afraid that Mr. Landis did not check out at the expected time this morning. He also missed the appointment for the car that we booked to take him to the airport.
Is that so serious? Maybe he just went out drinking last night and-
Before Trash could go on, the manager continued.
Of course, it would be no problem to simply extend Mr. Landiss stay. We would be happy to help him rebook his flight as well. The concern lies with his room. Im afraid that when the housekeeping staff entered his room this morning to service the room, they found some disturbing things.
Trash didnt like where this was going.
Im sorry, I dont think I can help you. I havent seen Danny since yesterday afternoon. I have no idea what he was doing last night.
I see. That is unfortunate. As we are unable to determine his current situation, we would have no other option but to contact the authorities in order to gain their assistance to ensure his safety.
Huh? Why involve the police?
Mr. Trash, may I rely on your discretion?
That was confusing. Why was this man acting so suspiciously? Bringing him up to this place and talking to him like this?
Umm. Y-yeah?
Mr. Landis is a VIP guest of the Victoria. As such, he is given extra care and consideration. We also do whatever we can to ensure his time with us is pleasant and, of course, safe.
I thought this was Dannys first trip to Japan?
Yes, of course, but he has has spent many nights with us in our Singapore, Hong Kong, and London Hotels.
Of course, that hadnt occurred to Trash. He nodded his understanding, and then Shinohara continued with his explanation.
When the state of Mr. Landiss room was reported to the front desk, I was immediately contacted.
What was wrong with his room?
Immediately, Trash regretted interrupting the man again. The reaction was subtle, but Trash could tell that he had better let the man finish before interrupting again.
In addition to Mr Landiss possessions being left unpacked, there was considerable disorder in the room. There was also some damage that we cannot determine the cause of.
Manager Shinohara reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Trash noticed that it was a new iPhone 4, the model released just the day before. He had forgotten all about it. The new design was certainly eye-catching compared to the previous model. He wondered how a busy man like this had gotten ahold of one.
Activating his phone, the manager selected several photographs and angled the phone so that Trash could clearly see the screen. What he saw was a huge hotel room. It was one of those rooms with multiple rooms. More like a house, with bedrooms, dining rooms, and more comfort than you could ever need while traveling.
Then, as he focused on the photographs, Trash saw what the manager was talking about. The room was trashed. The furniture was smashed. The television set seemed tilted down from its position on the wall. There were plates and bottles with what looked like red wine splashed all over the white carpeting.
As you can see, we feel there is more than enough reason to be concerned about Mr. Landiss absence. If at all possible, we would prefer to maintain his privacy, but if his safety is at stake, we must contact the authorities to get their assistance in locating him.
Trash was still staring at the photographs with wide eyes. Reaching out, he swiped his finger across the screen, looking at the carnage in the opulent room. Then, he swiped past the last photograph and saw what appeared to be a video taken from security cameras. The color was bad, and the movement was choppy, but the image quality was good.
That is security footage from the lobby from this morning. It is the last time we were able to locate Mr. Landis on the premises.
Looking at the corner, it appeared the video was captured shortly after eight this morning.
Trash watched as a disheveled-looking Danny stepped out of the elevator. He stopped, checking himself in the reflective surface of the elevator door, then tidied himself up, straightening up his clothes and fixing his hair.
The video switched to another angle, following Danny as he walked to the front entrance. Trash was about to look away when he saw another figure enter the video.
Danny walked up to the new arrival, then they both turned together and walked out the front doors.
Shinohara caught the shocked look on Trashs face as the video played.
Do you know who that man is?
Realizing his face just gave everything away, Trash simply nodded.
Trash took the phone from the manager, restarting the video and watching it more closely. There was no question who Danny had met.
Please give me a few hours. I think I might know where Danny is. He should be safe I think.
Thinking over his options for a moment, Trash came to a decision.
Ill track him down and get him to contact you. Is that okay?
The manager looked at an expensive watch on his wrist. Then he nodded.
That would be a great relief. If I cant get in contact with Mr. Landis by tomorrow morning at 10 AM, I will have no choice. Ill need to contact the authorities. Please do what you can to let me know that he is fine by then.
Taking a business card holder from his pocket, the manager removed one card and presented it to Trash with both hands. Trash accepted it in the same manner.
Also, could I get a copy of this picture?
Trash had stopped the video at the moment Danny stood alongside a large African man wearing a poor fitting suit. It was the old goats manservant, Agbor.
Chapter Eighteen: YOU DIED
Chapter Eighteen: YOU DIED
TRASH [Does it still work?]
RYO [Probably _()_/]
TRASH [Check 4me?]
RYO [Dont wanna 3ޣ?]
TRASH [YRU such an (?|?)? (?ġ)]
RYO [Not my problem]
TRASH [This whole thing is your fault (0)]
RYO [(~o~)]
TRASH [Just check]
RYO [2Risky 4me]
TRASH [DUDE went missing getting your ]
RYO [Where is my ???????]
TRASH [No Lancelet, NO ??????! ?(.???)?]
RYO [Still]
TRASH [Got MANAKA Standup. ?++ Launch]
RYO [()]
TRASH [HELP ME, HELP U]
RYO [TMM ( ɡ ? `)?]
TRASH [Deal ON, 20K]
TRASH [Deal OFF, 10,000K]
RYO [(㧥)]
TRASH [Not my problem]
RYO [Bikini?]
TRASH [Of course. ????(??? )]
RYO [Ping. 00:00 Yurakucho]
RYO [Ping. 06:00 Yurakucho]
RYO [Ping. 12:00 Ginza]
RYO [Ping. 18:00 Shibuya]
TRASH [WTF]
RYO [Yurakucho is Victoria Hotel?]
RYO [Ginza is District 7]
RYO [Shibuya is Takeshita Street]
TRASH [MAP? Where NOW?]
RYO [No Map. Just coordinates. 1 ping every 6 hrs.]
RYO [Next Ping 00:00]
RYO [Now get my ??????]
RYO [&MANAKA]
TRASH [( -)Ŧj???h (??")/]
I so hate that guy.
Yeah, Hes a prick. What did he say?
Trash was back at the Charon. The first thing he did after leaving the hotel was start chatting with Sakamoto. First, he wanted to know if Danny had reached out to him. Of course, he hadnt.
Then he remembered Sakamoto talking about the tracking software that he had installed in the prototype of the Sounds Princess. It was a simple utility that only Sakamoto had the codes to access, supposedly anyway. Convincing him to use it to check on Dannys location had been challenging however, and the results were disappointing.
It was like he was going in circles. This was his own fault. He had pulled Pazu in. Trash had convinced him to introduce him to the Old Goat. Now Danny was missing, and Hibiki had something to do with it. When Trash had shown the picture to Pazu, his friend confirmed it was Agbor, Hibikis butler/bodyguard.
That guy was super scary. He hardly ever talks, just sits out in front of the store. He wont help out in the store unless the Old Goat tells him to. Ive heard stories, though. Tons of rumors about him in Harajuku. Some people say that he was living on the street in London when Hibiki found him and brought him to Japan. Another story said that he was some warlord in Nigeria who owed Hibiki a life-debt.
What should we do? Call up the Old Goat and ask him where Danny is?
Are you kidding? Youve met him. Hes freaking scary.
I thought he likes you?
He likes my parents. I dont know why. I think my dad did some business with him a long time ago, and he kind of adopted them. They still go see him every New Year.
What about those pictures on the wall? Danny said it was full of famous people.
Youre joking, right? Dont you ever read the newspaper? That wall has like ALL the famous people. Prime ministers and world leaders. Every sports hero and famous celebrity. They all make the pilgrimage to see him.
Why? Whats so special about him?
Pazu shrugged. No idea. Its not like I care about that kind of stuff. But at least I can recognize a picture of the Prime Minister of Japan.
Danny said Bill Clinton was up there. Like the real Bill Clinton?
Probably. Honestly, I never saw anyone at all. Not even customers. That place is always empty except at night. Thats when people just show up, and then the old man meets with them in his sitting room.
Sounds like an easy job.
It was sooo boring. So I told him I was going to quit, and he seemed perfectly fine with it. Anyway, I was already starting to look at YouTube by then. Actually, thats where I started. All I did all day for those two weeks was sit and watch YouTube videos on his computer by the register.
Were getting off track. What should we do about Danny?
I dont know. Hell be fine, I think. The Old Goat is weird, but hes not like a real gangster. Besides, its not like he has any reason to hurt your friend, right?
Hes not my friend. Just a customer. But what about the hotel room?
Maybe he got drunk and smashed it up himself?
Trash had to admit that Pazu was probably right. Besides, what could he do? He didnt even know what he should do. His only stake in this was getting Danny onto that airplane so he could send Trash the money he promised.
That and trying to keep the police out of this whole mess.
As for whatever deals he had made with Hibiki and what happened with Sakamoto, he really didnt care anymore.
Its just
Just what? Pazu looked worried. Not about Danny, but concerned that Trash was getting pulled into something weird.
If the hotel calls the police. They are going to come looking for me. The hotel had my number, and now they even know what I look like. If the cops come asking about Danny, what can I tell them? If that old man knows Prime Ministers, he has nothing to fear, but what about me? Shit, Pazu, am I screwed?
Well, yeah. I mean, you were already getting evicted in less than a week, right?
Not helping! Trash could feel a panic attack coming.
Look. Why dont we go over there? Wait until midnight and see if Sakamotos magic phone pings inside the record store. If it does, we have a reason to knock on the door and ask to talk to Danny. If not, we can stay away from the old man, and out of his business.
Huh? You would go over there with me?
Of course! Im telling you, hes not that bad. Just weird. Id just rather not knock on his door and accuse him of kidnapping.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
What about?
Saki? Shes over at Megs tonight. I wont tell her if you dont.
If she finds out, shell just yell at you. Shell kill me.
True. So lets just be back before the trains stop running, and shell never know.
Whats going on with you two now? Is everything good?Trash asked, trying to be subtle.
Pazu looked down, and blushed.
Trash gave him a sideways look.
Whats with that face?
Were good. She said she doesnt care about the live streaming. Shell even help me with the free lunch cafe.
Really? I figured that crazy idea would send her packing.
Pazu punched Trash in the arm, though even if he tried in earnest, he wouldnt even leave a bruise.
Ow!Trash feigned injury.
Actually, its kind of a compromise.
Huh?
So, after we do the restaurant I promised
Trash looked at his friend with a deeply concerned look.
Promised? What did you promise her?
That Id take her to the US. So she can try to get work in Hollywood. You know, as a costume designer.
Hollywood? Seriously?
Shes got the talent. Once she gets her degree, and maybe a few jobs here in Japan. You know she can do it.
But Hollywood?
Hey, youre still wearing that jacket around, arent you? She wont admit it to you, but she is really proud of it, and the fact that you like it so much.
So youre just going to follow her to America?
Well yeah I mean
What?
afterwegetmarried
WHAT!?
Well, I kinda asked her
You. Fucking. Normie!
It was a strange feeling. Hearing about his friends happiness somehow gave Trash a burst of optimism. As they took the train to Shibuya, they joked around and chatted, just like they used to do when they were kids taking the train to Akihabara.
He never actually forgot about what they were going there to do, but somehow, he suddenly felt sure things would work out. Just as children believe in the future before the adults around them beat the hope out of them by tearing apart their dreams.
Suddenly, Trash felt that childish belief that things work out. Even if everything fell apart, he could always start over and build it up again.
If he had Pazu and Saki around, maybe even Meg, who was cool and yet scary: if he had people he could count on; people he could have fun with; people who enjoyed life. He would somehow figure something out.
Screw his relatives. They never hid their disdain for his background or his dreams. He didnt want to stay at the factory anymore if it meant he had to be under their judgment.
Life could be an adventure. The kind that he always wished he was on when he was young. Nothing so mundane as studying, getting into a good school, getting a stable job, getting married, having kids, growing old, and dying.
He still wanted to get the special power to fight his enemies. He wanted to be pulled into another world where he would have to make friends, build his skills, and fight the demon lord. He wanted to stand on the center mound and pitch the final inning of the high school tournament while the girls from his school screamed and cried from the bleachers. Why did he have to give up on all those childish fantasies?
Trash wondered when he stopped having dreams. He looked at his friend, watching the city pass by as the train cut through the heart of the city. Pazu never gave up on his dreams. Saki has her own dreams. Had he just been using them? Sticking to them so that he didnt feel the need to find and follow his own path?
He used to have dreams, but then, little by little, he stopped. He had been told, countless times by the people around him to give up on the childish things and get serious about the important ones. The so-called important things that he never had any interest in at all.
Maybe, Trash thought to himself, he just needed to have the superficial stuff stripped away, so that he could start fresh.
He didnt care about the deal anymore. He didnt care about Sakamoto and Hansa. He didnt care about Danny and his shady games.
But going on an adventure with his best friend. That was something worth doing. Crossing the city in the middle of the night. Infiltrating the heart of the enemy. Harajuku, the antithesis of Akihabara. Trendy versus geek. He would face off against the old master of that foul place. By releasing the prisoner held captive there, and by doing so, he could restore the balance and reap a treasure as a reward.
Are you okay? Pazu was looking at Trash with a worried expression.
Sure, fine.
You were just standing there with a dumb grin on your face.
Look whos talking. You havent stopped smiling since last night.
Shut up!
The announcement that the train would be arriving at Harajuku station soon, blared over the trains speakers.
Exiting the train, Trash almost walked toward the stairs to the exit when Pazu grabbed him.
Lets use the other exit. Its faster.
Trash remembered the exit right at the entrance to Takeshita street.
Pazu went the opposite way, and sure enough, there was a staircase down into the train platform. Going down, they exited onto the street, facing the entrance to Takeshita street. Trash found himself back at the same place he had last seen Danny, less than two days earlier.
How long until the phone pings?
Should be at midnight. I sent Sakamoto a message to let me know where it lights up.
Thats more than an hour from now. This place is dead at night. Theres a burger place here where we can wait, though.
Trash remembered the fancy western restaurant he saw the other day, but watched as Pazu passed by without even glancing at the sign.
The burger place Pazu had mentioned was, in fact, a Lotteria. It was an old McDonalds copycat brand that never really took off. Trash recognized the logo and colorful store decorations, but he couldnt remember actually eating in one. The near-ubiquitous nature of McDonalds, coupled with a competitive market for the number two slot, limited his exposure to the domestic hamburger chain. After all, there was no Lotteria in Akihabara.
They just ordered some coffee, which turned out to be a complete waste of money, as it was undrinkable, and sat at the window, waiting for Sakamoto to update them.
Just as Pazu mentioned, there was almost nobody on the shopping street. All the clothing and accessory shops were closed, and even most of the restaurants were closed by now. Just down the road at the center of Shibuya, Trash knew the scene would be lively until the early morning hours when the trains started running again, but Takeshita Street was a quiet place at night. It reminded Trash of how Akihabara used to be before the redevelopment boom brought more late-night restaurants and shops.
Midnight came and went. It was easy to tell the time as the fast food restaurant they were camping in, closed and put them out on the street.
Trash sent messages to Sakamoto, but received nothing back in return. He didnt know what to make of that. Did he go to sleep? Was he just not interested in helping anymore?
It put them into a strange situation. They had come here to find out if Danny was still there. But they had counted on having the tracking ping of the Hansa phone to use as justification for bothering the old man. Without that, they had just wasted hours. They could go ahead with the plan, but now they would be knocking on the door after midnight with no proof that Danny was there.
Or they could just go back. They could still make it in time to take the last train to Akihabara. But that felt wrong to Trash. He had come this far. This was his great adventure. His chance to try and do something interesting. He had met with an American businessman, an ancient shadow master, he had even viewed the Imperial Palace from the top of a luxury hotel. He had done more in the last two days than he had in the previous two years.
Not yet.
Huh?
Im not ready to give up yet.
But
They were already standing in the park in front of Denmark Street.
The store was dark and closed, as was the sitting room that he had been drinking tea in the day before, but he could just make out that in the window of the adjacent room to the sitting room, there was still a light on.
Just wait a minute. Someone is still awake there. Do you think someone is inside that room?
Thats the office. I never really went inside there. Its like the Old Goats study. He would take a pot of tea and spend hours in there.
Trash looked at the building. The store was actually on the third floor of the building, but it rose to the level of the hill behind the shopping street, so from this perspective, it looked like it was at ground level. There was a thin wooden ledge around the bottom of the third floor that extended from the ground at the upper level. The ledge was narrow, but Trash realized that by standing on it, just a few steps off the ground by the sitting room, he should be able to look directly into the study.
What if I stand over there? I bet I can see if anyone is inside the study.
Are you nuts? Thats hanging right over the street. Youll fall and break your neck.
Its only a few steps onto the ledge. Ill just take a quick peek. Then well at least know if anyone is inside.
Stop it. Its not worth it. Lets go back.
Just a second. I promise, Trash said as he started to skirt the building so that he could get behind the sitting room and move onto the ledge.
He was now staring straight into the sitting room, but with the lights out, he couldnt see a thing in the darkness.
Stepping out onto the ledge, Trash instantly regretted this plan. He hadnt realized how high over the street this floor was, or how exposed he would be.
Underneath him, he could see the stairs winding up from the shopping street. He was about 10 meters up with no rails or anywhere solid to grip. It was too dark to judge his position or footing.
The room was only about three or four steps forward, but now that he was out there, Trash was starting to think this was another one of his very bad ideas. He had gotten so wrapped up in the adventure fantasy that had been playing in his head, that he had not taken into account that those stories were written by people who had no idea what reality outside was really like.
Hey. Come back already. Its not worth it. Lets just go ahead and knock on the door. Or come back tomorrow. Youre going to break your neck out there.
Pazu had a point. Pazu was wise. Trash should listen to Pazu. This was stupid.
Trash turned to start shuffling back along the ledge when he felt himself lose his balance.
Just like they say in stories, the world does indeed slow down when something big happens. Suddenly, Trash was aware of a multitude of things. He could see Pazu reaching out to him with an expression of fear. He could feel the shift in his balance with unbelievable clarity. As he started to fall backward, he could tell that if he just had a bit more strength in his legs, he could push down and regain his balance. Directing as much power as he could, he tried to regain control, but he could tell it would not be enough. Not even close to enough.
He could see the stairs below him. He could even guess where he was going to fall. That was a long fall. He had never fallen from so high before in his life, and this would not be a jump where he could break his fall with his legs. He was definitely going to lose control.
From the corner of his eye, he saw something else strange. In the dark window of the sitting room, he could swear he saw the shadow of a person. The room was completely dark, but just like sometimes, when you see shapes in the darkness, he could almost see a human shape that was even darker than the darkness, if that made sense.
As his movement started to spin him towards the stairs and the street below, the shadow moved. It moved so fast, it was like the shadow disappeared. Then Trash heard a cracking noise as the window was thrown open. Then he couldnt see the building anymore as his fall had twisted him away, and now all he could see was Pazu, who seemed to be yelling something.
He felt a jolt as time suddenly sped back up to normal. He felt like his jacket had been caught on something. That was strange, though, as there was nothing for it to catch on. He turned his head to look at his right arm where he could feel something tugging him back, helping him to gain his footing back.
He saw a pitch-black hand grabbing his jacket just below the shoulder. He had enough time to wonder if whoever had grabbed him was wearing gloves when he heard the horrible ripping sound.
This time, time did not slow down. In a single instant, he saw the arm of his jacket rip cleanly off. Then he saw the street flip down in his vision as up and down reversed. Then everything went black.
End Part II:
Chapter Nineteen: Technoblade Never Dies
Part III: ǥꥢ (The Irregular)
New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.
-Lao Tsu
Chapter Nineteen: Technoblade Never Dies
June 26, 2010
There was an odd smell. He couldnt quite place it. Some kind of incense, maybe.
That was the first thought, quickly followed by more as Trashs brain reengaged with the world.
The next was sound. There was music coming from somewhere. As he tried to determine where the sound was coming from, the third sensation arrived.
Pain. A jabbing pain in his head. There was more pain in his arm as well. But the pain in his head was evil. Suddenly, he felt like his head was splitting into two.
Awareness and memories flooded back; Pazu yelling something, then reaching out toward him, A hand reaching out and grabbing his arm. Lying in a bed and throwing up into a trash bin, A very bad smell.
Trash opened his eyes. He was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. It was daytime; there was some light peeking through closed curtains. The bits of light evading the curtains activated the pain in his head again.
His head hurt so much. What happened? Oh, right. He fell. He fell off the side of a building like a fool. What was he thinking?
Pazu must be so pissed. He had told Trash not to go out on that ledge. Just like Pazu had predicted, he fell off.
Did he break his neck? Was this the hospital?
Trash tried to move. His head twisted. This brought back the pain again. The pain never really subsided; its just with every movement, it got worse.
His arm hurt a lot, too. It was easy to forget with the pain in his head, but it really hurt a lot. That was a good sign, though, right? It meant his neck wasnt broken. He read that in a comic book once.
Thirsty. He was so thirsty. His throat was so dry, and his tongue was big, and the inside of his mouth tasted nasty. Trash recalled throwing up again, and his stomach rolled, but the nausea was gone.
Wont the pain stop? Where was he? It didnt look like a hospital room. Was there some water? His throat was so dry.
He groaned as he tried to look around.
There was a sudden movement in the room. He heard it. It came from the other side, away from the window. It sounded like someone standing up. There was someone in the room. Was it Pazu?
Despite the pain, he kept his eyes open and tried to look over at the noise.
Oh shit!
It was that guy. The African. He was standing at the foot of the bed now. Shit!
What happened? He couldnt remember things properly. His head hurt. He fell. He must have been knocked out. Maybe worse. Some flashes; he definitely threw up. Was it here? In this bed? He drank something. He was so thirsty now. Why was the African here? What was his name?
Wait, where was he? Was he at the record store? What was the name It was a strange name. His head was foggy, except for the pain.
Here, drink.
The man Agbor yeah, that was his name. It was a strange name, but easy to remember. Agbor was holding a tray with a small plastic cup. Water! Oh, Thank God. Water.
The tray was placed over his legs. Then suddenly, he was sitting up. The tray was one of those breakfast-in-bed things, with legs to hold it over your lap while you ate.
It was hard to concentrate. His head was fuzzy, and the only thing that cut through the haze was the pain, and a few random thoughts.
The plastic cup was at his lips. Water!
Trash greedily swallowed the trickle of water that poured from the cup.
More! His throat was so dry.
Easy, drink slowly. There is plenty.
He took another sip. Then swallowed. Slowly, he drank half the cup, one painful sip at a time.
Then the cup pulled away. Trash wanted to protest, but then he looked at the large man who was nursing him.
Why was he here? This didnt look like a hospital. It was more like an old motel room. A simple small room with a bed and a desk.
Swallow this.
The man held a tiny plastic cup. Inside was a large white pill.
What was this? Some kind of a drug? Why? Where was he? Where was Pazu?? What happened?
He was starting to feel more lucid, but nothing was making sense.
Agbor was pushing the small cup to his lips, but Trash resisted. He pursed his lips.
Its okay. Its a painkiller.
That word crossed his mind like a fireworks explosion.
Painkiller! Thats what he needed.
He opened his lips without thinking about it, and the pill entered his mouth. Then there was more water.
He swallowed the pill. How long would it take? It still hurt so much.
Suddenly he was lying down again, looking at the ceiling.
Was that really a painkiller? Should he have taken it? Hopefully, it works quickly.
It was evening when Trash awoke again. This time, he was far more lucid, and Pazu was there. At first, Trash wondered if the episode with the African man was some strange dream.
Pazu confirmed what happened as Trash sat up in the bed. He felt better, but he still had a killer headache, and his shoulder burned. His right arm was in a sling.
You spun off the ledge like a pinwheel. I was sure you were a dead man. How are you so lucky?
Lucky? I dont feel lucky.
Yeah. Well, considering what an idiot you were for trying that stunt, you are lucky you arent dead.
Yeah But What happened?
Oh man, it was crazy. You started to fall, and then Agbor saw you and tried to grab you through the window. Then your jacket ripped, and you shot off the ledge and fell like two stories. Hit your head and dislocated your shoulder. You were bouncing off the sides of the buildings, so I guess you didnt hit too hard. Otherwise, you would have totally broken your neck.
Trash stared forward as he contemplated that. He just avoided death caused by his own stupidity.
Well, after Saki sees what you did to her jacket, you might still be dead. And it wont be so clean.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Oh, shit. The jacket. It was ruined. Trash remembered clearly the sound and sensation of the arm ripping off. It seemed unreal. His treasure was gone.
It was amazing. Agbor was down to your side in seconds. Before I could even react. Your arm was all messed up, but he just pulled your arm around, and POP! It was just fixed! I bet it still hurts, though.
Trash rubbed his shoulder. It certainly didnt feel that great. He could still move his arm and hand, so the sling was just to hold everything in place.
The painkillers were working well, so other than the soreness in his arm and, the headache, and the large bump on his head, it appeared that he had indeed gotten off easy.
I was freaking out, But Agbor just lifted you up, checked you out, and then carried you back up here, like that last big quake, where all the figures I put on the shelves fell off. He just repositioned your limbs and put you back on the shelf.
Trash really did not appreciate the description, but he could hardly complain. After all, he had been trying to peek into the house when he fell Why was he even trying to do something like that in the first place?
Oh shit, Danny!
Was Danny even here?
No, well, he was, but he was gone hours before we got here. Hes probably left the country by now.
Trash closed his eyes as the pain in his head throbbed.
The whole thing had been a waste. The trip to Harajuku, the accident, none of it mattered. He almost killed himself for nothing.
He met with Hibiki in the afternoon. Seems there were some serious meetings, but I have no idea what thats about. Anyway, he was here, but then Agbor took him back to the hotel. Im sure he got another flight out today, so hes long gone.
Let me see my phone.
Pazu got a strange look and got up to look through Trashs things.
Apparently, Trash had indeed vomited several times after the light concussion. He was now in Hibikis guest room on the second floor, wearing some old pajamas. Pazu had gone back to Akihabara and brought back a change of clothes from his apartment. Luckily all his clean clothes were there in the laundry bag.
His old clothes were in a plastic bag on the floor. In a separate bag, were the remains of Trashs precious jacket, along with his wallet and other things from his pockets.
Pazu handed Trash his phone.
Shit!
The screen was cracked. The clear protector was still on, but it must have hit something hard at an angle, because there were two cracks underneath the plastic film. One ran through the center of the screen.
The jacket, his phone, the losses continued to pile up. Trash could feel tears threatening to break free from his eyes. He had no idea how to feel anymore. Relieved, angry, lucky, cursed? It was so confusing, and his head still really hurt.
Putting that aside, he turned on the phone to see if he had any messages.
In fact, he had many.
He skipped all the ones that were related to hunts he was currently on, and all the mail magazines and spam. He skimmed, checking for anything from Danny.
Nothing. No DMs or emails from him in the last day.
Then he looked for some word from Sakamoto. Maybe an explanation for his disappearance last night would be nice.
Again, nothing. No response to the many messages he had sent from the Lotteria.
There was one text message that caught his attention.
[Mr. Landis has returned. Thank you for your assistance. -Harold.]
That was the manager of the Victoria Hotel. So Danny did make it back to the hotel at least.
There was a second message from the same number. It had been received just an hour earlier.
[Mr. Landiss flight has departed safely. Thank you for your cooperation. Could I trouble you to visit the hotel again? I would like to thank you for your assistance. -Harold]
That was strange. He had done nothing in the end. The man must think that Trash had found Danny and told him to go back to the hotel. Well, anyway, it didnt matter.
He checked Twitter again. He wanted to see if Danny had posted anything about leaving Tokyo, or anything about what was going on.
He had no DMs so he looked on Dannys timeline.
[Youre Blocked]
WTF?
He checked again. He was definitely blocked. Trash logged out of his account, then opened up the webpage and checked Dannys account.
The account was there, although nothing had been posted publicly for several days.
Danny blocked me.
What was going on?
Trash seethed. All this was for nothing? He had done this just to make sure Danny was okay, and now he was getting ghosted? For what? That didnt make any sense. Why would Danny be angry with him?
Are you ok? Do you need another painkiller?
Trash looked at his friend and he really felt the tears were about to burst out.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Then his stomach grumbled.
Pazu stared at him in shock, then they both burst into laughter.
Trash stopped quickly as the pain shot back through his body as he laughed, but the tension in his body had been diffused.
Im starving.
Yeah, you havent eaten since the coffee last night. Ill ask Agbor if he has anything to nibble on.
While Pazu ran upstairs, Trash got out of the bed.
He felt a bit dizzy, and his shoulder still burned, but he was surprised that he had come through that fall in such good shape.
Apparently, The Old Goat had made a call and a doctor just showed up and checked him out. The doctor said he had a light concussion, but it wasnt so bad, so there was no need to go to the hospital unless the symptoms got worse. His arm should be fine in a week or so, but he should avoid straining it for a while, or it might pop out again.
Trash looked at the bag with the jacket. He had no idea what to say to Saki about that. Pazu wasnt kidding. She would likely kill him for allowing her work to be destroyed like that. Maybe she could fix it, but did he dare ask?
He sat back down on the bed. How did he end up here? He was sleeping in a strangers house. That scary bodyguard had nursed him through the night? How did that happen?
He distinctly remembered the large man holding him up and letting him drink from a cup of water in his hands.
Trash shivered. Things had not gone at all the way he had thought they would. In fact, he struggled to think of a single decision he had made in the last few days that had not blown up spectacularly in his face.
Pazu came back into the room with a plate of sandwiches and a couple of bottles of coke.
There were also some apples neatly sliced on the plate. Trash now had an image of that large man, wearing an apron, expertly peeling and slicing the apples into perfect wedges. He felt like his perception of normal was starting to get warped.
The Coke was ice cold, and Trash was surprised that the bottles were not the plastic ones he was expecting, but the old-style glass bottles. He couldnt remember the last time he had seen glass soda bottles. After admiring it for a moment, he carefully held the bottle up against his sore shoulder and felt the cold glass soothe the burning ache in his arm.
These old bottles are the best, right? I wish they still sold them like this, you know?
It was heavier, and more wasteful, Trash knew, but holding the still freezing bottle in his hand, he put the bottle to his lips and took a swig.
It definitely tasted better. It was colder. It was better. Why did people always need to improve things by making them worse?
Yeah. This is nice. Where do you even get these?Trash put the bottle down so he could pick up a sandwich.
No idea. I think he actually imports them from overseas. Thats gotta be crazy expensive, right? Glass bottles and all?
Must be nice to be rich
YeahPazu agreed.
They quickly finished off the food. Trash realized how hungry he had been.
Hey, sorry, but I gotta go. Saki is kinda pissed I disappeared.
Pazu looked at Trash guiltily.
Ill be back tomorrow.
Huh? Youre leaving me here? Alone? Wait, Ill go with you.
You should stay here at least for another night. The Doctor said you need to rest until that bump goes down.
But Trash didnt have a reason, but it seemed so wrong to stay in this strangers house. Especially after he was hurt while sneaking around the windows.
Dont worry. Its Okay. I talked to the Old Goat, and hes totally fine. Hes not angry or anything.
It seemed rude to be still calling Hibiki the Old Goat, but Trash couldnt think of what he should call him. Mr. Horikoshi? Sir Horikoshi?
The idea of spending the night here with the old man and his manservant/maid/nurse was, to put it bluntly, terrifying.
You cant leave me here alone
Sorry, but Saki will do horrible things if I dont go back tonight. Ill be back first thing in the morning. If youre feeling better, well go back then, okay?
Pazu
Trash tried to make sad puppy eyes. This just got a laugh from his friend.
Yeah, youre fine if you can make a face like that. Look, I spoke with the Old Goat while you were sleeping. He was very curious about you to be honest.
Trash looked at Pazu with concern on his face.
Its not a bad thing. You have seen this place, right? If he is interested in you, it means something. A lot of people do a lot of things just to get noticed by him. I think you should talk to him.
Trash shook his head violently, then grasped his forehead with both hands as a wave of pain ricocheted inside his skull.
Not doing that againHe moaned weakly.
Cramming the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, Pazu stood up, took the empty plate and his bottle, and walked over to the door.
Hey, Im glad youre okay, really glad, but you need to stop doing crazy stuff like this. Not just the ledge, but the whole shady deal stuff. You were in over your head before you started, and youre lucky it turned out this well.
Trash looked away. He wanted to defend himself, but he knew Pazu was right. He had gone about things in the wrong way from the start. Things were pretty bad now, but they could have gone much worse. They still might get worse because of his recklessness and poor decisions.
But what else could he have done?
Talk to the Old Goat. Presidents and Prime Ministers ask him for advice. He probably knows a thing or two. Even if he is a weirdo.
It was hard to dispute that. Still, all he could do was stare into the corner of the room.
But regardless. You can talk to him, or not. Whatever happens, you know I have your back, right?
Trash looked back at his friend, his best and only true friend.
He wanted to say something, but he couldnt think of any words, so he just nodded.
Seeya tomorrow!
Trash sat alone in the room for a while. He could hear a few sounds from the street below, but it was so quiet compared to his home next to the train tracks.
Outside was Buya, the antithesis of Akiba. It didnt feel antagonistic to him, though. The air was clean and felt alive. Different from his home, but vibrant and warm in its own way.
After a while, there was a knock on the door, then Agbor stepped in.
Mister Hibiki is taking his evening snack and wanted to know if you feel up to joining him.
Trash almost declined out of habit, but he remembered what Pazu said.
He also thought that Mister Hibiki sounded about right for the Old Goat. Maybe he should call him that, at least with Pazu.
If its not a bother. Yes, I would like to thank him, and you, properly, and apologize.
Very well, shall we go upstairs?
Chapter Twenty: Caught Between Three Fires
Chapter Twenty: Caught Between Three Fires
Nuts?
Trash blinked. Then he slowly nodded. Again, the reality of his life path was deviating greatly from his expectations.
Agbor sprinkled a spoonful of crushed walnuts onto the top of the sundae, then added a cherry on top. He skipped the nuts on the other one, and just added the cherry.
Finally, he drizzled some chocolate sauce over top of both desserts, before placing them on the small table between the two seated men.
Hibiki grabbed a spoon and, with no ceremony at all, attacked the bowl, capturing the cherry and most of the whipped creme in one giant spoonful.
Slowly chewing the sugar-soaked piece of fruit, he pulled out the stem from between his teeth and dropped it beside the bowl.
You know, I used to be the type of person to save the cherry until the end. Id save it for the last bite. I dont know when I changed, but along the way, I switched to eating it first. Perhaps because I realized that you never know when the end will come, I want to enjoy my favorite things, even one more time if possible. What about you? Do you eat the cherry first, or save it till the end?
Trash regarded the sundae for a moment. Then picked up the spoon and carefully scraped the side of the dessert, creating a bite that was a mix of ice cream, whipped cream, nuts, and syrup.
Then, after examining the spoonful, he took a big bite.
Ha! Interesting!
Not really. Its just. Ive never had one of these before. They are on the menus at the family restaurants, but I never really thought to order one.
So what do you think?
Trash contemplated the bite.
Its nice. Cold and sweet. The nuts I really like it with the nuts.
Hibiki looked a bit disappointed, as though he had expected Trash to rave about it. To be honest, it was a bit too sweet for Trashs taste. It would be better with some coffee, he thought.
After that, they ate in silence. Hibiki was singularly focused on the ice cream, while Trash sat in a daze, taking in the surroundings.
They were sitting in the Old Goats study. The one that Pazu said he never went into. He realized the ledge that he had fallen off of was just outside the window behind the desk.
The desk itself was an old Western-style desk. Big and made of heavy-looking wood. In fact, most of the furniture was similar. It looked how Trash imagined the office of a professor at Tokyo Universitys office might look. Shelves, filled with old books, and strange objects. Old, uncomfortable-looking furniture that seemed too large to be practical in Japan. There were even more pictures here, but not as many. Some were large, and some were small. All are framed nicely and placed on a shelf or hung from a wall.
Trash eventually noticed that, unlike the pictures outside, Hibiki was in none of these photographs. Instead, they featured mostly individuals, or small groups of people. Some looked like family photographs.
Hibiki leaned back in his chair, placing the empty bowl on the table. Trash, noticing this, quickly finished off the last half of his dessert.
The old man gave out a long sigh.
You know, in the old days, this is when I would light up a cigarette. I was never a big smoker, so it wasnt that hard to give up when the doctors advised me, but once in a while Right after a satisfying sweet snack. Thats when I get the old craving. Oh well, Are you a smoker by any chance?
He asked with a cautious hope in his voice. Trash wondered if he did have a cigarette, would the old man ask for one.
Im sorry, I dont smoke. Never did.
Ah, pity. But good for you. A filthy habit, to be sure. Still
They sat in silence for a few more seconds, and Trash was thinking about how to excuse himself when Hibiki leaned forward. His eyes were clear and sharp. His demeanor had changed from an old grandfather, sitting on the patio, staring up at the trees, to one of a businessman in the middle of a tough contract negotiation.
Trash, I have to ask your forgiveness.
Trash was confused, why was the Old Goat apologizing. He was the one who should be apologizing for sneaking around his house after all.
After you stopped by the other day, well, I asked a few friends to look into you and your background. Then, when you appeared so suddenly, yesterday Well, Im embarrassed to say that I have invaded your privacy somewhat.
Trash was concerned, but he was sure there wasnt anything in his background that would be interesting to a man like this. Still it was irksome that someone had been looking at information about him. It reminded him of those nosy, annoying school officials.
I also spoke to young master Hiroyuki. He spoke very highly of you. He seems to care a great deal about you, as though you were like family to him. That is high praise indeed.
This made Trash grin. Pazu hated when people spoke about him as though he was a scion of a wealthy family. While he did receive support from his parents, Trash knew better than anyone else how much his friend had worked to get by through his own efforts.
Do you mind if I ask you a few things? I would be more than happy to reciprocate, though what an old goat in Harajuku might say, might be of no interest to you.
Trash was put off his balance when Hibiki used that nickname for himself. He realized that Pazu might have picked it up from the subject himself, as it was rather out of character for Pazu to use names like that in the first place. Not knowing what else to do, Trash just nodded his agreement.
Wonderful! Now, you dont have to answer anything you dont want to; and I apologize if I ask anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. Im afraid, that when you get to a certain age, you stop keeping up with normal social conventions. The games people play just lose their meaning, if you can understand.
Again, Trash nodded. If anything, he could relate to that more than people mindlessly conforming to the social norms.
Trash, could you tell me what it is you do? Over there in Akihabara, what is your purpose there?
This seemed like a fair question, but Trash found it surprisingly difficult to articulate a response. He decided just to simplify it as much as possible.
I find things. I look around for hard to find items or rare things and then buy them for people who dont have the time or connections to know where to look.
What kind of things?
A lot of stuff. I started by hunting for kusoge though.
Kusoge? What is that?
Trash chuckled. Not many people knew the term.
Shitty-games. Rare video games.
Why call them shitty games? It seems an odd way to refer to rare items.
Well, they are not shitty because they are rare. They are rare because they are terrible. There are times when publishers put out games because they have some popular license, or because they want to test some new mechanic or accessory. Then, when it proves unpopular, often because the game is so poorly made, or insufficiently tested, that its largely unplayable, then they cut the production, or even pull back the initial rollout. These games are quickly forgotten, but over time, they can become incredibly hard to find.
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But if they are so bad, why would anyone even try to find them at all? Arent they unplayable?
Yeah, for most people. But there are communities. People who just like collecting things. Or people who actually like trying out absurd experiences. I have one customer who just likes posting screenshots from the endings of games that no one else seems to have finished. Some people are fanatics.
Trash was getting into this. He had met few people outside the community who seemed to understand what it was all about, let alone find it interesting.
Is it lucrative? Do people pay for such things, even if they are rare?
Yes! Well, I mean, its not a huge amount, but some items can go for quite a bit. The thing is, when people know something is going to be popular, they make a lot. Other times, there is a craftsman, or a programmer, or just just a person who wants something to exist, even if they know it wont be popular. These two attitudes drive rarity. There are those old Ultraman soft vinyl toys from the 60s. Cheap plastic figures that they have been selling for cheap to kids ever since. The main heroes and villains; they make hundreds of thousands of them. Sooner or later, they all end up in the trash or in a used toy bin in the back of a shop. I can buy vintage ones for almost nothing because there are so many. But there are a few that are incredibly rare and insanely expensive. Those are never the popular ones. They are all the ugliest, most poorly sculpted, least popular designs. The ones that sat unsold until the stores shipped most of them back to the manufacturer, and the ones that did sell were thrown away without a thought.
Hibiki was sitting up in his seat, listening intently and nodding.
Now, some of those ugly dolls can sell for 500 thousand to a million yen! There was an old video game in America that was based on a popular movie. It was rushed through production so they could sell it in time for Christmas, but it turned out so bad that it was called the worst video game ever made. The company that made it ended up with so many unsold and returned cartridges, that there is a story that in the middle of the night, they dumped nearly the entire stock in a pit in the middle of the dessert, and wrote them all off for taxes. Now, that game is one of the rarest used video games in the world, and they can sell for thousands of dollars when they turn up on the auction sites.
Trash actually wasnt sure about the accuracy of those stories, but he was so excited to talk about kusoge, that he was rolling along. Hibiki, for his part, was engaged and encouraged him with nods and positive responses.
Thats where a lot of this started. There are global web communities that share these games and leads, and collectors who are always looking for the rarest games and items. Most want original Japanese games, but cant speak the language to find them.
Is that why you speak English, then? To communicate with these customers?
Trash stopped for a second, like he was trying to decide what his response to that question should be.
Then he simply nodded.
Trash, as I said before, you are free to answer or not. Its up to you. I am just a curious old goat. But I wonder if it also had something to do with your family? With your mother?
Trashs eyes widened. Of course, he would know something about that. This man must have connections with the government. There were records. After all, the schools knew, then the PTAs found out, and of course all the other kids eventually knew as well. It was hardly a big secret. But it was a source of a lot of pain for him.
What do you know about my mother? About my family?
Well, I suppose it is only fair to tell you. I just want you to know, I dont judge you, or your father, or your mother. I, more than most, understand how complicated families can be.
As he spoke, the old man glanced at a small group of photographs on the desk. Trash wondered who was in those photos. Probably Hibikis relatives.
Trash, I know you come from a good family. Good, in the sense that your grandfather ran several small businesses. He provided for his children well, sent them to school, and ensured they were taken care of. I know your father was the youngest of three children. He was a rebel of sorts, but he was spoiled a bit, as was common in those days. Instead of getting a job after college, he worked at a club in Shinjuku. Im assuming thats where he met your mother? Namfon Thipakornsawon?
Trash nodded. Of course, this would not be that hard to find out, even though her name had been stricken from the family registry. That he could pronounce the name at all was the most surprising part.
I know that your mother left when you were five. That you and your father lived with your grandfather after that until you were 15, when your father passed away. You have been living in your grandfathers old factory since then. Your grandfather passed away last year, I believe. Im sorry to hear that.
Trash gritted his teeth. The information was accurate, of course. Of course, it only told the parts that were public records. He nodded.
Thats all true. He said stiffly.
Oh, is there more?
Trash let the air that had been building in his chest release. Why not? What did he have to hide? If he couldnt tell his closest friends, maybe he would feel better telling a total stranger.
My father He had an affair. When I was a kid, thats why my mother left. It messed him up. After she left, he was broken; he just drank until he couldnt take it anymore. I always assumed she went back home to Thailand. I didnt know anything about her. They got rid of every trace. Every clue. I cant even remember what she looked like, or what her voice sounded like. But I thought someday I might go looking for her. Ask her why she didnt take me with her? Why she left me with them?
So you studied English?
Well, there was no way they would let me learn Thai. That was when I was a kid. I didnt really know anything anyway. I kind of saw everything outside of Japan as the same big thing. I thought that if I could speak English, I could travel the world.
Hibiki chuckled.
Trash looked up, but realized the man was not mocking him.
You were right about that point, of course. I studied English for much the same reason.
It took Trash a moment to switch his thinking to translate what Hibiki had just said. Thankfully, they quickly switched back to Japanese.
Is that why you dont use your given names? Are you angry with your family?
Trash laughed now. A full laugh, free of anger and guilt. This was easier to talk about than he would have ever expected.
Maybe a little, but not really. I have a horrible name. I used to get picked on a lot because it was easy, especially for kids. So I always hated my name, for as long as I can remember.
Shinnosuke Ooba? Whats wrong with that?
Nothing, maybe. But if you think like a child. A cruel child, who is looking for things to ridicule, well
Trash was surprised that he could laugh about it now. It used to feel like a curse, but now, he could see it as a childish fear.
My mother named me. She liked that cartoon. The one with the naughty kid. It was her favorite thing, apparently. Of course, no one understood, so they actually used different Chinese characters on my birth certificate.
Still, being a stupid kid, I told the other children about it, after that, they taunted me mercilessly until I graduated from middle school. That and my last name. You know how Ooba sounds kind of like auntie?. It wasnt so bad until they found out that my mother wasnt Japanese and that she had left me. Then, it all became nothing but ammunition for the bullies to harass me.
Trash looked up. Hibiki was just looking at him with a strange expression. It wasnt amusement, or pity. He wasnt sure what it meant.
Anyway, I was a kid. They were kids. Its not like I was really hurt or anything. At some point, they got bored of the other names and just started calling me Trash. To me, that was better than the other names, so I just took it in. Owned it, I guess. Trash is who I am now. It has been for years.
Hibiki chuckled.
It is a good name, I think. Better than Old Goat, at least.
Trashs eyebrows went up. Hibiki must have noticed the reaction.
It was your friend who gave me that nickname, you know? Many years ago I think he was around five at the time. He just blurted it out. Who knows where he learned the word, but his parents were so angry. I couldnt stop laughing. Anyway, I kind of adopted it after that. Now, thats what most of the locals call me. Just like you, I made it my own.
Hibiki sat with a satisfied grin.
You know, I once asked Hiroyuki if he wanted to join me here. I didnt realize it at first, but since then, I have come to realize that turning me down was the best thing he could have done. He was already on a different path. One that will bring him happiness. I doubt he will ever regret rejecting my offer, no matter what happens.
Trash had heard this, but now he was starting to see it in a different context. Did Pazu simply turn down a job at a record store? Or was it more?
When I spoke to him yesterday, he did mention something else. Something I have been thinking about since. I dont suppose he mentioned anything to you.
Shaking his head, Trash was about to deny hearing anything, when he connected some dots.
He asked me to talk to you.
Hibiki chuckled again, then nodded. He asked me if I might consider teaching you some things. Bringing you into my world, so to speak.
This was something Trash had no way to even comprehend. He didnt even understand what this old man was anyway.
I told him that would be impossible.
Just like that. Trash felt like he was getting pushed around. What was this Old Goat playing at?
I think you understand, dont you? I cannot be your teacher, because I am already your rival.
This confused Trash. How could they be rivals? That made no sense at all. This man was a monster. He could probably shift the country with his power and influence. At least, that is the impression Trash had.
Oh, I didnt mean we were equals, just rivals. After all, are you not a Lord of Akihabara? You are one who understands the flow of information for those things that are under your control. Those things that are loved and pursued relentlessly in that place. Well, I am much the same. This is my domain.
Hibiki stood up and looked out the window.
You know that the Yamanote loop line takes exactly one hour to circle central Tokyo. Do you know which stop is exactly halfway around the loop from Akihabara?
Trash could guess. He never rode the line like that, but he could estimate it by the amount of time it took him to get here. He took a shortcut by using the Chuo line to cut through the center of Tokyo, and then transferring at Yoyogi, but if he just rode the loop, the opposite side from Akihabara was probably Shibuya.
Akihabara and Shibuya. Two Tokyo shrines to different sub-culture deities. Trendy versus Geek. Fashion versus Technology. We are on opposite sides of this formation. So Im afraid I cant be your teacher.
Trash understood this type of thinking and fully agreed. He had already disavowed the normal ways of living in the country. He could never embrace the mirror opposite of the core of his existence. That said, it was too bad there was no way to learn from this man. He was sure that even sitting where he was now was an unheard-of opportunity.
Then again, we are rivals because we must be; because of what kind of people we are, and the communities that we have chosen. We live on the opposite sides of this amazing city, but even if we are rivals, doesnt that also make us comrades?
Chapter Twenty One: I鈥檓 Not a Bad Slime.
Chapter Twenty One: Im Not a Bad Slime.
Trash awoke to the sound of crows.
He slowly opened his eyes and realized he was in an unfamiliar bed. In an unfamiliar place. His head hurt. A lot.
It only took a moment to reorient himself this time. He sat up slowly and blinked while taking in his surroundings.
He was in Denmark Street. Not the record store, but the house below the store. Hibikis house.
Trash looked around; beside the bed, on a small nightstand, was a glass, a bottle of water, and an unopened box of aspirin.
He greedily poured a glass of water and popped out a couple of pills from the sealed packet. These were not the same wonderful pills he had been given yesterday, but he assumed these were probably a better idea. His head hurt, but not nearly as much as the day before. His arm was feeling just a bit sore, though he could move it freely now. Stretching quickly, however, brought back a sharp pain in his shoulder.
He could remember most of the day before. His conversation with Hibiki, the Old Goat, was still vivid in his mind. He wondered why he had talked so much. He thought that he had been acting strange lately. As though being off-balance was breaking him out of the patterns he had worn himself into over the years, causing him to stumble into untested places.
He spotted a familiar-looking paper shopping bag with a popular cartoon character on it. He had received that bag at one of the comic market events. Pazu must have brought that bag from his apartment with clean clothes for him to change into. Checking inside the bag, he found a simple change of clothes, which he quickly switched into from the borrowed pajamas he had been wearing. Then he folded those and put them on the bed.
At the bottom of the bag were the remains of his treasured MS-09 Dom Jacket. Trash felt his heart ache as he pulled it out to see how bad the damage was.
His hopes were quickly dashed, as he could tell it was worse than he had imagined. The arm had not simply ripped at the seams, but the fabrics of both the jacket and the inner lining had both torn. It would not be simple to repair.
He was sure that Saki could do it, but he didnt think he had the nerve to show it to her in this state. She had given the jacket to him shortly after he had introduced her to Pazu. Back when she was very sweet and friendly to him. She hadnt started getting cold to him until after she and Pazu had been dating for a while.
He wondered if she was like that because she was warning him off. He couldnt think of anything specific that he had done to change her attitude toward him. Trash recalled what Meg had mentioned, that everyone knew he had a crush on Saki. Maybe she was just making it clear she would never get involved in some weird love triangle between the two best friends.
If that was true, maybe it had worked. Trash had to admit that he had never felt any strong jealousy towards Pazu once she started berating him whenever she saw him.
No. For now, he didnt think he would take this back to Saki. Maybe later.
Beside the shopping bag was a small paper-wrapped bundle. This turned out to be his other clothes. They had been cleaned, it seemed, then neatly folded and wrapped in paper. He put the bundle into the shopping bag with the jacket, and then walked out the door.
He found Hibiki upstairs in the sitting room.
Ah! Perfect timing. Breakfast?
Trash had intended to leave as quickly as possible, but the smell of cooking meat was irresistible. He weakly nodded guiltily, then sat down at the table opposite to the man.
Hibiki had already been eating, but almost immediately, Agbor emerged, carrying another plate, loaded up with food, along with a cup of coffee.
As far as Trash was concerned, this giant angel could do no wrong in the world. Not only had he likely saved Trash from death, but the food could not have been more welcome. He was starving, and it looked and smelled delicious.
On the plate was an unusual mix of foods, although they all looked amazing. There were two fried eggs, some bacon and sausages, sauted mushrooms, and roasted tomatoes. There were also what appeared to be canned beans. Trash wasnt sure what they were there for, but he was so hungry right now he would have eaten anything.
A moment later, Agbor was back again, placing a small plate with toast, as well as a cup with butter and a jar of an orange jam, beside his plate. Trash was so emotional he was ready to propose to the big man.
I dont eat like this every day, mind you. Eating a full English more than once a week wouldnt be good, even if I had your metabolism. Still, it wouldnt be a bad way to go.
Hibiki had switched back to English. He envied people like Hibiki and Meg, who could switch back and forth between languages effortlessly. Maybe with practice, he could do it too someday
Hibiki seemed to sense Trashs trepidation.
I think, when eating English food, it always tastes more authentic if you speak English while eating. Its just an old habit of mine. I hope you dont mind.
Trash shook his head. He would have answered in English if his mouth wasnt full of eggs and sausage at that precise moment.
The food was delicious. Even the beans, which he mopped up with some toast, following Hibikis lead. He hadnt eaten so much since the double steak lunch with Danny. That had only been a few days earlier, but it felt like months, or even longer.
After they had finished eating, Hibiki leaned forward, locking his gaze on Trashs face. Trash, for his part, couldnt help but avert his eyes.
So, Trash, that was an interesting talk we had last night. Sorry, we had to cut it short, but it was a bit late for this old man. Perhaps we could continue this morning? Im about to go out for my Sunday walk.
Trying to mask his disappointment, Trash smiled weakly and nodded, rather unenthusiastically.
Besides, Young Master Hiroyuki was planning to stop by around lunchtime today to pick you up.
That was right. Pazu mentioned that he would come back today.
This is my Sunday tradition. A Full English, followed by a nice leisurely walk to work off all those calories. We could continue our talk as we walk. Is that agreeable?
Resigned to his fate, Trash nodded. The walk right now did seem like a good idea.
Trash had envisioned some quiet walk through the park. Hibiki, on the other hand, had a different idea of a leisurely walk.
Trash had heard stories of Harajuku on Sunday. It was well documented on TV shows and news programs. He could remember the images of crowds of teenagers shopping and gathering.
He was not at all prepared for the reality.
Hibiki had changed from his usual simple Western clothing to a traditional kimono. It made him look like a character from an old Showa-era movie. He also walked with a cane, although Trash hadnt noticed him having any difficulty walking. It did give him a strong presence, however. His old-fashioned hairstyle and mustache, coupled with the traditional clothing, gave off a strong impression of a somebody, an important person walking down the street.
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Perhaps due to that, They had no difficulty at all walking along Takeshita Street, despite it being packed with people. Their path always seemed to open in front of the old man as he slowly walked along.
It wasnt even noon yet, but the street was already very crowded. There were tourists and shoppers galore, couples out on dates, and young girls everywhere. While the narrow street lacked the speakers and bright LED lights of Akihabara, it made up for it with gaudy signs and energetic salespeople, shouting out offers and promises. There were large African barkers, standing in front of some cheap jewelry shops. All of them wore black clothing and baseball caps, and were decked out in gold necklaces and rings. None of them were nearly as big and intimidating as Agbor, however.
There were girls with long blond hair, dark tanned skin, and colored contacts, attracting customers to lingerie boutiques or nail salons. Those were the types of girls who wouldnt be caught dead in Akihabara.
And there were gangs of girls in high school uniforms at the crepe stands that seemed to be positioned every 20 meters.
Between the shops selling idol posters, t-shirts with strange designs on them, or small accessories, Trash was overwhelmed. He felt like Alice, fallen into Wonderland, and the strange old man walking beside him was a white rabbit.
Hibiki, on the other hand, could not have been more at ease. He walked slowly, looking at the shops carefully. Trash noticed that among the shop owners and regular workers, Many of them recognized the old man immediately. Many would stand up straight while giving him a subtle bow before going on with their work. A few even made a special effort to come out the street to formally greet the old man.
Usually, Hibiki would just smile, but sometimes he would make a comment about some new product he noticed in the front of a store, or inquire about the health of an employee who was absent.
As they walked. he would occasionally mention to Trash the history of a shop they were passing. He pointed out a crepe store that was larger than the typical stand or food truck.
This was the first shop to sell crepes in Harajuku. That was back in the 70s, not long after I opened up Denmark Street.
This was the original location of Denmark Street. He said, pointing to a small shop on the second floor of a building just off the main road.
It was one of the first shops in Tokyo that specialized in modern Western records.
Trash looked up. It appeared that the tiny shop now sold colored wigs of every length and hue.
Do you know where the name Denmark Street comes from? Hibiki asked.
Trash shook his head.
Denmark? The country? He guessed.
Ha! No. But I understand young people no longer understand the reference. No. Denmark Street is a place in London. While the Americans will always claim they invented Rock and Roll, to me, Denmark Street is where the revolution truly began.
I went there as a young man, not much older than yourself. To find my fortune, you could say. Once, Denmark Street was also known as Little Tokyo, and I worked there for a while in a small import-export shop. Thats where I learned my English, my appreciation for British customs, and, of course, my obsession with Western music.
Denmark Street was also known as Londons Tin Pan Alley, the home of all the major music publishers. You could see all the big-name musicians there, and the cafes were full of both established names and up-and-comers. I used to peek in the windows of #9 La Gioconda hoping to see a glimpse of the Beatles or Bowie, while the cafes down the street were full of future stars, sipping espresso while waiting nervously for their appointment with a big-name record company.
Trash chuckled at that, drawing a curious look from Hibiki.
Its just that Well, what you said sounds a lot like Jimbocho.
Ahh. The bookstore district?
Just across the tracks of the Chuo line from Akihabara, Trash would occasionally meet clients there as well.
Its where all the big magazine publishers are. The family restaurants are always full of comic book artists, meeting with editors, or cramming to finish their books before taking them into the offices. What you said just reminded me of that.
I see, Hibiki said thoughtfully. Yes, I suppose it was like that. It was an exhilarating place and time. Thats why, when I came back to Tokyo, I opened up a shop here, and I named it after that place.
They kept walking and soon passed a large store with a flashy painted sign.
Have you ever heard about the Bamboo-Tribe?
Trash shrugged. He wasnt sure if he had ever even heard the name before.
Bah! I would expect at least our rivals to know where their own culture began. It was here! If it werent for these things, your Akihabara wouldnt have any identity beyond comic books and wireless shops!
Trash was taken aback. Hibiki appeared to be angry. He waved his hands at the shop in front of them. The sign read Takenoko, and from the entrance, it looked to be a costume shop. Mannequins were wearing sheer, reflective, and brightly colored dresses and elaborate hats. It was bizarre to Trashs own sensibilities.
Where do you think you got your cosplayers? Huh? Here! How about your famous Akihabara Maids? They came from here! Is this what this country has come to? Have people forgotten what those kids did here? Oh! It makes me so angry!
Trash relaxed as he realized that the rant was mostly theatrical. Hibiki was trying to make a point.
What are you talking about, Old Goat?
Ah! You geeks! No respect or even understanding. All you care about is your hugging pillows and pornography!
That actually got a laugh out of Trash. Hibiki also realized the show was over and smiled.
The Bamboo-Tribe. They started in the 70s right here. Those brave young kids gathered here to express themselves through imported Western culture, but also to create their own identity, free of the baggage of the older generation that led this country through that disastrous war.
They kept walking up the hill and out of Takeshita Street, towards the main exit to the train station.
Those kids, inspired by rock and roll, gathered here. They didnt know what to do, or even how to dress, so they just made things up. They copied bits of fashion from magazines and Hollywood movies, and invented the rest. Every Sunday, for one day only, each week, they poured out from this station and danced, and lived a life apart from what the adults and society told them to do.
As they passed the station, Trash saw the groups of people gathering on the bridge to the Meiji Shrine. There were a few buskers and comedians, and also many small groups of girls dressed in gothic-Lolita style, as well as a fair amount of what appeared to be Visual-style band cosplayers, complete with guitars, kabuki-style make-up and long wigs of brightly colored hair. It almost felt like a cosplay event on the main street of Akiba.
Harajuku was the birthplace of the Bamboo-Tribe, a sub-culture based on Western music, that embraced creativity, freedom, and an optimistic view of the future. Where would your Akihabara be without those ideals? Without dreams? Still doing nothing but selling radios and washing machines, I bet.
They kept walking until they reached the entrance of Yoyogi Park. As soon as they entered, Trash was shocked by the groups of people lining the pathway into the park.
There were plenty of tourists, of course, and casual visitors, coming to enjoy the nature and scenery inside, but the entrance was mobbed by dozens of groups of people, costumed and arranged in circles.
There seemed to be different types gathered here. Still, there was a shared sense of organization as well.
The one theme that brought them all together was music. Each group had a large portable stereo, or speakers connected to a music player, or something that would allow them to blast out music.
The music was diverse, but most of the groups gravitated toward classic rock and roll. Some of the groups appeared to be dressed like 1950s American teenagers, with large skirts for the girls and large, greasy pompadour haircuts and leather jackets for the guys.
Another group wore the shiny, flowing outfits that Trash noticed at the costume shop on Takeshita Street. Trash realized that the people dressed like this were as old as his uncle, and the rockers appeared to be even older. He almost laughed, imagining his uncle dressed up like this.
Then someone noticed them.
Immediately, a ripple went through the groups. From some of the larger groups, a representative quickly came over to pay respects to the Old Goat. They would quickly run over, then formally bow, before returning to the dancing. They were not surprised to see him here, though they did not stop to talk to him. They just made sure to acknowledge his presence.
Other, smaller groups that appeared to be made up of younger members just watched, though even some of them would bow slightly to Hibiki as they walked through the dancing that filled the street.
Finally, Hibiki led him back, out of the park and up to the entrance of Meiji Shrine once again.
Things have changed much over the years. There used to be so many more, but they got old, grew up, and got responsibilities. There was always change, of course. Disco had its day, Visual-Style continues to dominate, though the breakup of X was a dark time here. I think things havent been the same since then. Hibiki looked sad as he stared across the bridge back to the station.
This bridge used to be closed each Sunday. This was a space just for the young. To play and to dream. No police or chaperones. Just others who shared in their hobbies and aspirations. But times change. Now they keep the bridge open to traffic, and patrol to watch out for trouble.
Trash thought about the flowers on the handmade shrine. They used to close off the main street in Akihabara. Until the massacre. They said they would open it up again, but he knew it would never be the same.
I dont usually do this, but should we visit the shrine? I am enjoying our talk, and Id like to share a bit more. Do you have some time?
The things that Hibiki had shared with him so far, had honestly been surprisingly interesting. While he had little interest in the fashion and the trendmaking of Shibuya, he was, to put it bluntly, shocked by the depth of the culture here, and the similarities to the geek sub-culture of Akiba.
They were rivals, but perhaps they were also comrades indeed.
Trash nodded, and they proceeded to enter the giant wooden gate at the entrance to the shrine, leaving the noise and the music of the street behind.
Chapter Twenty Two: I鈥檓 More Complex Than You Think.
Chapter Twenty Two: Im More Complex Than You Think.
Despite what the Old Goat had said before, they walked in silence.
Crunch, Crunch.
Each step on the loose pebbles that made up the long path to the shrine elicited a loud grinding noise that he could hear inside his head, like biting down on a crispy potato chip.
Crunch, Crunch.
Unlike when he had visited the shrine with Danny, Hibiki walked very slowly and deliberately, keeping their pace relaxed and deliberate.
Crunch, Crunch.
They reached the first inner gate, an even larger gate than the outer one, and then made a turn toward the shrine at the center.
Crunch, Crunch.
There were more people today as it was a weekend. Still, almost no one was talking. He could hear some foreign tourists far ahead of them speaking, and it was quiet enough for him to recognize that it wasnt English that they were speaking. Trash just blocked out the voices.
Crunch, Crunch.
He could tell the difference in their gait by the sounds now. His steps were plodding and monotonous. They were also louder as he kicked up more gravel with each step.
Crunch, Crunch.
Hibikis steps were noticeably quieter. They were also slightly uneven, and he could tell by the sound alone that the man had a limp. Listening closely, he could now hear the sound of the cane as it hit the ground firmly with each of the old-mans left foot steps.
Crunch, Tom-Crunch.
Trash wondered if the reason for the gravel on this road was to-
Bah! Buddhist trickery. Mind games be damned!
Trash turned to look at Hibiki, whose face was looking rather flushed.
They were now just a few steps from the inner gate, and Trash slowly accompanied the Old Goat to sit at a bench next to the purification fountain.
They do that on purpose, you know. Cover the path with loose gravel. The sounds of your footsteps are supposed to help you meditate and clear your mind of thoughts of the outside world. Rubbish. Id believe that if those monks werent driving back and forth in chauffeured cars through the side entrance. If anyone needs a clean mind
Again, the old man had switched to English for his rant.
For me It worked. I lost myself. All I could think about was that sound. I forgot about my troubles outside, Trash admitted.
Oh! I see. It must work better on weaker minds.
Trash was taken off guard by the surprising insult. Then, noting the impish grin on the man, he recognized the sarcastic humor.
I bet you dont have any place in Akihabara like this, do you?
Of course we do. We have Kanda Myojin. Its maybe not as famous as Meiji Shrine, but its one of Tokyos top three! Trash said defensively.
Then he added, It has a long walk, and up a hill too. I dont think even an old goat would be able to make it up to the gate.
His attempt to banter back was rather weak, but the older man smiled as he smacked his cane lightly against Trashs leg.
After a moments thought, Trash added.
We also have a secret shrine like this one. I go there to think. The entrance is long and hidden, like a tunnel. It blocks the noise and the outside world.
Ah, is it an Inari Shrine?
Trash looked at Hibiki blankly.
With foxes. Are there stone foxes there?
After thinking about it for a moment, Trash recalled the two statues of foxes at the base of the small shrine. He nodded his head slowly. How did the Old Goat know about that?
Its a fox shrine. You should bring it something to eat and some nice alcohol next time you go.
You know about it?
Well, Of course, I venture over there from time to time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find replacement parts for old phonographs these days? Its all MD3s now. They sound like shit too.
Trash resisted the urge to correct the man, then realized that the whole shrine question had been a test. He already knew about the secret shrine. He wanted to know how much he knew. Trash was growing to like this weird old man, but he could tell that he shouldnt trust him either.
Let me know when you need help with Hi-Fi equipment. I know many good places.
Oh really? Thats good to know. I will take you up on that someday.
They both washed their hands in the fountain, and Hibiki even took a sip of water from the wooden ladle to rinse out his mouth. Then they entered the Shrine.
Weddings, every Sunday. Half of them with cocky foreign bankers and their new Japanese wives. Well, maybe less these days since Lehman shock. Thank God.
They had stopped as the central courtyard was now blocked by a traditional wedding procession. Contrary to Hibikis statement, this wedding at least, was between two local families, as was evident by the long line of relatives from both sides of the family in the procession.
They watched in silence as the bride and groom, both in traditional wedding kimonos, along with an army of officiants, relatives, and others, paraded through the courtyard before moving to the back of the shrine.
Trash wondered how much it must cost to hold a ceremony in a place like this.
You wouldnt believe how much it costs to get married here. Youd think they could afford to pave that road
Trash realized that he must be telegraphing his thoughts on his face. Everyone around him always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.
After that, they left through the side entrance. This went past a modern wedding hall and down a road that was, in fact, nicely paved. He was starting to see how the old man was crafting every moment ahead, setting things up to give him things to say, and questions to ask. He was both impressed and intimidated by someone who manipulated the world around him as easily as most people breathe.
Luckily, its paved this way.
Trash wanted to assert that he knew what was going on.
Only as far as the terrace. Lets stop there and get something to eat.
Without turning to get a response, Hibiki continued his relaxed pace until they reached the giant casks of donated rice wine along the path to the exit.
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Trash remembered seeing them when he was here as a child, each large enough to conceal a child his size. That specific imagery had always haunted him as a child and, along with this fathers trouble with drinking, may have contributed to his lack of interest in drinking.
There was a restaurant at the terrace near the large gate, and they sat at a quiet table outside in a courtyard area.
Hibiki had ordered a bizarre combination of jellied rice flour confections in roasted soy powder and covered in black-sugar syrup, along with a lemon soda. The clash of the traditional Japanese confection and the sugary Western soda was as jarring as it was oddly appropriate for the strange record shop owner.
Trash, who was still feeling the weight of the huge breakfast, just asked for an iced coffee despite Hibikis offer to pick up the tab.
Trash, I thought it was only fair, since I did all that digging into you, and your family, that I share with you a bit about myself as well. That is if you are interested in hearing about it.
Trash nodded, but also wondered why they were still speaking in English. Especially in a place like this. The old man was weird, though he seemed to have a purpose for every small thing.
How old are you?
That question caught Trash off guard. After a moment of hesitation, he replied, Twenty.
Have you had your birthday this year?
Trash shook his head. His birthday was in August.
So you were born in the first year of Heisei?
Indeed, Trash was born in the first year of the reign of the current Emperor. He hadnt ever given it much thought but was surprised that the old man had calculated the date so quickly.
How old do you suppose I am?
Trash took a moment to think. Was this another test? Did he have any clues or ideas? The Old Goat was old, obviously. At least 70, maybe 80 years old. Well, he didnt know, so he had to guess. If he had to guess, then
83?
Hibikis eyes narrowed.
What makes you think that?
It was just a guess.
Why that age, though? What made you think of 83?
Trash felt embarrassed, he had just grabbed at an idea and ran with it. He hoped it hadnt been high and insulting to the Old goat. Well, there was no harm in explaining his guess anyway. It might even get him some points for thinking it through, at least.
It was just a guess. You mentioned the traditional calendar, so I just thought about the Showa Emperor. If you were born in the first year of the reign of Showa, you would be 83? Right? He hoped that at least the math was correct, or he would look like an idiot.
You are correct.
That was a relief. His history teacher would be proud of him.
Wait.
Correct as in
I am indeed 83 years old. Just like you, I was born in the first year of the new Emperors reign.
Frankly, Trash was flabbergasted. He never expected to be right with such a wild guess.
Trash, you and I; we have far more in common than I think you can imagine. So Id like to tell you my story if thats okay.
And with that, Hibiki told Trash the story of his youth.
As I said, I was born in the first year of Showa, 1926.
The Horikoshi family was a small, but well off merchant clan living in Western Tokyo. I was the only child, and lived with my extended family in a large compound not too far from here.
I was a brash and arrogant child, and my family doted on me as I was the only heir. Especially my grandmother. She ensured I had anything I wanted, and was forgiven any transgression.
That said, I dont think I was a bad child. Spoiled, maybe, but not evil. I would play pranks and even get caught for some petty things, like trying to steal a motorcycle when I was twelve. But I never hurt people, or took things because I was greedy or cruel. Just young, spoiled, and foolish.
My biggest failing, at least according to my family, was my poor taste in friends. You see, When I was quite young, around ten years old, I met the boy who would become my best friend.
My family had an import-export business. We had a lot of warehouses and many, many laborers who did all the hard work, like lifting and transporting goods.
We had a foreman who had been with us for many years. He was a Chosenjin, A native Korean, although back then, they were automatically granted Japanese citizenship as Korea had become part of the Japanese Empire.
He was in charge of managing all the other I wont use that other word again. Ill just use Korean. He was in charge of the Korean laborers. Well, he had been in Japan for many years, and had even married a Japanese woman, although from a lower class. Even then, I am sure her family did not approve. They had a son, who was the same age as me.
His name was Tae-jang Park, but according to his papers, his name was Taizo Arai. I called him Tai. He was always around with his father, so it wasnt long before we struck up a friendship.
Well, to be perfectly honest, I kind of bullied him a bit at first, but that quickly became boring, and I hated boring things, so instead, I drafted him to become my underling.
We got into so much trouble. Of course, Tai would be harshly punished every time we committed some crazy idea of mine, while I got off with a lecture from my father or my grandfather. Then my grandmother would intervene, and Id get off scot-free.
Still, Tai was always loyal. He never blamed me for his trouble. He was never jealous of my wealth. I think you can understand what its like to have a truly loyal friend.
As we went through our teenage years, and even as the world seemed to get crazier and crazier, the adults lost themselves to fear and greed. We plotted our own plans to break free of the madness that seemed to surround us on all sides.
We decided that we were going to escape Japan. Go to Germany, then travel around Europe. Initially, Tai wasnt interested in leaving his family. He had enjoyed the hijinks and plots that we came up with, but he had no concept of life outside of Tokyo. You know, he never learned to speak Korean properly and only knew how to swear, which he learned from the other laborers. That got him scolded by his mother constantly.
I eventually won him over, and we hatched a plan. I would forge some document on a shipment bound for Berlin and we would hide ourselves inside the crates. Then, we could break out and get jobs at the port as deckhands.
Yes, I realize that is a stupid, childish plan. I never said I was a smart kid, just a brave one.
Anyway, as we continued to plan, it slowly became apparent that it would not work. Still, Tai never doubted me. He would always say that he would follow me, no matter what. So, since he didnt give up, neither did I. We were still talking about the great escape when the war came.
Tai was sent away to work in a factory outside of Tokyo. To be honest, I cant imagine the kind of work they forced him to do. Ive heard stories, and they always give me nightmares.
I, too, was drafted into the army. I was sent off to the South Pacific to fight off the Americans.
When the war ended, I was shocked when I got back. Tokyo had been devastated. My house, burned to the ground. My family, my father, my mother, my grandfather, all dead. All our warehouses were gone, and the workers had run away, or been killed, or taken to support some part of the war effort. I heard that Tai had died just as the war ended, killed when the Americans bombed the factory he was working in. Both of his parents had died during the firebombing of Tokyo.
I spent months, lost in despair. I had nothing, no family or friends, no job, no assets, nothing.
Then, one day, I felt a woman grab me on the street. It was my grandmother.
She had survived somehow. My grandfather had sent her out of Tokyo for some trumped-up reason, I am sure. When things got bad, before the fires, he sent her out to stay with her relatives in the countryside.
She still had access to a small amount of the family assets, and had rented a room in Tokyo, then set out to look for me. She had been wandering the streets every day for months.
When she found me, she was weak and sick. I stayed with her and took care of her as best I could. Still, she only lasted another half year. With the surrender, the occupation, the loss of our family, everything. She was a tremendously strong-willed woman, but she lost her will and, with the surrender, and her strength to go on. Once she found me, she had nothing left to tie her to this world.
The last thing she did was arrange for me to leave the country. She said that Japan was done for. She had connections in England, and while there was enmity against the Japanese around the world, she told me to find a way to earn forgiveness so that Japan could be redeemed. After she passed away, I took a ship and left Japan. I didnt return for almost thirty years. When I did, it was to a country that I couldnt even recognize.
Trash looked at the stoic man. As he told the story, he showed no emotion at all.
It was a tremendous story to tell. His first thought was that this was the type of story that Pazu loved to collect. That he wanted to tell on his vlog.
In this day and age, there were fewer and fewer people left who could tell what happened during that time.
Still There was something
Since the first moment he had met this man, there had been these repeating themes.
The first theme was that Hibiki had shown him nothing but kindness. When he acted with disrespect, his lack of manners was ignored and answered with humor and tact. He was peeking into the mans house, and instead of calling the police, he had treated his injuries and cared for him. This made him want to trust the man.
The second theme was the constant probing and testing. Every minute he was with this man, he felt like he was under a microscope. Every conversation seemed to be choreographed to elicit a certain response, that was then evaluated for some unknown purpose. For this reason, it was difficult to trust Hibiki.
The last thing was simply a feeling. He had no concrete evidence, but it was his gut reaction when this Old Goat spoke to him. Trash couldnt say he had the best instincts in the world, but when he had a strong feeling, he usually followed it. He rarely regretted when he followed his gut, even if things didnt go well, but as the last week was a perfect example of, when he did ignore those feelings, he always ended up regretting it.
His gut and all his instincts throughout his interactions with this strange man gave him an impression that was impossible for him to prove but one that he could not ignore.
This man was lying.
Hibiki Mister Hibiki
Hibiki raised his eyebrow.
Would you mind if I ask a strange question?
After a moment, the old man nodded slowly, then locked his eyes onto Trash so intently that he could feel the intensity.
If he got this wrong, who knows how Hibiki would react? What if he got angry
Trash took a deep breath.
Could it be By any chance Are you Tai?
Chapter Twenty Three: Foolish Fools Fooling Foolishly.
Chapter Twenty Three: Foolish Fools Fooling Foolishly.
Why did you ask that question?
The most unnerving thing was the emotionless manner in which Hibiki asked the question.
He did not appear to be surprised, angry, amused, or embarrassed. He displayed no emotion whatsoever. In fact, he asked the question as though he merely wished for some clarification.
Trash pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He needed to explain himself, but his thoughts were scattered. He now realized how rude what he just said could be interpreted, and he was surprised that he had asked it at all.
Hibiki just looked at him, his gaze as unwavering as it was patient.
You told me before, you said You said we had a lot in common. When you told that story, I felt closer to Tai. I am not rich; I was not pampered I just thought that maybe, this would make more sense.
In the back of his mind was a thought he couldnt bring himself to vocalize. It was something that had been yelled at him on school playgrounds, but something he had never once given the power of his own voice. He would never question the national identity of another, any more than he would doubt his own.
Is that all?
He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then he shook his head slowly.
N-no. No. I just felt. I felt that when you were speaking, It just didnt sound sincere? Is that the right word?
Finally, the Old Goats stone mask softened. The slightest grin appeared at the corners of his mouth.
There are some, academics and politicians mostly; who say that the Japanese can be an inscrutable people. Over the years, during the war, then through the great economic boom, and finally the subsequent crash, many people complained that you cannot trust what a Japanese person says to you. That we are two-faced.
Hibiki chuckled as though he had said something funny, but Trash could not discern any humor in that statement.
In my experience, that analysis couldnt be further from the truth. When I speak Japanese, I find it difficult to deceive others. Every time I say something untrue, I fear that my expressions, my body language, the tone of my voice, it will always express my true feelings better than my words. Trash, whenever I asked you a question, regardless of what you said in response, I could tell how you felt, simply by the muscles on your face, the hesitation in your words, or the emphasis in your voice. In my eyes, there are no more honest people than the Japanese. But thats when facing another Japanese person.
Trash thought about that. He wasnt sure he could agree with that. Everyone lied. Some are better at it than others. These days, he dealt with many foreigners from all over the world, and while he didnt have strong feelings about any particular nationality; on the internet, there was a sense of equality. In a place where people hid behind handle names, there was a protocol of balancing trust and privacy.
I learned to lie in London. Of course, after a war, there will always be anger and recrimination. Those who will blame you for the things they have unjustly lost, simply because your face reminds them of the cause of those losses. Every day, In order to survive, I needed to smile, to bow my head, to accept their anger and their blame, and in return, I could only swallow my own losses. To me, Japanese is the language where I always reveal who I am, and English is the language that allows me to be who I need to be.
Again, his own experiences were different, but Trash could understand that explanation. He was always taught never to fight back. When the other children and adults insulted him because of his family background, and called him names, he could never show the anger in his heart. He was taught to act that way by his own family. He was always at fault by the nature of his blood. Even when they escalated, he could only ignore it as though each insult didnt cut into him, but of course, he felt each and every one.
I think I understand. I have a a friend. She said that she thinks and acts differently when she speaks in different languages. She says that the way she talks, and what she does when she speaks English are totally different when she is using Japanese. Im not like that, though. But maybe I am the same. Except I never feel free when I speak with my voice. I prefer talking online. Then, I never have problems with my words. I can check things first. Say what I mean. I trust people I know online more than in person.
Hibikis grin grew larger. He seemed very pleased now.
When I said that we are similar, this is what I was talking about. In my line of work, I need to meet many, many, people. I must be able to quickly understand: Is this a person I can trust? Is this a dependable person? Does this person have the potential to grow, or is this person a risk to themselves and those around them? I dont know if this is an instinct, or if it is a skill that can be learned, but I think it helps when you spend a lot of time observing other people. I also know that it is rare to find someone who does it well.
Hibiki seemed to tire. Sinking a bit into his chair, as though he had finally finished a difficult task and could finally relax.
Trash, I am an old man. Distrusting everyone you meet is easy, but exhausting. You saw the wall of photos in the shop. Do you think I trust any of those snakes? My life would have ended in disaster if I had. But the other pictures, the ones in my study. I know that you noticed them. How they are different.
You werent in any of those pictures.
No, I was the one taking the pictures. I took those pictures so that I could keep them close to me. Because they are the ones who are truly responsible for my success. Those are the ones worth being close to.
What about the others? Why keep all those pictures on the wall, then?
Because they are my valuable customers. The ones who wish to use me, and who I use to accomplish my own goals.
Switching into Japanese, Hibiki continued.
When I spoke to Danny about the nature of business in Japan, I did not fully explain things. Indeed, there are two types of business here, transactional and relational. But that is only a superficial understanding. At first glance, it looks to be true, so people may misinterpret it as wisdom when it is merely sophomoric sociology. The truth is humans are far more complicated, more diverse, and wonderfully contradictory. All relationships are transactional. All transactions are, in turn, relationships.
Trash, what you possess is the starter kit. You have empathy, awareness, and listening skills. The rest, should you choose to walk down this path, will come with time and experience. Build your network of contacts and customers. Nurture relationship like a farmer growing rice.
The key to success, however, will be the ones you surround yourself with. Without those you can trust, you will find yourself adrift in a sea of doubt.
Mister Mister Hibiki. You still have not answered my question.
Hibikis stare penetrated deeply into Trash. He felt as though the old man was cooking him with laser beams coming from his eyes.
You wish to know if you can trust me? Good. Thats what I would expect from my rival.
Hibiki sat back up in his chair. He took a deep breath, and with the same look of sadness in his eyes that had had when he looked at the bridge in front of the shrine entrance, he continued telling his story.
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Hibiki never came back from the war. Things were chaotic then. The losses were so great. Entire communities were gone, and records were lost or damaged. I finally found someone who confirmed that my parents had perished in a fire after the Americans bombed Tokyo, while I had been sent to work in a munitions factory in Osaka.
At the end of the war, the Americans blew that factory up, but we were warned when the attack started and fled. I eventually made my way back to Tokyo, but by then, the war was over, and everything was in chaos.
I had no idea what to do. I had no family or money. Like many of the displaced, I just wandered the streets, begging for food. Then, one day, an old woman grabbed me and started to cry.
The strange thing is that Hibiki and I looked nothing alike. Of course, I knew his grandmother, and she knew me. She and the rest of his family condemned me as a bad influence, and would chase me off if I hung around.
I fear that her mind was broken by the loss of her family, her home, and everything they possessed. Somehow, when she saw me, she switched us in her mind; so great was her desperation to see her precious grandchild.
I had nowhere else to go. I had nothing else at all, not even papers to prove who I was. I went home with her and started to care for her in her declining health.
I kept searching for Hibiki for months, but there was no sign of him. The army records were a mess. He had disappeared along with countless other young men into the war machine. Eventually, I, too, gave up hope. With his grandmother vouching for my identity, I had new documents made in Hibikis name.
From that day, Ive done everything I could to keep my promise to my friend. To fulfill his dream to travel and escape Japan. I have also fought to honor his meaningless sacrifice. Taizo Arai perished in the war. Hibiki Horikoshi returned from the fighting.
For the first time, Trash saw a true emotion from the Old Goat. Only for a moment, the mask cracked, and he saw sadness and loneliness that mirrored his own, but with far greater depth. As though his own struggles were a puddle, and the loss reflected this mans eyes were as deep as the sea.
Trash made up his mind. This man was strange and eccentric. He was a liar, and his words should never be casually trusted. Despite that, however, Trash wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust he was a good person, someone deserving of praise, even if he had done questionable things.
Trashs phone made a buzzing noise, and he quickly pulled it out.
He quickly looked at the message and then placed the phone on the table.
Hibiki, looking even more tired and old, smiled weakly, then looked at the phone.
That was Pazu Hiroyuki. Hes on the train. He should be here in about twenty minutes.
Then shall we go meet him at the station?
Trash nodded.
Whats wrong with your phone?
Oh, I smashed it pretty good during the fall, Trash admitted with an embarrassed look.
Hmph, I see.
They walked back slowly, without another word, until they were back on the bridge by the main station exit. Hibiki let out a long breath and leaned on his cane.
Trash stood by and let the man rest a bit. The crowds had grown, and there were even more kids, but also groups of men with expensive-looking cameras, taking pictures of the goth-loli girls.
It reminded him of the creeps who would hang out at cosplay events, prodding the young girls into various poses. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He felt defensive of his friends, who just wanted to indulge in their hobby.
Things move so fast now. Its hard for me to keep up.
Trash looked at Hibiki, who was also watching the interactions on the bridge.
Its not like it used to be. Maybe it never was all like I remember. Perhaps you cant stay at the forefront of cultural change without being subject to the change yourself. Im afraid that the spirit of those kids is finally leaving this place. Just like the spirit of this old man.
Maybe Trash reluctantly agreed.
I was never a musician. I had no talent, and no time to learn. But I loved the music others made. I did everything I could to encourage them, to give them a path, and a place. Just a few at first, but over time, those few became many, and those many went on to do amazing things.
Hibiki turned and looked up at Trash.
Do you know the song, Turn, Turn, Turn? By the Byrds?
Trash shook his head; he really didnt know much about music, especially the classics.
Hibiki gave him a look of disgust.
It was originally recorded as an American Folk song. The lyrics are basically stolen from a verse in the Bible. From the Book of Ecclesiastes. Then, in 65, an American band turned it into a rock anthem.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
Oh! Yeah, I think I know that one.
Small miracles, Hibiki commented sarcastically.
I dont know about the future of Shibuya, or Harajuku, or Takeshita Street. Perhaps the spirit will evolve again. Maybe it will pass into time. Paved over with corporate branded indistinct blandness. The only thing I am sure of is that I wont be around any longer. Denmark Street wont be around.
Trash realized what Pazu had given up. The Old Goat had wanted a successor, but Pazu wasnt interested.
Maybe Pazu had recommended Trash. There was a connection there. But Hibiki said that he couldnt be Trashs teacher.
I cant take care of Denmark Street for you.
He wasnt sure if he said it as a statement or a question.
God, no! Of course not. I already told you. Just as I told Hiroyuki. You dont know the first things about Anything! Not only that, but you are totally unsuitable.
No, when I die, Denmark Street will pass along with me. Its time is over.
Hibiki started to walk past the station towards the Takeshita Street Exit, where Pazu would come out.
For places like this to exist, someone needs to watch out for the young and innocent. So, we dont sacrifice the dreams of tomorrow for the pride of the old men. The man who ordered Taizo into that weapons factory, and the one who sent Hibiki into that battlefield. Did you know that their grandsons are on that wall in Denmark Street? Smiling, standing next to this crazy old man.
What?
You really must start to learn more about current events. You may know plenty about gadgets and cartoon characters, but your lack of common sense is really embarrassing.
They are called MP3s, not MD3s.
What?
The digital music files. They are called MP3s. You called them MD3s
As his words trailed off, Trash realized how childish he sounded.
Hibiki stared at him. Then started laughing so hard he almost tripped, and Trash had to reach out and grab the old mans elbow to steady him.
Quite a sight we must be. An old goat from Shibuya and a snot-nosed kid from Akihabara.
They met up with Pazu who was waiting for them at the exit to the station. Pazu, properly trained in etiquette, brought along a box of Belgian waffles that he picked up at Akihabara station, which he handed to Agbor as they reached Denmark Street.
It seemed that this was a good enough excuse to stop for tea again, and they sat for a while, eating the waffles with tea in the sitting room.
Even as they enjoyed the snack; Trash was starting to worry about the amount of sugar the Old Goat consumed. Hibiki motioned for Agbor to come over and whispered something to the giant, who quickly left the room. He came back a minute later with a small bag which he placed in front of Trash.
Trash, about your phone. I feel bad that you broke your phone while foolishly playing around outside my window.
Trash didnt know exactly how to respond to the acid-laced sympathy, so he just nodded politely while giving Pazu a look.
Harumph, Anyway. I get gifts of gadgets and gizmos from time to time that I have no need of at all. As I have a perfectly good phone, How about I give you one of these freebies?
Pulling out his phone from his waist, Hibiki showed off his personal device.
Trash frowned. The phone the man was waving around proudly was easily recognizable.
Thats an infobar, isnt it?
Yes! Whoever designed this was a genius. Its beautiful!
Trash looked at the device with a mix of wonder and disgust. He agreed that it was a classic design, but it was ancient.
Thats the original. Not even the infobar 2. That phone is seven years old, Trash said with disbelief in his voice.
Still works perfectly. Unlike some people, I know how to take care of my things and make sure they last. Besides, I dont think they will ever make a more beautiful phone. Those new things are nothing but glass rectangles. How anyone gets paid to make something like that
Trash clutched at his heart as though he had been cruelly shot.
Then he reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. He wondered what ancient relic failed to meet the standards of this man. It probably wasnt even 3G.
Trash looked at the box with a confused expression. He turned it over to confirm it was indeed real. Then he showed it to Pazu, giving him a shocked look.
Thats insane! How do you even have this? It just came out,Pazu reacted enthusiastically.
Trash shook his head. Pazu was wrong. He hadnt noticed. He didnt realize what it was.
Oh, that? One of my friends sent it to me. He always wants to show off his newest toys. Anyway, I dont like those new ones. This is the peak of design and function,Hibiki said, showing off the red and white candybar phone in his hand.
Thats so lucky. I ordered one, but havent picked it up yet. Ill get mine this week.
Trash looked at his stupid friend and shook his head more violently, still unable to find the words.
Pazu frowned at Trashs reaction.
Its okay, he said he got it as a gift. Just accept it. Besides, your old phone is smashed, Pazu said encouragingly.
Trash held the box up to his friends face.
Its white! He finally managed to blurt out.
Huh? What are you
How can you have this?
I told you, my friend sent it to me.
But they canceled it. A couple of weeks ago. They said the white one had issues, and its been delayed. They are only selling the black ones.
Oh, really? Well, he sent it maybe a month ago. Must have been before the problem was found. Sorry, I didnt know it was defective. If you dont wan-
Ill take it!
Chapter Twenty Four: Do a Barrel Roll!
Chapter Twenty Four: Do a Barrel Roll!
The noise of the train came through the window, waking him up.
Keeping his eyes closed, Trash lay in bed, listening to the familiar sounds of his room. Every few seconds now, he could hear the rumbling of another train passing by on the tracks above the window. He could feel the slight breeze from the open window. The morning air was still cool, and not as humid as it had been for the last few days. Hopefully, this meant no rain today.
After lying in his bed like that for a few minutes, Trash decided he should get up. He knew he had a lot of things to do, but he was still in a daze over the events of the last few days. Also, he still had a headache.
Deciding that dealing with the pain took priority, Trash slowly rolled out of bed. He found the shopping bag on the floor next to the door of his bedroom and dug through it until he found the box of aspirin he had thrown in it. He felt a twinge of guilt for taking it without asking, but he figured no one would care, and he knew he didnt have any painkillers left in the box next to his sink where he kept pills and such.
Freeing a couple of the tablets, he walked over to the sink and was about to fill a cup with water when he had a second thought. He washed the pills down with a room-temperature can of coffee instead.
He put down the half-empty can, wishing he had also grabbed one of those Belgian waffles that Pazu had brought with him. Instead, he dug around the kitchen until he found a couple of Country Maam cookies that were probably still good. He opened one up and chewed on it while he finished off the coffee. He put the other one by the sink in case he got hungry later.
He washed his face in the sink and ran the water through his hair, careful not to press on the lump, now much smaller than the day before. He carefully dried off, and then rummaged through his laundry bag for some clothes, settling on a UT shirt with Lum and Tiger Mask on the front. The letters at the bottom of the shirt spelled out TIGER FIGHT.
Then he went to his desk. It was actually an old worktable from the factory that he had brought up, but it worked surprisingly well, and was actually quite stylish, at least according to the vloggers that Trash had been checking out in order to get ideas for improving Pazus video setup.
On top was a junk monitor and a PC that he had cobbled together from a mix of junk parts and heavily discounted, premium parts. Spec-wise, he was confident it was worth three times the amount of money he had put into it, though it wasnt much to look at.
As he booted up the computer, he checked his phone.
It was there. It wasnt a dream. Plugged into a charging cable was his new treasure. It was so valuable that he had hesitated even taking it out of the box, but in the end, Pazu had convinced him to use it. He said it would be a conversation starter to help him pull in customers.
He had checked out online and found that a couple of the phones had been glimpsed in the wild, mostly held by advance review tech journalists, but apparently, the company had recalled them all before the launch cancellation. He guessed that they forgot about the one the Old Goat had, though how he had gotten one was a mystery. Actually it was more likely that he just ignored their request for the phone to be sent back.
That meant, that Trash might have the only one of these phones in the entire country. A true white whale. That might actually make it more dangerous and tricky to try and sell it, especially if the company tried to come and take it back.
With that flimsy logic backing him up, Trash had transferred all his data to the new phone the night before and now it should be charged up and ready to go.
Without a doubt, it was a beautiful device. A mix of metal and glass. He had stopped by Yodobashi Camera on the way back from Harajuku in order to get a screen protector and a clear protective case. Luckily they already had stocked a variety of accessories for the launch. Not wanting to risk his new treasure for even a moment, he had applied all the cosmetic guards before he had even attempted to power it on for the first time.
As the computer finally finished starting up, Trash started going through his messages on his phone.
Still no word from Sakamoto, which was very strange. Trash checked to make sure he was not blocked, but he could still view Ryos Twitter account. There were simply no new posts. This was rather unusual as Ryo was a prolific user online.
Dannys account was still blocked, and his public feed was quiet without any new updates.
Well, at least he could put that whole nightmare behind him. Trash realized that he had come through far better off than he had any right to ask for, though it had still fallen short of his hopes.
He didnt mind. He was motivated now. He would figure out what to do, and while he wasnt exactly sure what he wanted to do going forward, the hints Hibiki had given him, had given him the motivation to try something with all the effort he could muster. He finally felt he had the courage to face the difficulties ahead.
Fuck!
He swore out loud as he saw the next message.
[Stopping by to talk.]
Why was that prick coming? Why now? Wasnt it a weekday? He should be at work. This was bad. Bad. Very bad. Trash could feel the panic driving him to nearly hyperventilate. He attempted to calm himself down by taking a deep breath.
It helped. He took another.
Quickly, he sent an emergency message to Pazu.
[SOB Uncle is coming. What do I do? (?????? )]
[SAVE ME!]
He waited, but there was no response. Pazu was probably still asleep.
FUCK!
Screaming into the void made him feel a bit better. He and Pazu had strategized a bit on the train ride back. He would play his uncles game and see if it got him enough points to weather the storm, at least temporarily.
Taking another deep breath, he went over the plan.
Option 1: Let him stay by paying rent. He figured he could afford 50C65 thousand yen a month as long as there were no extra deposits. To be honest, that was more than a fair price for a place in this condition, but it only worked if they didnt plan to sell off the property.
Option 2: Extend the grace period. If he could get just a few more months, and actually took it seriously, unlike the warnings over the last year, Trash was sure he could save up enough to put himself in a better position to find a new place. He needed to aggressively sell his collection, but he wouldnt need to sell it off in a fire sale.
Option 3: Threaten to get a lawyer. This was Pazus suggestion. Trash wasnt sure if he had any rights, but Pazu pushed him, saying that if he could get a lawyer to help him, he might at least be able to put pressure on his relatives to look at the other options more favorably.
While these plans seemed great the day before, Trash was starting to lose confidence with his uncles early appearance.
As long as he had known his uncle and aunt, they had always treated him like an eyesore. He wasnt sure why they disliked him so much. It might have been sibling rivalry with his father, who was generally looked upon by the family as an embarrassment. He also suspected that his mother might have something to do with the strong enmity.
Maybe because she was a foreigner, or because she had been working in a club before getting married. Whenever they spoke about her, it was with a judgemental and condescending tone. Trash recognized that this was similar to the way they spoke about him as well.
This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
His grandfather never piled on him like his uncle or aunt, but he never stood up for him either. In fact, he always acted like Trash didnt exist, even when he lived in the same house. He had never once spoken directly with his grandfather. Instead, everything went through his uncle.
Trash checked the time stamp on the message. His uncle always texted while on the way over, so he wouldnt have much time. Quickly, he swapped out his cargo shorts for a pair of jeans and was about to swap out the t-shirt for something more generic, but he started thinking about the words and the images on the shirt. Tiger Fight indeed. Instead, he grabbed an old white dress shirt that, thankfully, had not wrinkled too much in the laundry bag. He waved it around to straighten it out as much as possible, then threw it on over the t-shirt without buttoning it or tucking it in.
He grabbed his wallet and phone and stuck them in a pocket on his backpack, then went down to wait for his uncle outside. His uncle never came inside, so when they met, he usually just stood outside.
He would go down and talk to his uncle, then head off to Charon. Hopefully, Pazu would get his message. He had a feeling he would need his friend afterward.
When he opened the door to the factory, he was shocked to see his uncle already outside. He saw the short man wearing an expensive business suit, glaring at the factory from across the narrow street.
Trashs father had not been a large man. He was average at best. By the time Trash was in middle school, he was already taller than his father. His uncle was even shorter than his father, though they were definitely brothers, with many shared features.
Trash always assumed he took more after his mother. By the time he stopped growing, he was already 180cm tall, and though he didnt have any features that made him look obviously foreign, his jawline was more pronounced, and his eyes were closer together than any of his relatives. His hair was also thicker, much to his relief. His uncle already sported a barcode combover that Trash hoped he could avoid.
Upon seeing Trash exit the building, Trash noticed the mans face contort through several different emotions. What was surprising was that the emotions he saw registering on his uncles face were not at all what he was expecting.
He was expecting the usual annoyance and disgust that he saw every time he met with his uncle. Instead, the moment he saw Trash, his face flashed intense anger. Just for a moment, and then it was suppressed, but for a moment, Trash saw rage in the mans face. As poor as his relationship with his uncle had always been, he had never seen such anger directed at him before.
Then, just as quickly, Trash saw the anger quickly replaced with something else. It took a moment to register, but the next emotion he could see was just as unusual. His uncle looked at him with worry. For a moment, he thought his uncle might have heard about the accident, but realized that was impossible. His uncle was certainly not worried about his health. While it was a look of worry, it was not the kind where you care about someone else. He was worried about himself. It was a look of fear.
As Trash wondered what was going on, his uncle quickly put a mask over his expression. This was the normal face he wore. Cold and uncaring. A businessman who saw no value in his nephew or his silly, childish hobbies.
Shin, ehem yes. Good morning. Im glad that I caught you.
Good morning.
Yes Well, I have some things that I would like to discuss with you. Is there a cafe somewhere nearby where we can sit and talk?
Trash was flabbergasted. He had never heard his uncle say something like that to him. Perhaps, once, after his father had died. They sat in the old family house, and he told Trash that he would need to move out to the old factory. That was the closest thing to kindness he had ever heard from his uncle.
Shin?
Trash inwardly bristled at hearing his name. Then he realized he must have been gawking.
Umm. Yes. Theres one a couple of blocks away. Is that okay?
Still confused by his uncles demeanor, Trash quickly searched his mental database and decided on the Italian chain cafe near the Suehirocho station, not far from the laundromat he used, the one that served alcohol.
A few minutes later, they were sitting at a small table outside the cafe. As was typical on a weekday, the area was rather deserted, though cars and trucks continued to speed by on the busy street.
How have you been, Shin?
Fine, thanks for asking. Trash answered robotically. This situation was getting stranger and more unusual by the minute.
Yes Well, the reason I came over was to talk about your moving out of the apartment.
Trash froze. His mind went blank as he desperately tried to remember the details of the plans he and Pazu had come up with.
File not found.
In a panic, Trash desperately tried to regain his thoughts, but perhaps he was still a bit fuzzy from the hit to the head, or just his general state of mind, he couldnt focus. It felt like he was trying to catch eels, desperately trying to wrangle his slippery, wriggling, thoughts straight.
If you would prefer to continue to use the apartment, your aunt Hiroko and I have decided that, provided you immediately start looking for a reasonable job, you can continue with the current arrangement.
Trash was so dumbfounded that he didnt register the words properly.
He was like a man overboard, who, having fallen off a ship, knocks away the life preserver thrown at them in a panic.
Desperate to get control of himself, he took a deep breath to calm himself. Then took a moment to organize his thoughts so that he could What, What?!
What? He blurted out.
Another flash of anger and annoyance passed over his uncles face.
I said, if you want to stay in the apartment, it is okay. For the time being. Although perhaps we can talk about you contributing some rent, once you get a decent job.
What the fuck?
That was the first thought in Trashs head. He was almost angry that his relatives had done this to him again. Wound him up and tortured him, for what? Were they just playing with him?
Then came the relief. He could stay. He didnt need to move out. Even if they made him pay rent at least he could work on a way, just like he had planned.
This was the best of all solutions. He was shocked and relieved.
Well, what do you think?
Cautiously, Trash nodded.
Of course, you asshole! Of course, I want to stay! Trash held his true thoughts inside his mask. Instead, he realized that he was simply nodding like an idiot. He stopped moving his head, but kept his mouth closed, out of fear he would say something and lose this chance.
Fine. Then, lets just keep things the way they are for now. Later, we can look at drawing up some papers and setting up a rental agreement, but I wont push that until you get a steady income. Is that fine?
Trash nodded, when suddenly a phone rang.
Trash pulled out his new phone, but it wasnt the one ringing. His uncle was looking at his own phone. Then he made a sour expression, and looked back up at Trash with almost a suspicious glare.
Its the office. I need to take this. Ill talk over there.
His uncle stood up and walked over to the corner of the street, outside of earshot.
Trash was still sitting in a state of shock. Then he unlocked his phone so that he could message Pazu. Things would be okay! He could stay at the Ooba factory after all. He could stay in Akihabara.
There was already a response from Pazu. He must have woken up.
PAZU [Warning! New information! DO NOT AGREE TO ANYTHING.]
PAZU [DONT SIGN ANYTHING! Repeat: DONT SIGN ANYTHING!]
PAZU [Talked to Mom. Shes got your back.]
PAZU [Coming2U WhereRU?]
PAZU [CALL ME!]
WTF?
What was going on? His uncle shows up early; then he says everything is fine. Now Pazu says dont agree? How does he know? His Mom?
Trash remembered that his mother worked for some high-power law firm. International business law or something. That was where most of their money came from, actually. But what would she know about something like this?
Trash hit CALL on his phone; immediately, it started to dial Pazus number.
One ring later, Pazu answered.
Trash! Thank God. You havent signed anything, right? They might try to screw you again. I cant believe those fuckers. They really are the worst. Even Saki is on your side.
Pazu? Whats going on?
Dont sign anything. No matter what. Your uncle, your aunt, they have been screwing you bad.
Huh? Was all he could get in before Pazu started up again.
I should have asked Mom before. Once we found out. Why didnt you tell me earlier? Anyway, its not like she did anything. It was the Old Goat. It must have been. He called Mom and asked her to explain this to me to us.
Explain what? What are you talking about? They are going to let me stay at the Ooba Factory. Rent free for now. Until I get a job, at least.
Thats it. Thats the scam. Fucking bastards! Hibiki. That shady Old Goat! I bet it took him just one phone call. He had your whole family checked out. Something came back saying the paperwork was odd. You dont need to pay rent. They cant kick you out.
Huh? What are you talking about?
Ooba Factory. Its yours. Your grandfather. He left it to you, in a trust. You know what a trust is? Anyway, its yours. You dont need to pay rent on a building you own. Your uncle and aunt, they were waiting for you to reach adulthood so that you could legally give it to them. Fuckers already have all the other properties and plenty of money from your grandfather. You actually got the smallest share by far, but they wanted to make sure you to got nothing!
Trash let the words spin around in his head. Was that possible? Maybe. But why did his grandfather
Anyway, My mom wants to talk to you. She spoke with someone at the law firm that handles your grandfathers estate. They said they didnt know anything about it. Seems they are scared by whoever Hibiki got to check up on things. Anyway, until you talk to Mom, DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING!
Trash saw his uncle walking back. He looked annoyed.
Alright. Let me finish up here, then lets meet up. Thanks Pazu.
Trash disconnected the call just as his uncle sat back down.
Trash wanted to reach over the table and strangle the little man. His entire life, he had lived in fear of his uncle. Now, for the first time, he realized how small and fragile the man was. Trash had no doubt that he could easily lift him up and throw him in the middle of the street if he wanted.
Why had he been such a coward all his life?
Kenichi Ooba looked at his nephew. There was a fire in the young mans eyes he had never seen. For the first time, he realized how large he had grown. Now, he saw murder in the boys glare.
So, you know?Kenichi said.
Trashs jaw flexed, but he said nothing. Just nodded his head slightly.
Without another word, Kenichi stood up, walked to the road, and flagged down a taxi.
Piece of shit trash, he muttered as he stepped into the car and the door closed behind him.
Chapter Twenty Five: I Don鈥檛 Need A Weapon; My Friends Are My Power!
Chapter Twenty Five: I Dont Need A Weapon; My Friends Are My Power!
Where are you now?
Im out in front of Suehirocho Station.
Wait there, Im coming over.
No, its okay. Hes gone, and Im going to leave in a minute. Just catching my breath. What the hell just happened?
You didnt agree to anything, did you?
Trash hesitated.
What? You didnt agree, did you?
I nodded my head. Does that count?
Hmm. Probably not. Anyway, you need to talk to Mom. She can explain. I have no idea about this stuff.
How is your mom involved? Isnt she some kind of corporate lawyer?
She is. I told you, she didnt do anything. It was the Old Goat. Hibiki called her this morning. It seems he got someone to check into your grandfathers estate. There was something fishy going on with the will. So they contacted the law firm handling everything, and then the whole thing kinda exploded.
What do you mean, exploded?
Mom says that your uncle and aunt were messing around with the estate, trying to cut your fathers share out. It was supposed to go to you. The law firm might have been in on it, but now that they know people are looking, they are playing nice.
Trash sat at the table, staring out at the road. Now that his uncles face was out of his sight, the anger he had felt a moment ago was gone, replaced by confusion and, now, a hint of hope.
Anyway, Mom is looking around to find a lawyer to help you. Someone trustworthy and experienced in estate law. She said for now, dont agree to anything and dont sign anything. Shell call tonight and explain whats going on.
Is it really mine? No joke?
Yeah, seems so. Anyway. Are you coming over here? Or I can head over there and meet you.
Nah, Im done here. Ill head over to your place. I should be there in about ten minutes.
Cool. See you then. Oh, and congratulations!
Huh?
Youre now a landowner!
Trash didnt know how to respond to that.
Still there?
Dunno. Shit! Im still freaking out. Anyway. Ill see you soon.
Trash hesitated, then added.
Hey, thanks, Pazu. Seriously.
Seeya.
Shaking off the stunned reaction, Trash got up from the table and looked around.
He felt strange. The sound around him was muffled, like when you took a fast elevator. He felt oddly detached, and worried that this was all a dream. Maybe he was hallucinating because of the hit to his head.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, it was an unknown number. He didnt want to answer it, but considering everything that was going on, he was too scared not to. Holding the phone up to his head, he hit the answer button.
Hello, Mr. Trash?
Yes?
Hi, This is Harold. Harold Shinohara, from the Victoria Hotel. I was wondering if you got my message.
Wheels spun around in Trashs head as he put the pieces together. Dannys hotel. The text message from the manager. Danny! Danny had already left. Harold Shinohara
Yeah, sorry. Yes. I got your message. Thanks for the update. Sorry I didnt get back to you.
Oh, Great! Thank you again for your assistance.
No, I really didnt-
I was hoping you might be able to stop by the hotel again. I have a small token of thanks Id like to give you.
Huh?
The hotel, by any chance, would it be convenient for you to stop by?
What was with this weird hotel? Why did they keep asking him to go there? Was that normal? It didnt feel like something that hotel managers normally did.
Mr. Trash?
Oh, sorry. Yeah. I mean. Yes. I am not far now, actually.
He was staring at the entrance to Suehirocho station. He was sure the Ginza Line could get him to Yurakucho in just a few minutes.
Thats fantastic. Is there any way you could stop by today, then?
Trash decided that he might as well just go. He didnt want anything from the deal to hang over his head any longer. Since Sakamoto had disappeared and Danny took off, this should finally clear the air.
Sure. I can be there in around half an hour. Does that work?
Really? Thats great! Just stop by and ask for me.
Okay. Thanks.
Ill see you soon. Thanks Mr. Trash.
Trash hit disconnect, then quickly sent a message off to Pazu telling him he would be taking a detour and would stop by later.
Half an hour later, Trash was back in the scenic hotel bar, sitting at the same table he and the manager had sat at only a few days earlier. Harold had greeted him warmly and brought him back up the elevator. This time, he could see all of Tokyo clearly, though some haze enveloped Mount Fuji behind a grey wall.
First of all, I would like you to take this.
Harold picked up a tall and narrow bag and placed it on the table. It looked like a bottle of something.
Not knowing what else to do, Trash accepted the bag, looking inside as he pulled it across the table.
It was indeed a bottle. Of wine, apparently. Trash had no knowledge of Western wines, and had never even drunk any before. Still, he knew they could be quite valuable, so he was nervous to accept the gift.
This as well.
Next, Harold slid an envelope across to Trash. Trash checked inside, unsure if that was acceptable. Still, he was curious why he was receiving gifts like this.
Its an invitation for a free dinner for two at our restaurant. You simply need to call that number and provide the code on that card to make a reservation anytime you would like. Its for a full-course dinner at the restaurant one floor below this bar, so Im sure you will enjoy it.
It certainly sounded nice. Not that Trash had any idea what it would be like to eat in such a fancy place. This place made Capricieux look like a local diner. He was sure a T-shirt and jeans would not be acceptable, no matter how clean they were.
At the minimum, he was sure these gifts were worth quite a lot. What he didnt understand was why he was receiving them directly from the general manager of the hotel.
Thank you. Are you sure it is okay for me to receive these?
Certainly. Actually
Harold reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve one more envelope.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
I have one more thing to give to you. This was given to me by Mr. Landis. He asked me to deliver it to you personally if possible.
While the first envelope was small, this envelope was a normal-sized envelope for sending letters. As Trash opened it, he could see that both the envelope and the paper inside were on stationary with the hotels name and logo stamped on them.
What was inside was, in fact, a letter. A handwritten one. Trash scanned to the bottom and read the name signed at the end.
Lancelet.
Hey Trash,
Sorry to ghost you like that. There are reasons that I cant explain now, but youll find out eventually. I heard that the hotel called you to find out where I was. Sorry to get you tied up in that.
I know I promised you something, but it might take me a little while to make good on it. Again, Im sorry about that. Rest assured, Ill make it up to you. Things will be a bit complicated for a while, though.
For now, its probably better if you dont talk about anything we were working on. Youll figure out why later. If it bothers you, Im sorry.
Ill reach out to you after things settle down. If you are still annoyed, I understand. I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed the tour of Akihabara. Regardless of what happens, Ill always think of you as a comrade.
All the best,
-Lancelet
Trash read through the note twice, but still didnt understand what Danny was talking about. What had happened? This wasnt an explanation of anything at all.
Mr. Trash Would you mind if I ask you a personal question?
Trash looked up from the letter, still trying to decode what it said. Once the question registered, he nodded.
What type of work is it that you do?
Trash thought about the question for a moment. In the past, he would answer with something vague, mostly because he was embarrassed by what others thought of someone like him.
Now, with the question in front of him, He realized that if things were going to change for him, he needed to change as well. Otherwise, he would eventually be right back where he was a week ago. Hibiki had shown him a glimpse of what was possible, but no one was going to spell out his path forward. He needed to learn to overcome challenges instead of letting them run over him like a truck.
Im a rare item hunter and a fixer. I find and obtain hard to get items for my customers. Most of my clients are overseas.
Harold nodded.
I see. That makes sense. That explains how you know Mr. Landis, as well as your English ability.
Can I ask about Dann- Mr. Landis? What happened to his room?
Harold chuckled.
According to Mr. Landis, it was a bottle of Japanese whiskey and a bad business meeting. It appears things have worked out, however, and he agreed to pay for the damage. Its unusual, but not unheard of in hotels like this. Still, Im new here, so I needed to err on the side of caution. Thats why I have handled things so aggressively. Im sorry to have bothered you.
No. Its my fault for not being of more help to you. I had no idea Da- Mr. Landis would do something like that.
Trash had another question, and he decided to ask. He would probably never get another chance after all.
If you dont mind me asking. How much does one of those rooms cost for a night?
Hmm. Thats one of our junior suites, so depending on the night and conditions, around 180 thousand yen a night.
Trash almost choked on his tongue. 180,000 yen? Per night?
He pulled out his phone and pulled up the calculator app. He started punching in numbers to make sure he had the math right. Danny had spent no less than half a million yen, just wandering around Tokyo for a few days. What was he doing? If he had money to throw around like that, why did he even bother-
Wait a second! Is that
Trash looked up to see the shocked expression on the managers face.
Is that the new iPhone? A white one?
Trash was impressed. Was this man also a comrade of sorts? He remembered seeing the hotel managers phone. It was also a new iPhone, and on the day of launch. He must have waited somewhere to pick up one when the stores opened, or else maybe paid someone to do it for him. Either way, he had to be more than a standard fan. Recognizing Trashs rare phone for what it was made that a certainty.
Yeah, it is.
How did you get one? I heard that there were none at all.
From a friend. Im sorry, I really cant say more.
Oh! Of course. You know, Im kind of an Apple super fan.
Trash smiled, enjoying the look of awe and jealousy on the well-dressed man.
After that, they made small talk for about twenty minutes. Trash was surprised that the manager could sit and have such a leisurely chat with someone who was not even a guest, but he realized now exactly how much of a VIP Danny must be. Considering how much he likely spent in this hotel chain, it was no wonder they treated Trash with such deference.
Harold, was actually Hajime Shinohara. While a full-blooded Japanese, he had been born in London, and mostly grew up abroad. He went by a Western name as he never cared much for the name Hajime. He had worked at the Victoria Hotels in London and Hong Kong for almost twenty years before finally getting a chance for the promotion to general manager of the Tokyo hotel.
Since there was a London connection, Trash decided to ask.
Would you, by any chance, know the name Hibiki Horikoshi?
Of course! Hes well-regarded in London as well as Tokyo. Harold explained that the previous GM of the Victoria had even tried to arrange a meeting for him after he had moved back to Japan and taken over the position, though because of scheduling conflicts, he had yet to have a chance to meet him.
When Trash said that he could try to arrange something, Harolds eyes bugged out in surprise.
When Harold looked at the 20-year-old young man, wearing a t-shirt with cartoon characters on the front, covered in a wrinkled dress shirt worn like a jacket, he remembered what a mess he had been when he had been that age. Drinking at the pub every night with his mates from Uni.
This young man, who already ran a business and worked with tech entrepreneurs, had contacts with one of the most connected people in Tokyo and somehow managed to get his hands on a rare phone that no one else had.
If only he had that kind of drive when he was that young. Where would he be now, he wondered.
Mr. Trash, if you have a minute. Id like to introduce you to one of my employees.
Sure and you can just call me Trash. Thats what my friends call me. Or if thats too weird you can call me Shin Shin Ooba.
Trash then, and please call me Harold.
Harold introduced Trash to his head concierge, who turned out to be the man who had called and asked him to come to the hotel that first time.
Mr. Ooba is someone who can obtain things that might be impossible otherwise. Keep him in mind if you get any challenging requests, particularly the Akihabara type. I think we get a lot of those, dont we? Im sure he would be a great connection to have.
Trash had never been treated by someone with respect like this. Sure, he would receive polite service like any other person, but he always felt like there was mockery in the eyes behind the smiling faces.
This hotel worker, who was at least four or five years older than himself, now regarded him like an important person after that introduction from his boss.
It made Trash uncomfortable, and yet he couldnt help but feel pleased as well. He was starting to understand how people would fight for fame and power if this were how everyone treated them.
Trash took the train back to Akiba. Getting off at the platform, he took a moment to look out at the Electric Town below. Again, he was struck by how connected he felt here. Maybe this is how Hibiki feels when he looks out a Takeshita Street, or the Jingumae Bridge. This was his town. Where he belonged. Knowing that he still had a place here made him want to jump up and shout out in triumph.
Stopping by a convenience store on the way, Trash bought some snacks to take over to Pazus. He figured this would shock Saki, who always complained when he showed up empty-handed. It was just some sodas, chips, and cookies, but he realized how valuable his friends were, and how important it was to let them know how much he valued them.
All relationships are transactional. All transactions are, in turn, relationships, the Old Goats words echoed in his ears.
As he passed by the UDX building, Trash detoured to the secret path leading to the hidden shrine. It was dark, quiet, and empty as usual.
Standing in front of the shrine, he pulled out the package of fried tofu-wrapped sushi he had picked up at the convenience store. There were four pieces in the package, which felt kind of unlucky, so he opened up the package and grabbed one, shoving it whole into his mouth. The sweet and slightly sour taste of the seasoned rice and tofu reminded Trash that it was almost lunchtime. He looked at the two foxes facing him from the base of the shrine, then at the three remaining pieces of sushi.
Best not to cause unnecessary conflicts, he thought, putting another piece into his mouth and chewing.
To make up for it, Trash took out the bag with the bottle of wine he had received from Harold. Making sure to take the voucher out first, He placed the bottle and the sushi on the stone in front of the shrine.
Clapping twice, he bowed and gave thanks for what was certainly a life-changing week. He wasnt converting into a religious person, but he figured there was no harm in showing some appreciation.
Feeling much lighter, Trash walked back through the alleyway to the noisy streets of Akihabara.
Finally! I was wondering when you were going to show up. Come in, we made fried pork loin rice bowls.
Seriously? How could I get so lucky?
Its not luck, if you are always here to eat free food.
Lay off Trash. Hes been through a lot. This is a celebration! Besides, we already finished filming making it, so if we dont eat it, it will just go to waste.
Here! I picked this up on the way over.
Trash handed the plastic bag with drinks and snacks to Saki.
She was dressed in what looked like a black paramilitary outfit. But it was super tight fitting, and the chest was zipped down far lower than seemed practical. She also had long dark red hair and green-colored contacts in her eyes. It took him a minute to place the costume, as the movie wasnt out yet. It was the sequel to that popular Hollywood action movie. He had seen the trailer online several times already, and the scene with this outfit had been featured prominently. Trash was impressed by the details in the costume. It was entirely black and covered in MOLLE straps and pockets while somehow remaining amazingly form-fitting. The material she used must be thinner and more flexible than Kevlar.
Hey! Perv! Stop staring. Its gross.
Hey Trash! You brought snacks! See Saki. Anyway, have a seat, and Ill bring out the food. We have a lot to talk about.
They ate together, and Trash savored the deep-fried fatty pork. Pazus cooking had been steadily improving, and this was probably his best yet. The pork was soft and juicy, the breading light and crunchy, while the seasoned egg added that gooey saltiness that paired it perfectly with the rice.
Trash ate slowly, enjoying each bite. Meanwhile, Pazu explained what his mother had told him earlier.
She is still waiting for copies of the documents, but it appears that your grandfather had a rather standard distribution of assets in his will. Also, it looks like it hasnt been updated for a while. Years maybe, Pazu relayed.
Ill wait for her to explain the details, but basically, there is now a trust in your name. It includes the building and enough funds to take care of taxes and stuff. Not much more than that, so you should leave the fund alone if you want to keep the building. All youll still need to pay for is utilities and stuff.
I can do that?
I think so, ask my Mom. I dont really get most of that stuff. She said she could connect you to a new law firm to handle the trust. She thinks the one your grandfather appointed is a bit shady. Anyway, the bottom line is you can stay there as long as you want. Or you can sell it, and youll probably have a good amount of capital if youre going to move somewhere else.
Trash would figure that out later. For now He was safe. He could stay in Akihabara as long as he wanted. Well, he still needed to start bringing in real money, but that was a tomorrow problem, and for now, he has simply happy to know that he still had more tomorrows ahead.
Except now he really did owe that Old Goat.
Chapter Twenty Six: INSERT COIN TO CONTINUE
Chapter Twenty Six: INSERT COIN TO CONTINUE
JNN News Alert:
July 5, 2010
A Japanese national was arrested today at Changi International Airport in Singapore. Ryoichi Sakamoto (45), a company employee, was arrested on multiple charges, including intellectual property theft, embezzlement, and numerous economic protection statutes. He is accused of attempting to sell corporate secrets and technology to an unnamed foreign company for two hundred thousand US dollars. Bank accounts and assets in his name have been seized and the investigation is ongoing.
A joint cooperative effort between the Tokyo Metropolitan Police white collar crimes division and the Singapore National Police Agency resulted in Sakamotos arrest upon his arrival at Singapores Changi Airport early this morning.
It is unclear if he will be tried in Singapore or extradited back to Japan, where additional charges are being considered.
JHK World Business News
July 11, 2010
Hansa Electronics Corporation has announced a 37 trillion yen (USD 400 million) investment in the Singapore-based Castrum Technologies startup founded by American tech entrepreneur Daniel Landis. The new company will focus on developing Hansa proprietary technologies to create AI-powered wearable technology solutions for the next generation of cell phones and mobile devices.
Hansa CEO, Toshio Shimizu, met Mr. Landis today in the Hansa corporate headquarters building in Kachidoki to sign the agreement. He declared that Hansa, with its new partnership with Castrum, would become the global leader in mobile technology solutions, meeting the growing demands of global customers, by providing answers based on traditional Japanese values and human-centric, innovative design.
Castum had announced that they will soon be opening an office in Japan to develop new products and service the Japanese market.
Trash only took a single step into the store before the manager waved him to come over. He must have been keeping an eye out.
Feeling a quick rush of panic, it took a moment before he remembered that it was still too early for the rent on his boxes to be due. That was the fifteenth of every month, and Trash was always careful to keep it paid up. Luckily, he still had enough cash from the travelers checks to cover his expenses for a couple more months at least.
If it wasnt the rent, then what did the manager want to talk to him about?
Your boxes are empty.
What? Why? I am sure I paid the rent.
No, not like that. Someone came in the other day. They bought everything in every one of your boxes.
Huh?
That statement was so nonsensical, that his brain rejected it. Trash turned around to look toward the rows of big boxes, quickly finding his, the closest one to the front of the store.
It was indeed empty.
Hey! Wheres my stuff? How can you just empty my box like that? I know I paid the rent.
Listen to me. You arent paying attention. We didnt remove your things. Someone bought it. All of it.
Trash blinked a few times. The words were like a rice cake that was too big. He could fit it in his mouth, but simply could not find a way to swallow it.
Hey! Listen to me. Someone came in. Figured out which boxes were yours, then came over and bought every single thing in each one of your boxes.
All of it?
Yes. Every last piece.
All of it?
YES!
Why?
How should I know? Not my business. Anyway, we cant pay you that much in cash, so you need to give us your bank details so that we can transfer everything to you.
So all my boxes are empty?
Yes! Why are you such an idiot? Your boxes are sold out. All of them. Every single item in every single box. Look, we need your bank details to forward you the money. Anything over 100,000 yen needs to be paid via bank transfer. You know that, right?
How much?
The manager went over to the register and pulled out a thin binder.
856,253 yen.
Trash coughed/choked like he had swallowed a fly.
What!?
856,253 yen. Whats wrong with you? You are starting to get annoying.
Trash had known this manager for years, and though they rarely spoke about anything but his boxes status, they were familiar enough that Trash knew he was joking. Probably.
Yeah, sorry. Thanks. Ill fill in my bank info. Thanks. No, wait. Who bought it?
Some tourist. A foreigner. He had this weird phone app and spoke into it to translate since it looked like he didnt understand a word of Japanese. Also, he laughed like a donkey that was kicked in the throat,the manager added with a wince.
Danny? It had to be him. Why would Danny buy out his boxes? Danny had all his stuff?
Where is all the stuff? No way he carried it all out, right?
No, he had us ship it. Paid extra for that.
Do you still have the shipping receipt?
Yeah. Just a second.
The manager went back and got another binder from under the counter. He leafed through it and pulled out several thin half sheets of paper.
Oh, wait. I dont think Im supposed to share this with anyone.
Huh? Really?
Nah, I honestly dont care. Just stop being so annoying. Here you go, but Ill need them back.
The manager handed the receipts to Trash.
Each was for a package delivery company. Right at the top of each receipt, under recipient, written in English, was his name and address. The boxes with his stuff were shipped to himself?
He looked again. That was his name. His real name. Danny didnt know
Hibiki, again. Thats the only way.
Trash had seen the news. Actually, it had been Meg who forwarded him the article about Danny.
As for Sakamoto, it would have been hard to miss the news story about a Japanese national arrested overseas for corporate espionage. The story had been all over the news for several days.
Trash had been trying to figure out what had happened. Still, the pieces didnt quite fit.
The reason that Sakamoto stopped returning his messages seemed to be easy enough. At first, Trash had been worried that the police might show up and question him, but it appeared that they hadnt connected them. Not yet, at least.
Sakamoto going to Singapore to get caught was also strange. Especially after he had been so adamant about not going. Maybe the extra money had something to do with it. He had been arrested for taking twice the amount that Danny had initially offered. Was that all it had taken? If that was all it was, it made Trash want to smack both of those guys for what they put him through.
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It bothered him to think that after everything, Sakamoto and Danny worked out a new deal without him involved. Sakamoto giving in after getting the better offer, and Danny using his commission to bump up the amount seemed cruel.
If that was true, it pissed him off a bit. They both just cut him out. Especially Sakamoto, who suddenly stopped responding to his messages after they got to Harajuku. If that was the case, then he must have already known that Danny wasnt there. He knew Trash was wasting his time and the whole thing with the ledge
Well, it was hard to get too angry at a guy who was now sitting in a Singaporean jail.
But what about Danny? How had he managed to make a deal to get Hansa to fund his company? That smelled worse than week-old fish. It seemed obvious that Danny sold out Sakamoto, but there was no way he put a deal like that together in just a couple of days.
That meant Danny was planning to sell out Sakamoto from the beginning. The whole thing must have been a trap. A deal he made with Hansa to get his funding. He just needed to set up Sakamoto and get him to go to Singapore
And what about Hibiki? Did he know? Is that why that whole meeting was so strange? If Danny had the backing of Hansa, theres no reason he couldnt get unlimited amounts of cash if he wanted it. But if he gave Sakamoto the cash, then hed never get on the plane.
Trash wondered if the CEO of Hansa had his picture up on Hibikis wall. He probably did.
Danny had cut him off. Blocked him on Twitter. Then he left that weird note with Harold. Now he was paying him by buying up his stock and returning everything? Was Danny protecting him?
He wondered if he would ever find out the whole story.
Yours werent the only boxes that the guy bought out.
Huh?
He also bought a bunch of animation cells too, and a couple of Suppons custom figures. Days like that make me want to convince the owner we need to get sales commissions.
Did he ship those, too?
Nah. He had those wrapped up and took them with him. Also one of the models from your boxes.
Really? Which one?
I dont know. What does it matter? You are really getting on my nerves. Why do you keep making me repeat myself?
The manager gave him a wry smile.
Anyway, congratulations. This gives us hope, you know. If customers are happy, maybe we can survive the move.
So its really happening?
Yeah. Next year sometime. Probably.
Damn. That sucks.
Tell me about it. Anyway, what do you want to do with your boxes?
Ill keep them. Ill come back and restock. Maybe need a day or two.
Really? Thats great. Im not sure youll get another whale like that, though.
Probably not. Anyway, Why dont you switch me to the six-month plan? Ill get a discount, right?
Yeah. 15%.
Great. Take the rent out of the sales. Then, transfer the balance. Well figure out what to do after your new location is locked in. Maybe I can get some better box locations if I buy-in early.
Sure. Well keep you updated. Want me to add your phone number to your account? Then we can call you instead of email.
Sure.
Trash finished the paperwork and left the rental box store in a daze. He checked the first floor store and got a similar story. Between the two stores, Danny had figured out a way to send him more than 1.2 million yen in cash anonymously.
By the time he got back to his apartment, there was a delivery slip already on his door.
Trash realized that Danny was probably still here in Japan. Staying at the Victoria most likely. He was tempted to go there. He could send a message to Harold, though he was sure the manager would protect the privacy of his golden goose guest.
He set the redelivery time for the next morning. Then spent the rest of the night going through his collection to figure out how to restock all those boxes. This was a great chance to reorganize and reprice everything. He could clear out the junk, and make sure the priority stuff was positioned to move. There was no way he was going to fall into the same pit he had fallen into over the last year. He was going to need more space to organize his stuff.
When the boxes were delivered the next morning, Trash found another letter inside one of them.
Identical to the one he had received from Harold weeks earlier, this one was also written on Victoria Hotel stationery.
Hi Trash,
Hope everything is going well. Heard you had a bit of a rough time. Glad to hear it wasnt too serious.
By now, you probably know most of what happened. Sorry, I cant explain more at this time. Maybe someday. For now, I just hope you arent too upset with me.
I want you to know you were more helpful than you probably realize. Lets just say I owe you a couple more favors. Hope the money makes up for some of it. I should be able to start posting again soon and will unblock my Twitter. If you ever need something from me, just drop me a line. Though we should avoid talking about the stuff from before, deal?
Oh, I took one of your Gundams. I hope you dont mind. They are really well made. If you stock more in the future, I might pick up some more.
As you might have heard, I should be around from time to time. Like I said before, I hope that in the future, you can be one of those people who will pick up the phone when I call asking for a favor. Judging by the way I seem to be living my life, I fear I will always be short of that kind of friend.
I will try to do the same for you.
-Lancelet
(090)-XXX-1977
Trash and Pazu were busy trying to figure out how to install a soundproofed interviewing booth in the restaurant.
After doing more research, Pazu had to adjust his original plan. Rather than serving the food directly to people, it appeared that it would work better if he just distributed the lunch boxes he made during his videos through a food security NPO that someone had mentioned in the comments of one of his videos.
It turned out that the organization was actually based in a building just a block from the French bistro, Capricieux. That made it easy as they could hand deliver the food.
In exchange for the food, they agreed to let him advertise his offer. This made it easier to reach out to people who needed it, especially if they didnt have access to the internet, or the time to watch YouTube videos. For anyone who agreed to be interviewed, Pazu would give them ten free lunches at the restaurant.
The interviews would be recut as audio only, and played over pre-recorded video of him cooking. This way, he could reuse a lot of his old leftover video clips.
Also, for every 10,000 views any of the videos received, that person could come back and get an additional ten free meals. Meals could be saved and used one at a time, or shared with others.
Trash was a bit worried. He anticipated that there might be so many people willing to go through with it that the restaurant would get swamped, all while not bringing in any revenue at all.
Dont worry about it. That just means a lot of people would get fed who need it. Whats wrong with that? Besides, If that happens, it would also mean I am getting a lot of views on my videos. The ad revenue alone should be enough to pay for everything, even if every meal I serve here is free. Ive also received a few contacts from sponsors. Mostly cooking equipment companies.
That didnt quite reassure Trash, who promised to donate as much time as he could. Besides helping set up the recording equipment, and helping with the translations, he promised to help staff the restaurant when it got busy.
As reckless as Pazus plan was, it sounded a lot like the kind of thing Hibiki had been talking about. Young people are trying to find ways to make the world better, doing what they love instead of what society tells them is the correct way to live.
If Trash ever found a way to make his business successful, he wanted to support ideas like this. People who defied the normie paradigm. Not just selling toys to selfish geeks and wealthy collectors.
Akihabara was one of the undisputed centers of culture in Japan, though not everyone recognized the value that the geeks, the gadget hounds, and maids brought to the country.
There were artists and creators and the armies of fans who supported them. Innovators, who grew up on fictional and fantastic tales of technology and fantasy, and dedicated their lives to bringing those ideas into the real world.
Trash couldnt create things like they did. He wasnt an artist, or a programmer. He didnt know how to design a robot, or craft a digital avatar. He needed another way to contribute.
Hibiki had given him a hint. Not a plan, but an idea.
He wanted there to be a purpose. Something that the normies may not understand, but that a true comrade would recognize as a noble cause.
But something else that Hibiki had shown him was that he still had a long way to go. He had a base of operations for now, but that was a trifle compared to what he would need to run a successful business, let alone leave any kind of a mark on the world.
Maybe he could get there eventually, as long as he still had others willing to pick him up when he fell off the ledge.
Hey, this is for you. Pazu handed Trash a garment bag.
What is it?
Saki made this. Well, originally, it was for Satsuki. They were working on a new costume for the summer Comiket festival in Odaiba. After you gave us that engagement present, though she felt bad about the other jacket, so she adjusted this to fit you. Luckily, Satsuki is almost as tall as you.
She Gerbera Tetrad it for me? What about Meg? Shes not going to be pissed at me, is she?
Nah, you know those guys. They already had a couple of backup costumes in the works. Meg said to give this to you as a congratulations gift for becoming a CEO.
In the end, Trash had decided to keep Ooba Industries and the factory. Pazus mother had indeed found another small legal office that could take over the management of the trust in his name. She had vouched for their trustworthiness.
The trust was set up simply, so there wasnt much he needed to do. Through it, he had inherited Ooba Industries, a joint-stock company. Technically, the company owned the building, but he was named as CEO of the company and all assets it contained. It seems that this had been the case ever since his father had passed away, and he had inherited it from his father. For some reason, his grandfather had never changed his will. Now that he was an adult, he had full control.
The trust maintained an account where all the liquid assets were held. This was set up and managed by an investment company, which ensured that the fund didnt dry up, accounting was done, and taxes were paid. As advertised, there wasnt much in the account, beyond what was needed to keep it up to date on its obligations.
Provided Trash didnt touch the trust, the company and building would take care of themselves for decades to come. As a bonus, he could use the corporation to turn his informal business into a legitimate company. Still, as Pazu had noted, for now he was effectively broke unless he sold off the building.
Trash wanted to try and use the familiar place as a base of operations to launch his new goal. It might take years, but now he had that time. He could focus on building his network, refining his products, and learning more about what it takes to truly stand on his own. All this had been put into motion when he became a legal adult. Now, it was time for him to become a true adult.
When I showed her the voucher, she freaked out, you know? Shes been locked away for days now, designing clothes for us to wear. I just hope I dont have to dress up like some maiden-game prince, you know? With pantaloons and ruffles and all that. If that happens, Im going to blame you.
Trash smirked as he unzipped the bag and pulled out a heavy leather jacket.
It was very red.
He knew that anything Saki made would be amazing, but his first reaction was a bit of a letdown. The whole jacket was the same color. Still, it was stylish and well-made. Kind of like that one Michael Jackson wore in the zombie music video.
Pazu had a twisted grin on his face, obviously looking forward to seeing his reaction. He would need to make sure to rave about it-
Trash turned over the jacket and immediately recognized the large emblem embossed on the back of the jacket.
NO WAY! ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?!?
End Part III:
Epilogue: GAME OVER
Epilogue: GAME OVER
April 7, 2011
Trying to move the machine by himself had been a mistake.
Trash sat on the ground in front of the shutters, trying to recover. Fortunately, the pain was already subsiding. Hopefully, he had just pulled a muscle in his back, rather than something more serious.
Always lift with your legs. The common sense wisdom was making more sense. Maybe he was getting old? Was 21 too young to start talking like that?
Looking around at the nearly deserted street, he just hoped that he could recover before Mr. Sakuma arrived with the truck.
Trash had been so eager to clear out the junk on the first floor that he got a bit ahead of himself. With no idea what most of the machines were, it was foolish to try to start shifting things around. He had been at it for less than thirty minutes before a hard pull had been answered with a sharp pain in his back.
Waiting for the pain to subside, Trash admired what he had accomplished so far.
Most of the first-floor workshop had already been cleared out. Only a few heavy pieces of machinery and some boxes of miscellaneous parts were left.
He was lucky that Mr. Sakuma had agreed to take all the junk off his hands, even the stuff he probably wouldnt need.
After doing some research, Trash managed to identify most of the equipment that had been stored in the factory. It turned out that the products that Ooba Industries used to make were, in fact, casting molds for jewelry.
That information wasnt useful at first. After all, he had no idea how to use any of it, and most of it was antique to begin with. It did, however, explain the location of the factory. Just to the north were streets full of jewelers. Trash had walked past the shops hundreds of times.
Arming himself with photographs of the equipment, He started to visit shops and the offices of local business associations. While he was able to confirm the research he had done and even found some of the companys old customers, his plan to find someone to buy the equipment from him quickly died.
As he feared, the equipment was too specialized and too old. After all, the business had failed more than a decade earlier.
That had been the plan before the big disaster up in Fukushima. Since then, his priorities changed.
The earthquake had felt very strong, but it actually hadnt been so serious in Tokyo. Unlike up North, there was hardly any damage visible on the streets.
For Trash, things had been less good.
It didnt help that the building was ancient. It was worse because of all the stuff he had loaded in the store room on the second floor.
Part of the floor had broken through, spilling his collection all over the first floor. Machines had fallen over and then had boxes of random items sprinkled over them like an ice cream sundae, creating a giant mess. That had been the last straw.
As soon as things settled down, he went out again with a new offer. Take it all. Free. Just make it go away.
Even with that offer, it seemed that no one would take him up on it, until Mr. Sakuma, one of the nearby jewelers, agreed to help him clear everything out.
He wasnt sure what the old man would do with the equipment, but frankly, he didnt care. He just wanted the space cleared.
What they had discovered while cleaning up the shop had made it worth it, ten times over.
He had been cleaning and moving things for weeks now, and as soon as he had cleared most of the small items from the first floor, a new secret was revealed.
There was a second set of stairs in the rear of the building. In the entire time he lived there, he had no idea. It was a small stairway that had been completely obscured with boxes, but it led to a large basement.
The basement was crammed full of nothing but old molds. All were worthless, and in the end, he had to pay just to dispose of them all, but it was still a huge win. Once the first floor was cleared, he would have triple the amount of space than he had previously. There were even usable shelves in the basement.
After todays load, the building would finally be cleared of all the old junk. He still needed to get the ceiling repaired, but once he did, he had so many ideas of what to do with all the space.
Ideally, he would put a full bathroom upstairs, and finally get an air conditioner too. Then, he could remodel the first floor and maybe put in a small storefront. He could keep the downstairs as his storage space, turning the entire third floor into his living space.
All that would cost a fortune, though, so it was a far-off dream at this point.
That said, business had been very good lately. The quake had been bad at first. He lost around ten percent of his stock to the floor collapse, and even a few of his prized pieces had been ruined.
He had been despondent by the losses and the damage done to the building, but then the calls started coming in.
His relationship with Harold Shinohara and the Victoria Hotel had redefined his entire world. For the last year, the hotel had sent him dozens of requests for everything from video games, to tours of the vintage music equipment shops in Akihabara. Harold had also helped connect him to other GMs at the other five-star hotels in Tokyo. Through this network alone, he had almost more work than he could keep up with.
Not every job was profitable, but the relationships he had cultivated were priceless. This became clear after the earthquake.
As foreign news crews converged on Japan after the disaster, Trash was slammed with requests. From sourcing dosimeters to measure radiation exposure, to acting as a translator and guide when needed, Trash had expanded his customer base and products offered exponentially.
At a minimum, he wasnt too worried about the repair costs for the floor anymore. With more income, more space, and more customers, things were heading in a direction he wouldnt have dreamed of a year ago.
Of course, this boom wouldnt last. Things were already slowing down as the foreign news crews were starting to head back, now that the nuclear crisis was seemingly averted.
Trash was already looking for new ways to position his services. Luckily, Hibiki had some ideas.
Next month, he was scheduled to meet with a number of different government agencies. There was a desire to increase tourism in Japan, highlighting various aspects of Japanese culture abroad.
While Trash was intimately aware of the global interest in Japanese cartoons, comic books, and video games, he was surprised to learn that even in the Kasumigaseki, there were people pushing to promote the geek sub-culture.
Trash had always thought that there was a stigma around Akiba-style amongst the normies, but his initial conversations had shown far more than a grudging acceptance.
Feeling better, Trash stood up. He gave up on moving any more machinery for now and would wait for Mr. Sakuma and his workmen.
Lined up along the back wall were the only things that would stay. Several dozen boxes, mostly filled with rescued items that survived the floor collapse, were stacked neatly, waiting to be moved into the basement. There were a few larger items as well, including a life-size standup of Manaka Takane, wearing a pink polka-dotted bikini.
One box was open. It held a few items that Trash kept separate because he was getting ready to deliver them, or he wanted to handle them with special care.
Reaching into the box, Trash pulled out a white cardboard electronics packing box. The same type of box he had given Danny in the French restaurant. He opened it to check the contents.
Inside was a perfect, mint condition, original Nintendo GameBoy. It was the only one he had in this such good condition, and it had been one of the first things he had checked on after the earthquake.
It lacked the original box, but inside the styrofoam-lined box was an original instruction manual, a pack of four brand-new AA batteries, and even an AC adapter, although the original models did not include either.
He also included in the box, the original six launch cartridges. Alleyway, Baseball, Super Mario Land, Yakuman, Tetris, and Tennis, though the last two were exclusives from the American launch.
It pained him to give up this piece. Still, he did not regret passing it on. After all, the gift he had received was probably worth many times the commercial value of the video game. It was his duty to share a worthy piece of his culture as part of the exchange.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
He thought about the elegantly framed record album that hung on his wall, right behind his desk. The plain white square only had the name of the band on the front. Trash admired the simplicity of the design, reminding him of Apple products. He knew that the true value was hidden inside, however, with the four signatures next to the photos of each of the four band members, scribbled on the inside of the cover.
Trash put the box down and picked up the clear bag next to it.
He unzipped the plastic airtight seal, listening to the sound as the air rushed back into the space.
Taking out the jacket, he felt misty-eyed. Preserved in the same condition as it had ended up that night, the colors of his ruined MS-09 Dom jacket were still vibrant. The ripped fabric now looked like torn flesh in his eyes, and he had to put the jacket down.
This would go back upstairs with his most precious treasures. He had come to see the loss of the jacket as a noble sacrifice. The jacket offered itself, not only to save his life, but to restore his fortune.
Folding the jacket so that he could slide it back into the vacuum bag, he felt something hard. Trash felt around inside the fabric until he found the object. It looked like a small plastic toy, wrapped in plastic that had been hidden inside the secret pocket.
Taking it out, he looked at the unfamiliar object. It took a minute before he could place it.
A small plastic disc with a picture of a garbage can on it.
Trash unwrapped the cellophane and looked at the disk. Danny had said it was a USB drive. Indeed, the disk split in half when he pulled on the side. Protruding from the center was a USB drive.
Smiling at the cute toy, Trash pondered putting it into his PC to see what it actually held. Then he decided against it.
You are my Tamatebako, arent you? Tempting me to open you so that all my fortune will return to the Princess under the sea. Well, not today. Not yet, at least.
He put the USB back in the pocket, then placed the jacket back into the bag, squeezing the air out of it before sealing it again.
Then he noticed the slip of paper that had been inside the wrapper. Picking it up, he read what was written on it.
Beside a cartoon picture of a slice of pizza was a handwritten note.
Mr. Landis!
Have a SLICE on us! We put 1,000 BTC on this drive. LOL!
Remember! Say NO to Trash! There is nothing we cant bring back!
From your friends at DataSAVERS
Trash crumpled the note and the wrapper, then tossed them both into the empty box he was using for trash.
After the last piece was loaded on the truck, Trash bowed to Mr. Sakuma.
Thank you so much for your effort. This has been a great help to me.
Dont make too much of it. This may be helpful to my companys future. We have heard that videos of traditional Japanese crafting styles are getting popular abroad. My nephew was hoping we could turn this into an attraction of some kind. Allow people to forge their own jewelry. Thank you for allowing us to use these things again.
Oh! Thats wonderful. If you can get it all working, let me know. I have friends who make YouTube content. I will try to find people who can help promote your effort. Im truly sorry I am not able to assist with any knowledge. I regret never learning anything.
Not at all. This alone is a big step for us.
After exchanging more pleasantries, Trash waved as the truck drove down the street.
Then he turned to admire the empty space. It had always seemed so small when it had been crammed with junk. Now, it looked huge. Trash was giddy thinking of all the possibilities.
Then he noticed the gaping hole in the ceiling and frowned.
Gonna have to take care of that next.
Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. 10:47.
Pleased, Trash realized he was ahead of schedule. He should be able to pick up the delivery from Charon and drop it off at the food bank, then get back with plenty of time to get ready for the party.
First, he grabbed his jacket off a hook on the wall. The Red motorcycle jacket was certainly eye-catching. He rolled up the sleeves, a feature that had apparently given Saki a lot of trouble as it wasnt something most jackets of this type did. The end result might not be practical, but it was screen-accurate, and it looked cool.
Then he grabbed the helmet. It had originally been part of his collection, but having the opportunity to use it personally was too much of a temptation. He had already lost so much during the quake, what was another 30,000 yen. The plum-red colored helmet felt like the spiritual successor to his MS-09 Dom jacket. The identifier, MS-06S, was printed in black military stencil along the side of his limited edition motorcycle helmet.
Parked against the wall of the newly cleared workspace was Trashs new pride and joy.
He rolled the 2007 Honda Zoomer scooter out onto the road, before grabbing his bag and shutting the front shutter. He attached the bag to the rack on the back of the bike, then checked to make sure the building was locked up.
The Zoomer had been expensive, over 100,000 yen, used, but it had been a true godsend when the trains stopped running after the quake. Thanks to this scooter, he had been able to make deliveries all over Tokyo, as well as help his friends. Of course, that meant that ever since, he had been making regular deliveries for Saki. He was sure he could drive to Ochanomizu with his eyes closed now.
He couldnt complain, though, considering her gift had been the main impetus behind him getting the scooter in the first place. She had also found a designer who sold custom vinyl skins for Zoomers and got him one that finished the effect perfectly.
He hit the road, a 50cc red comet on the road, the large emblem on his back proclaiming;
GOOD FOR HEALTH
BAD FOR EDUCATION
There had been some disagreement on where to go for the party, but in the end, they had decided on Aoyama Cemetery.
Trash had voted for Chidorigafuchi. It had the moat, and it was closer, too. Also, it seemed weird to have a party in a cemetery.
The girls vetoed that as they had been to Chidorigafuchi before and found it too hard to take pictures on the narrow pathways. Since that was the main reason for the party, his vote didnt count anyway.
The location also made it easier to invite Hibiki to join.
In the end, the extra supplies that Charon was donating to the Tohoku relief efforts ended up taking two trips. Still, he was able to finish the deliveries and return the scooter to his building, then shower, get dressed in a more presentable outfit, and get back to Charon just in time to join everyone to taxi to the cemetery.
Wearing the outfit Saki had picked out for him was still uncomfortable. Still, even he knew that he couldnt meet government representatives wearing cargo pants and cartoon-covered T-shirts. Upgrading his wardrobe had been another major change.
Today, he had on a pair of dark slacks, a white dress shirt, and a forest green sports jacket. The leather shoes were still getting broken in, and he knew it was going to hurt, taking them off later. Finding things in his size had been a nightmare, but the price tag had hurt more than falling off a two-story building.
He refused to go full normie, so slung over his shoulder was a bright green turtle shell backpack, complete with ten large white spikes protruding from the surface in all directions.
Inside was his gift for Hibiki, and the flowers for Meg.
Saki was not in cosplay, though she was dressed for the occasion. Wearing a light pink summer kimono, and her hair done up in a fashionable style, she wouldnt draw a second glance considering the venue and the season. That is unless you looked closely. Her features, and makeup were flawless, easily outclassing the countless other girls walking around in similar dress. Regardless of what she wore, Saki was Saki.
Pazu was dressed similarly to Trash, but had on a pink shirt and grey jacket. Together, the three of them would fit in anywhere in Tokyo. Trash couldnt decide if he wanted to throw up or cry.
The only one who stuck out was Satsuki.
While she also wore a traditional kimono, hers had a distinct, old-fashioned feel. Her kimono was also light pink, but with large dark pink flowers embossed in the fabric. The style was a traditional girls graduation kimono, complete with bright red trousers worn over the skirt.
When she stepped out of the taxi, Trash finally noticed the wide purple belt, tied with a long flowing tail and oversized red ribbon, tying up her jet black ponytail. Recognizing the outfit, he suddenly burst out laughing.
That was until Saki kicked him in the knee. Lucky for him, it was very difficult to kick people while wearing a kimono.
But Its Sakura! Sakura Shinguji! Its so perfect Satsuki, you win! You are the greatest! I bow to your cosplay mastery.
The very image of a Taisho-era heroine, not a sign of the modern, westernized girl visible, Satsuki frowned.
It doesnt feel right without the sword. I dont think Sakura would accept this.
Just endure it for now. Well get arrested for bringing a sword into the cemetery during cherry blossom season, even a fake one. Well take some pictures later with the sword someplace indoors, promised Pazu.
But I want the pictures under the trees!Satsuki pouted.
We could try going to Ueno at sunrise, Trash offered.
As if. No way that works. At best, we can find a few trees in a small park somewhere. Anyway, lets get going. Your Harajuku Godfather must be waiting for us.
Here, Trash took the flowers from his bag and handed them to Saki.
Saki presented the flowers to Satsuki, then stood back.
Trash and Pazu were ready. They pulled the party streamers and fired.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR GRADUATION!
They all yelled together.
After Sophia University had canceled the commencement ceremony due to the earthquake, they had all planned this party to let Satsuki wear the costume she had prepared specifically for the event.
A cherry blossom viewing party.
A blushing Satsuki bowed deeply. Then, they showered her with another round of streamers.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW JOB!
On Trashs suggestion, Meg applied to and was offered a full-time position working as a marketing associate in the newly formed Castrum Japan, Ltd. Co.
Returnees have a notoriously difficult time getting regular employment as their school records dont show the expected Japanese schools. That and her hair and tattoos all but ensured most Japanese companies would boot her from consideration on sight.
Castrum, on the other hand, seemed ready to make her an offer as soon as she walked through the door. The salary and conditions were better than most Japanese companies as well.
As they congratulated her again, Satsuki looked at Trash, giving him a wink that sent shivers down his spine.
Then Saki made Trash and Pazu clean up all the streamers off the ground.
Agbor had set up a glorious picnic spread, and they ate sandwiches and rice balls while the girls took thousands of pictures under the cherry blossoms. The cemetery was indeed a perfect place to enjoy the beautiful pink flowers in a picturesque setting.
Trash sat next to Hibiki, discussing the government initiative.
Dont put too much faith in those bureaucrats. They get paid to waste taxpayer money. Wasting your time, they will happily do for free.
Trash smiled. He had expected that reaction.
Then, why did you put my name forward?
They may be fools, but even fools can be useful under the right circumstances. Look at you!
Not taking the bait, Trash took out the box from his bag.
Opening the box, Hibiki gasped.
You know, he said, closing the box and holding it in his lap. I remember when these first went on sale. I really wanted to get one of these, but I never had any children. They only sold them in toy stores, and I was too embarrassed to go inside to buy one.
Trash saw that sad look in the old mans eyes as he watched Pazu desperately trying to keep up with the two girls endless demands for more pictures.
Trash, youve grown a lot this year. The only thing I worry about is I cant say I dont have regrets. About the way I lived my life. I did what I wanted to do, but looking back I sometimes wonder if I did everything I needed to do.
Trash suddenly stood up.
He wanted to believe he had changed for the better. He had not forsaken his geek ideals, but was trying to fashion a new path. One that would hopefully help him and, at the same time, defend and elevate the things that were important to him.
He wasnt a pure geek anymore, not in these shoes, anyway. He would never be a normie, either. He had finally found goals worth pouring his passion into. He also understood how important other people were to accomplishing his dreams if he wanted to succeed on this path.
Bending down, he reached out a hand to his rival, mentor, and comrade.
Hey, you Old Goat, life is too short for regrets. Lets go take pictures with young women, under the cherry blossom trees.
(TRASH: The End)
Afterward
Afterward:
The final chapter of TRASH just went live, and I can feel a giant weight lift. While this book was a Writathon project, it has consumed a huge amount of my mental energy for two months now.
Initially, I envisioned doing just a novella for my entry this year. Then, for some insane reason, I decided to also re-enter Chnibyou as well, meaning I needed 111,000 words in five weeks. That would easily beat my record for output.
Why I decided to do that, I have long forgotten. That fuzzy reasoning has been lost to recrimination and tears. Still, somehow, I managed to make it to the end.
I actually started a couple of weeks before the contest. I spent two weeks drafting character descriptions, chapter outlines, and a plot outline.
The general story outline was over two years old. It was originally a concept short story based on a side character of another story I was thinking about. Ill come back to that.
I highly recommend having written notes, reference outlines, and character descriptions done before starting to write a new story. I even mocked up character designs with Dall-E to help give my imagination consistency throughout the story. Even though I made countless changes during the writing, I would never have been able to keep up with the writing schedule without all of those crutches.
As for those changes, there were surprisingly few major ones, but I could never count all the minor ones.
The original story concept had a more dramatic ending involving a more adversarial relationship between Hibiki and Trash, along with a physical altercation with Agbor, but not long after I started writing part two, I started to want to push into a slightly different tangent.
The characters of Meguri and Harold were also added after I started writing, and Sakis role was expanded. Having finished the story, its hard to even remember how the story was supposed to progress without these characters.
While I know it is far from complete, I am very happy with how things turned out. In the end, Trash was expanded out to a full 90,000 word novel.
Now, I should explain what I want to do going forward.
This story is completed. I have no plans for a TRASH 2, but as I mentioned earlier, the original concept was a short story featuring side characters from another book I want to write.
Both Trash and Danny were brought over from that story. However, this was meant to be an origin story, a major reason that the book took place in 2010. Both characters were side characters from that story, which is supposed to be set in the future, approximately 25 years from now.
I still have notes and plans for that book, and now I am feeling more confident that it may be something that I can pull off. If that happens, I made sure to write TRASH in a way that I will still be able to use these characters as intended. Rest assured, there remains unfinished business between Trash and Danny.
Pazu was an interesting character to write. He was always meant to be a Jiminy Cricket to Trashs Pinocchio. Charon, however, was yet another old idea. The Charon Cafe was something I thought of a long time ago, as a way to write an anthology of short character story stories.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
At least in the short term, this is perhaps my most realistic next project. While Trash is finished, I feel this is far the last time we will see him.
Trashs perspective, in many ways, is my own. While in reality, we are very different in almost every meaningful way, his viewpoint mirrored my own.
I have also spent countless hours wandering those streets. While most of the locations are either famous landmarks or amalgamations of places, I used to hang out in.
The Cure Maid Cafe is quite real, though its location has moved from above the Gatchapon shop to a better location. Sofmap, Yodobashi Camera, and TRADERS, are all still magnet stores in Akihabara, and the UDX building is a landmark. The outlet stores are where I used to shop regularly until internet sales pushed many of them to full online stores. Capricieux and the Victoria Hotel are fictional, but if you ever visit Patati Patata in Asakusabashi, or the Peninsula Hotel in Hibiya, you may notice many similarities.
While Harajuku, Takeshita Street, and Meiji Shrine are largely unchanged, as Hibiki predicted, the atmosphere has changed greatly over the last twenty years as tourism and corporations have pushed in to replace the old bohemian culture.
Likewise, things continue to change in Akihabara. More and more large office buildings have moved in, while declining economic activity has stifled the anticipated boom from the urban redevelopment project.
A large part of writing this book was an attempt to capture and preserve a place and a time that was precious to me. More than anything, this was what pushed me to keep writing.
So, with no more updates, what will happen to TRASH?
Well, as Royal Road is a platform for serial writing, I will likely remove it sometime in the near future. Ill be looking at it again, as I would like to edit it into a book that I can put up on Amazon, or try to see if I can find a publisher who is interested in it.
This wont be too soon. I anticipate it will take months for a rewrite, but yes, eventually, it could be stubbed or removed entirely.
So before that happens, I want to thank everyone who has read and supported the book in Royal Road. I know that a story like this is not what people expect to see, but thank you for giving it, and me, a chance.
I also want to send a special thanks to ahoge_bird, Haru Desu Kato, Ragged1, User000001590, and Turtles are different from Tortoises aka Suppon, for all the feedback and writing support.
Also, to those who left a comment or suggestion, thank you so much for your encouragement and support!
Trish,Subhash, Pengtron, Apollobound, MorfiTM, o0shad0o, zemmie, Lila Weyland, SlightlyOuttaFocus, Lorddarkrai.
SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION WARNING!
One last note. If you would like to contribute to my late-night coffee fund (which was significantly depleted over the last month), I would consider you a true comrade. I have a Ko-Fi account set up here for donations.
Also, if you would like to be notified when I start a new fiction, you can follow my author page on Royal Road here.
Thank you so much, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.
-TN
18 May, 2024