Strife, Life [Rewrite] | Aaron Y.
Prologue/Chapter 1: Konbini
"Loneliness is thought to have multiple dimensions."
Having reached adulthood at the age of twenty, life hasn't been without its struggles for Inagawa Yoshiro. His breadwinner mother had recently suffered a stroke, prompting him to abandon a fully-funded scholarship at a prestigious university to make ends meet. With no formal college degree under his belt, life in Tokyo was rough. Even finding entry-level positions at times felt like winning the lottery. Failure after failure, he eventually lost heart and settled for part-time work at his local konbini, where he has been working for in the last three months.
Footnote: In Japanese, the last name or family name generally precedes first name.
Footnote: Synonym for convenience store that is open long hours and that typically sells staple groceries, snacks, and beverages.
The analog clock on the wall struck noon while he stared at the green ball of cabbage in his hands.
"Man… how much longer can I keep this up?"
Three months had passed since he took a leave of absence from Waseda University in Tokyo. While he was able to steal away a temporary reprieve from academics, the humid August weather was beginning to taking its toll. Autumn was just right around the corner. It felt like so much time had passed already.
Footnote: Waseda University is a very prestigious public university located in Tokyo.
"Otsukaresama desu."A gallant, greying man in a blue corporate apron bowed to him.
Footnote: Roughly translates to "thank you for your hard work" in Japanese.
"Otsukaresama desu." Yoshiro reciprocated the bow.
"Wow, it's that time already, huh? Heading home?"
"Yep, it looks like the perfect weather to whip up some porridge."
"Ah." The old man's voice resonated with joy. "Wait just a moment, I have something for you."
"Oh, kachō, no, I can't…"
Footnote: Translates to "manager" in Japanese.
"Can't or won't?" The man smiled, as he hoisted up a hefty plastic bag that reeked of freshly butchered meat.
While the job was menial and the pay meager, Yoshiro took comfort in the store manager's sincerity. After all, his honesty was how he was hired for the job in the first place. Even though Yoshiro wasn't the type to accept gifts so liberally, he realized it would have been futile to play Hot Potato with his superior.
….
Thatched in rusty metal sheets and rotting brown wood, he shortly arrived home. There, he noticed an obscured shadow moving against the green field in his backyard.
"You're home early today."
It was Mother, a petite woman in her early forties whose pale face and long dark hair was guarded by a voluminous straw hat. From afar, she appeared at least a decade younger, but up close and in person, the fine lines on her forehead and wrinkles next to her eyes suggested a much different story.
"Look what I brought home!" Yoshiro announced happily.
"Mmm…" She eyed the mahogany-colored bag of chicken liver dangling in his hands. "That would make a pretty decent fertilizer you know."
"What? No!" He clutched the bag tightly towards his chest, afraid of Mother's actions.
"I'm just kidding. I take it that this was a gift from the store manager today?"
"Yes. He knows how hard everything's been for you and everything."
She nodded. "Did you remember to say thanks?"
"Well, sort of."
"It's always important to say thanks Yoshiro, it lets people know that you care."
"Alright fine, you're right, I'll be more direct next time. Anyways, aren't you going to tell me about your pet project out here?"
"It is rather nice, isn't it?" She snuck in a smile between her words.
He looked out to the small garden behind them, abundantly filled with fruits and flowers, from peaches, grapes, sunflowers, and anything in between. It was a rare sight in suburban Japan, let alone Tokyo, but even before Mother was hospitalized, she had always been a conservationist at heart.
"I know it isn't much." She continued. "But it's yours as much as it's mine. You did your fair share taking care of them when I wasn't around. I want you to know that."
…
With harvest season just around the corner, it often felt like a race against the clock. Before long, it was dawn once more, and thus, another day at the konbini. However, something was unusual about this morning—the manager was missing. Usually, he would be at the front counter boiling hot tofu and corn dogs to serve to the customers. As Yoshiro walked to the stockroom to prepare for his shift, he could make out a vague message that was muttered.
"Just give me a couple more days… Please, that's all I need…"
He couldn't see him, but he knew that was the manager's voice, distraught and shaken up, almost as if he was talking to someone on the other end of his cell phone. Perhaps if he waited a bit longer and walked in calmly, the manager would've been none the wiser on his unintentional eavesdropping. But he couldn't and the situation quickly ate away at him, why did he have to act so sneaky as if he had committed a crime of some sort?
"Inagawa-san!"
"Morningkachō!" There was a slight pause in Yoshiro's response. "T—thanks again for the chicken liver yesterday. Mother and I really enjoyed it!"
"No need to say thanks, it was just chicken liver—nothing extraordinary, really. Speaking of which, how is she doing now?"
"Good, very good actually. She's still home right now, but I don't think it would be more than a few more weeks until she would be out in the city again. And besides, you know the type of person Mother is. She isn't the type that likes to sit around idly."
"Good. I'm just glad she's feeling better. Anyways." The manager's voice abruptly turned stern. "I don't mean to put you on the spot, but I need your help with something this morning."
"Yeah, of course, what's going on?" Yoshiro inquired, trying to hide the uneasiness in his voice.
"Could you please take care of the cash register this morning?"
"Are you sure? I don't mind, but—"
"Yeah, it's just for today. There's something I urgent I need to take care of today. Please..."
There it was again, that please. "No, no, no, it's not a problem at all, really. It's just that I'm usually in the back restocking the shelves, that's all."
"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you later."
"No, it's okay, really. You've already helped us so much. Please, just do what you got to do. I'll take care of the register."
"Thank you, I'll be in the back if you need anything."
…
For the most part, it was a slow and unfulfilling three hours. The stream of customers was to be expected, mostly salarymen in dark suits looking to grab a few smokes before hopping on the next train. One after another, seldom was one interested in small talk. Yoshiro couldn't help but drum up ideas of what may have happened to manager. He wanted to help but wasn't sure if he was overstepping his boundaries. Perhaps he was overthinking the situation and there was nothing to really worry about.
Fortunately, break time was just right around the corner and there was only a single customer left. But as far as appearances went, this one didn't fit the bill of your typical middle-aged salaryman. Quite the opposite actually. The last customer was a young girl that was identical to him in age.
She was lanky and fair, with silky auburn hair that draped all the way to her shoulders, sporting a peach-colored t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, with her visage masked behind a set of designer shades. Perhaps, it was the raging hormones of a twenty-year-old, but something about her vibrant clothing spoke out to him. Seeing nothing but dull dark suits for the morning, he was quickly enchanted by her beauty, but even more so for her air of mystery.
"I-irasshaimase." He nervously greeted her.
Footnote: Roughly translates to "welcome (to the store)" in Japanese.
The girl headed to the back aisles where cold drinks and premade meals were usually stored, outside his cone of vision.
"What's a person like this doing here?" He thought to himself.
Within moments, she reappeared and marched up to the counter and in her hands, a misty bottle of water.
"That'll be 177 yen please."
Nonchalantly, she whipped around her leather purse and extracted one of many crisp 10,000-yen notes from her wallet.
"Here is your change – 9,843 yen. Did you need a bag with that?"
"Not a bag, no… but there is something else you can help me with."
"Sure, what do you need?"
"You are Inagawa Yoshiro, are you not?"
It was the very first time that anyone had even paid the slightest attention to the name tag stitched to his uniform. As if shots of dopamine were suddenly released into his brain, propelling him into a realm of ecstasy, like the plunge of a roller coaster as it dropped from an enormous height in free fall. Having lived such a dull and despondent life, he had lost himself to the routine and forgotten what excitement felt like.
"I'm sorry? Oh, uh—yes, yes, that's me!" He exclaimed erratically, still going through the rush of emotions.
Silently, she continued to stand lifelessly, like an upright mannequin with no movement. However, there was something different. Subtly, her lips had changed shape. The girl was suddenly smiling.
"Long time no see, Yoshiro."
Chapter 2: Reunion
In an instant, the girl brought down her sunglasses. They were only distant memories now, but as he gazed into her eyes, he had recognized them from long before—wide, brown, and still gleaming with a sense of rebelliousness.
"A-ka-ri?" He uttered each syllable skeptically in hopes that he was not speaking to the wrong person before delivering her name in full. "Sumiyoshi Akari?"
"Well." She smiled derisively. "Did you miss me?"
Her appearance had changed drastically. Nowhere to be seen was the short haired, effeminate tomboy who once shared a mutual interest in psychology. In a matter of three years, she had transformed into this radiant beauty who seemingly had the world as her oyster.
"I can't believe it, what are you doing here?"
"What does it look like? I'm a customer." She retorted. "Come on, entertain me for a bit, will you?"
"All this time, you could've dropped a line or something, you know. I—I don't even know what to say."
She seemed to frown slightly, given his reaction. "Not everything works out the way you want them to."
"You could've just texted me or something. It's like you disappeared off the face of the earth."
"Look—how about this? When do you usually get off work?"
"Noon. I only work part-time."
"How about lunch today then, hm? My treat."
He tried to maintain his composure, as if he didn't want to forgive her so easily, but deep down, he was overwhelmed with joy. It had been nearly a year since he had eaten out with anyone. Despite the throngs of people crowding the streets of Tokyo day and night, it felt more isolating than ever.
it was difficult to connect with anyone..
"That… sounds like a great idea actually." He attempted to say with a straight face, his cheeks blushing hot red. "Thank you."
He began to light up
"It's probably the least I could do. After all, what kind of reunion would this be, right? So what are you in the mood for?"
"Oh!" He declared with enthusiasm. "How about tsukumen? There's a pretty good place around here. The way the chef prepares the cold noodles and broth is absolutely something to die for!"
Footnote: Dipping noodles
"Sure, just text me the address."
"Yeah, it's—oh, but I don't have your—" Before he could finish his sentence, she lifted a white rectangular card from her brown purse.
"You're giving me your business card?"
"Trust me, it'll come in handy. So, I'll see you around noon?"
He nodded in acceptance. "Yeah, I'll meet you there."
"Thanks." She smiled again. This time, however, it didn't seem to be derisive, but rather, one of sincerity. "It was good seeing you again Yoshiro. Really."
Despite her garish appearance, she was still very much the same person at heart. Even after all this time, they were still good friends. But as he attempted to process all these conflicting emotions, he had realized she had already departed, as quickly as she came, leaving behind the only clue into her personal life:
The White Swan
住吉 あかり| Sumiyoshi Akari
Webmaster/Administrator
.jp |
…
Before long, it was a quarter till noon. With no time to lose, Yoshiro had skipped his break, informed the store manager of the situation, and biked to the agreed rendezvous, a small ramen shop nestled in the outskirts of Asakusa. Through the blue noren was a single row of wooden stools that could fit no more than eight people and an open steamy kitchen that reeked of spring onions and fish broth. Among the people there was the head chef and of course, Akari, who appeared to be monitoring something on her smartphone.
Footnote: Asakusa is a district in Taitō, Tokyo, Japan.
Footnote: Noren are traditional Japanese split curtains, often used at the entrance in restaurants or shops, to protect against sun, wind, and dust.
"Sorry, I got here as fast as I could." Yoshiro said, with beads of sweat on his forehead. "How long were you waiting?"
"No, it's fine. Don't worry, I just got here too." She pocketed her phone away.
"I see our young couple has arrived." The chef came forth, a gregarious man in his early thirties with wildly unkempt blonde hair and a 'since 2008' embroidery stitched on his white apron. "What can I get for the both of you?"
"We're not—tsukumen for me please. Thank you."
"And you, miss?"
"Tsukumen, that's what you recommend, right?" Akari looked back towards Yoshiro.
Yoshiro nodded in affirmation.
"Tsukumen for me too please."
"You got it." He pumped his right fist in the air. "Two tsukumen coming right up."
As the chef scuttled away to prepare their orders, the two looked up to the string of red lanterns above them, hanging against the cozy, dim ambiance. Naturally, there was tension in the air.
"Well, thanks for coming." She eventually broke the silence. "I figured it'd be easier to talk here."
"It's great, isn't it? I don't come here very often, but when I do, it just feels just so relaxing. Like I can get away from the city life for a moment. How about you—do you like it here?"
"Yeah, it's nice. It's been a long time since I've been to these places too. I kind of miss the food and atmosphere. Like how everything's made fresh and right before your eyes."
"Say, I've been meaning to ask." He hesitated slightly. "Where have you been all this time?"
"Same old Yoshiro, huh?" She chuckled softly, throwing a quick glance into his eyes, then quickly away again. "The truth is, I've been overseas studying English."
"Where? America? Don't they have phones and email there?"
"They do, they do, but sometimes, you get caught up in the moment and forget about everything else. Besides, I figured you were busy with school too."
"Well, I was." He sighed. "Until Mother suffered a stroke recently."
"That's terrible. How is she now?"
"Surprisingly well actually. She spends most of her time in the backyard now, growing her own garden."
"Oh, that's right, I remember now. She always loved flowers, didn't she?"
Yoshiro nodded in agreement, trying to hold back the stammering in his voice if he had spoken.
"Now I see. Is that why you're working at that konbini? You're doing this for your mother."
"Sometimes, I wish I was just doing something better, you know? It's not like I hate the manager or anything."
"Hm." She appeared to be deep in thought. "So, say I had a special project for you, would you be interested?"
"Project…?"
"I run an online business for a small clientele. I guess you didn't have a chance to look at the business card I gave you earlier."
"Sorry, it's been a busy day."
"No, it's okay. It's not like this sort of stuff happens every day. Anyways, the special project—before you get too excited, I must confess, it isn't that much different from your current job. What we need is, basically someone to help us deliver packages. Think of it as a courier service."
"Package delivery, huh? How heavy are the boxes?"
"Well… they're not really boxes, but they aren't more than five kilos. Usually, much lighter depending on the need of the client. But that's beside the point. The real challenge at hand is that our clients change every day. You see where I'm going with this?"
"In other words, I'd have to travel every day, depending on where the package is going?"
"That's right."
"Hm, how far are we talking about?"
"It really depends. Usually they go to city people in Tokyo or Nagoya and Osaka, but sometimes, all the way to Hokkaido or Fukuoka."
"Wow, that's pretty far."
"Yeah, it can be pretty demanding at times, but here's the good news—all travelling expenses will be covered. Usually the shinkansen (bullet train) or the local subway should get you to where you need to be."
Footnote: Shinkansen, Japan's bullet train system
Distance from Tokyo to Osaka is 552 km (4 hours)
Distance from Tokyo to Hokkaido is 825 km (6 hours)
Distance from Tokyo to Fukuoka is 883 km (6 hours)
"Hm, I still think I should look after Mother every now and then."
"Well, here's a few more perks. You would earn more than a salaryman working full time and you would have the weekends free to yourself. You would also be able to travel places you normally couldn't. Trust me, this is a win-win."
"So why me though? Shouldn't there be armies of people fighting for this job? It seems very simple."
She frowned in disappointment. "I need someone I can trust Yoshiro. It's hard to find someone that you can trust. Like really, really trust. That's why I need your help."
The decision weighed heavily on him. He thought about how quickly his mother had been recovering. It probably wouldn't be long until she could look after herself. But what if something happened to her? He would never forgive himself if he was responsible for putting her in pain. At the same time, he contemplated, the part-time job had always been a temporary solution, like putting on a layer of bandage to cover up a fresh wound. And what if this didn't work? What if Akari was just manipulating him to satisfy her own means? Every night on television detailed a new scam
Pyramid schemes and fraud were reportedly at all-time high in Japan. Pyramid schemes and frauds were apparently all the rage on TV, every week detailing a new scam.
He stared intently into her eyes to confirm this wasn't just some cruel joke she was playing on him to arouse his emotions before and saying, "Can you give me a few days to think it over?"
He stared intently into her eyes looking for some sort of sign on how should proceed before he eventually came to the conclusion that it was pointless for him to make such a critical decision purely based on his gut feeling. He gave in and responded, "Can you give me a few days to think it over?"
"Of course Yoshiro. (she clasped her hands on top of his, seemingly to reassure him) I know it isn't easy. I'm just glad you're giving it some thought. Now let's finish our meals. We don't want to be rude to the chef."
scoffed
…
"Hey, you're home." Yoshiro's mother was apparently in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and watching an up and coming idol group on a modest television set. "Out with a friend today?"
"Yeah… How'd you know?"
"I am your mother, you've got to give me a bit more credit than that? I know your habits…?how could I not? How was it? Did you have a good time?"
"Uh…" He began scratching his head. "I guess. It gave me some things to think about."
She took another sip of the coffee, still frothy and piping hot. "Was this someone you met at the konbini?"
"I guess I'd have to tell you eventually anyways, right?"
She smiled gently and nodded.
"Do you remember Sumiyoshi Akari?"
"Oh!" She began tapping the table with her right index finger to jog her memory. "The one from high school. Really short black hair, tall and skinny?"
"Wow." He chuckled. "I'm surprised you still remember."
"How could I not? She was here every other week to help you prepare for the university entrance exams. Come to think of it, what ever did happen to that girl?"
Good question. Though he had been speaking to her for over an hour, he realized how foolish he was at that precise moment. He had not known his friend better than he had when she had abruptly disappeared three years ago. The only thing he learned was that she was working for a business called The White Swan. Everything else was still up in the air.
"At any rate." She continued. "I'm just glad you had fun. Sometimes, that's all that really matters."
"Mother." He uttered with hesitation. "How would you feel if I wanted to change jobs?"
"Why? Is the manager giving you a hard time?"
"No, no. It has nothing to do with him. I was just thinking. Maybe we could use some extra money."
"Hmm. What kind of job?"
"Well, I don't have all the details right now but from what was communicated to me, it's basically like a package delivery job."
Her eyes beamed up and down against his. "Is this something you really want to do?"
"Sort of. I was just thinking. We don't have much money saved up and I already have some experience in retail. Two birds with one stone, you know?"
"Hmm. Money is nice but at the end of the day, this is your life Yoshiro. The only person that can tell you how to live it is you. I understand the impulse to having a bit of spending money at your age so if you want to do this, I won't stop you."
"You don't think I should do it, do you?"
"I'm just saying that you should value what you have now. The manager treats you like family. That's not something that comes around so easily these days. Once you step into the corporate world, you might not like what you see."
…
It was a restless evening that was only exacerbated by the unforgiving summer heat. Even in the middle of the night, the oscillating stand fan in the room did little to provide relief. Yoshiro tossed back and forth in his hard bed, eyes dry and weary until the alarm on his night stand forced him to get up. It was time to head out for work again.
And just like before, he had arrived at the konbini without fail. This time around, something was different, as if there was now a different air about the store. Whether it was the upbeat J-pop tunes playing in the background or the neatly arranged aisles with pockets of prepackaged food and beverages here and there, he had remembered why he took the job in the first place.
He was only eight at the time, but he could remember it as clearly as yesterday. It had been a long and arid summer afternoon when he was returning home from school. Stomach empty and throat parched, he needed something to quench his thirst. Stopping by a local konbini, he had instinctively grabbed a cool soft drink from a refrigerator and immediately marched to the front counter. On the other end stood a stern man with glaring eyes and a fastened uniform.
Shaking loose the clump of his change in his shorts, he quickly discovered that he was short fifty yen. Stricken by panic and fear, tears began budding from his eyes while the cashier stared at him silently before momentarily responding.
"Don't worry kid, it happens to even the best of us. Here." The man pushed the drink back to him. "Go on."
Reflexively, Yoshiro bowed vehemently, over and over, overjoyed by the compassion he was shown. It didn't matter what else had happened that day, whether it was the sweltering heat or the absence of a father, he was suddenly able to bear it. Perhaps this was the beauty of nostalgia, it was bittersweet, reminding you when times were good and bad.
…
"Morning kachō!"
In one of the aisles near the stockroom, the manager was huddling against the hot drinks section.
"Inagawa-san."
"Did you need some help? Some of the shelves were empty and it's getting close to rush hour."
"Yeah, in the back, just… do whatever you can..." He replied blankly, eyes still locked onto the shelf of hot drinks in front of him.
"Okay, I'm on it. Wait a minute… you're not in uniform today?"
The manager took in a deep breath before exhaling harshly. In a somber, solemn voice, he announced: "There's something you should know."
"Are you alright, what is it kachō?"
There seemed to be a shameful expression written on his face before he turned to Yoshiro and stared directly into his eyes. "Today will be our last day working together. Starting tomorrow, the store will be closed. Permanently."