Strife, Life [Rewrite] | Aaron Chen
Prologue
'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's been for the last three months.
Chapter 1
"Man… how much longer can I keep this up?" Yoshiro thought to himself as he stared at the lifeless ball of cabbage in his hands.
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. Day in, day out, the same monotonous routine. Even the annual summer festivals [matsuri] that he longed for had come and gone. It was a constant reminder of how much time had passed.
"Otsukaresama desu."A stout greying man in a blue corporate apron said, as he clasped his hands together and bowed.
"Otsukaresama desu." Yoshiro reciprocated the polite bow.
"It's that time already, huh?" The man's bright teeth gleamed yellow from decades of tobacco use. "Heading home? It's a nice day today."
"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…"
"Can't or won't?" The man insisted, 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 past 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.
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. Excuse me ma'am, have we met?"
Silently, she continued to stand lifelessly, like a clothed mannequin on display. However, there was something different. Subtly, her lips had changed shape. The girl was suddenly smiling.
"It's been a long time, Yoshiro."
Chapter 2
In an instant, the girl brought down her dark shades. 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?" For the first time, he was able to analyze her appearance in full. 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 a radiant beauty who seemingly had the world as her oyster.
"Is that really you? Why—what are you doing here?"
"What does it look like? I'm a customer. Come on, entertain me for a bit, would you?"
All of it had seemed so surreal. It was the end of senior year in high school. The intense pressure from the climactic university exams had finally concluded. As soon as news broke wind on the school intercom, everyone rushed to the courtyard campus to view` the results tacked on posters for public display. For Yoshiro, it was a dreadful moment of anxiety. Unlike those around him, he was never exactly a model student to begin with.
Within moments, Akari discovered her name on one of the lists. She was accepted to the University of Tokyo, arguably the most prestigious college in the country. Groups and groups of students swarmed around and threw her up in the air to celebrate her newfound success. While Yoshiro was certainly happy, he couldn't help but wonder about his own fate.
Wading his way through the crowd, his heart sank. None of his names appeared on any of the lists. That was, until he reached the very, very final poster. While not as esteemed as University of Tokyo, he was officially accepted to Waseda University, one of the best universities in Japan and thus envy of many.
"See?" She elbowed him in the ribs. "I knew you could do it."
Truly, it was a monumental achievement. And what was a better way to celebrate school than to ditch it? It was mutually decided that they would play hooky for a few days to blow off some steam. Little did he realize, it would be Akari's last appearance on campus.
As days mounted into weeks, Yoshiro eventually caught on. Akari had gone missing. What was once a moment of calm had suddenly spiraled into despair and uncertainty. He began asking his classmates and teachers, but nobody knew of her whereabouts. "She's probably on vacation," a teacher reassured him. "Maybe she moved," said another. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. Realizing that nothing was going to be done, he began putting up missing posters in nearby subway stations and shopping malls. Any little hole-in-the-wall that would have attracted even the slightest attention. But it was all in vain. As graduation neared, everyone was so excited and pumped up that the incident was long buried away and became nothing more than a faded memory.
As much as Yoshiro wanted to lash out for the hell she had put him through, he held back. Something had changed. It was, for a lack of better words, experience. Through this three-month tenure working part-time in customer service, he had learned a little something about tolerance.
He lowered his eyes slightly. "You're right, you're …"
"Look—I know what you're thinking." She unfolded her arms and spoke in a more serious tone. "I'm probably the last person you'd expect to see, but please. Let me make things right. When are you off work today?"
He threw a quick glance against the analog clock on the wall. "Noon, I'm almost done for the day, but why?"
"Perfect. Then you wouldn't mind letting me buy you lunch today then, right?" She smiled.
He tried to maintain his composure, as if he didn't want to forgive her so easily, but her presence alone had overwhelmed him with joy. Secretly, his heart was pounding like a kettledrum. He couldn't remember the last time he went out to eat with anyone, let alone his best friend. Despite the throngs of people crowding the streets of Tokyo day and night, it was difficult to connect with anyone beyond being acquaintances.
"You sure?" He asked, unaware his cheeks were blushing hot red.
"Of course, it's the least I could do. After all, what kind of reunion would this be, right? Here." She swung forward her lavishly designed purse and handed him two thick slips of paper. "Meet me there today. There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
Both white and immaculate, the items she handed to him were business cards. The one on top was decorated with a small imprint of calligraphic writing, with a short haiku boasting about a restaurant's renowned dish, tsukumen. The card beneath below was considerably different, it was much simpler and did not rely on elegance. Printed in plain black ink, it simply spelled out:
The White Swan
住吉 あかり| Sumiyoshi Akari
Webmaster/Administrator
.jp |
…
Before long, it was already a quarter till noon. With little time to lose, Yoshiro said his goodbyes to the kachō and biked to the agreed rendezvous, a small ramen shop nestled in the outskirts of Asakusa.
Through the blue noren was a wooden house that reeked of spring onions and fish broth. Two operators ran the joint, an owner and his apprentice. As far as any patrons were concerned, you had to be seated in a table packed full of strangers if you wished to dine here. Still recovering from the fatiguing heat, Yoshiro treaded through an alley of high stools when a familiar face called out to him.
"Hey! Nice work, you made it!"
He seated himself and whispered, "Sorry, I got here as fast as I could. How long were you waiting?"
"Don't worry, I'm not in any rush or anything." Akari noticed the layer of sweat running across his forehead. "Did you want something to drink? It's pretty hot today."
"Maybe some water?"
Right away, she poured a glass of icy water from one of the pitchers. "Thanks for coming Yoshiro. I figured it'd be easier to talk here."
He downed the drink and looked up to the string of red lanterns above, hanging against the cozy, dim ambiance, before refocusing his eyes on her. "Does that mean you're going to tell me where you've been?"
"Same old Yoshiro, huh?" She chuckled softly, throwing a quick glance into his eyes, then away again. "You're right. I owe you that much. The truth is, I've been away, studying abroad in the states."
"But why? You were accepted to the University of Tokyo, of all schools. Do you know what people would give just to be in your shoes?"
She glanced at his glass of water, now half-drunken. "That's them, not me. I've seen what happens to people who attend schools of that caliber. The expectations. It quickly burns them out and robs them of their passion."
There was a long pause. Inside, Yoshiro was hurt and somewhat enraged, but as he reflected on the situation, he slowly realized, perhaps there was a grain of truth in her words after all. Despite having sacrificed everything to maintain his status as a member of an elite school, he was in no better social standing than anyone else. "Maybe you're right, maybe then, I wouldn't be working at a konbini."
Akari's eyes bulged with concern. "That's right. What happened? You were attending Waseda, weren't you?"
And so, he explained to her the illness had befallen his mother and how he had to drop out to make ends meet.
"Now I get it. If I were put in that position, I would've done the same. Family always comes first. Inagawa-san was always like a mother to me."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Sometimes, I wish I was doing something better, you know? It's not like I hate the kachō or anything. But it's not like everyone is blessed with business opportunities."
Akari folded her arms together and stared down at her cup of milk tea, barely touched and teeming with cream. "Say. If I had a project for you, would you be interested?"
"Project?" He was thoroughly confused.
"Yes. I run an online business for a small clientele. Didn't have a chance to look at the business card I gave you earlier, did you?" Yoshiro shook his head. "That's fine, but before you get too excited now, this job isn't much different than your current one."
Yoshiro pondered a moment. It was necessary to hear her out. He could always say no. If he had flat out declined, there would always be a tinge of regret gnawing away at him. And so, he nodded and said, "I understand."
"Basically, I'm looking for someone to help deliver packages. Think of it as a private courier service."
His voice perked up with curiosity. "Package delivery? Well, how heavy are the boxes?"
"Around the weight of a small backpack. But that's beside the point. The real challenge is that our clients are different and change every day, region to region. You see where I'm going with this?"
He understood right away. "You're saying I would need to travel, depending on where the package is going."
"That's right." She said, stirring up her cooling milk tea with a spoon.
"How far are we talking about?" He looked at her, curiously.
"Usually within Tokyo or Chiba, but deliveries to Osaka and Nagoya aren't unheard of." Yoshiro continued to ponder and downed the rest of his water. "It can be pretty demanding at times, but there's good news too. All travelling expenses are covered so for longer trips, I can give you a shinkansen pass to get you where you need to be."
Yoshiro began thinking about Mother. Given the job's unpredictably, he wasn't sure if he would be able to look after her anymore. While she was currently in a stable condition, he couldn't bear the thought of losing the person that meant the most to him in this world. And so, he asked in the most serious tone, "So why me though? Surely, there should be armies of people begging for something like this?"
At that moment, Akari shoved her cup of milk tea aside and clasped her hands together against his. "I need someone I can trust." Like a battle-hardened veteran, she continued, "It's not easy to find someone you can trust. I've seen it in your eyes. The way you care for your mother, that undying loyalty. You would do anything for her, wouldn't you? That is why your help."
Conflicted with emotions, Yoshiro was unsure on how to proceed. It wasn't a light decision that he could make on a whim. And so, he stared her intently and eventually spread her hands aside. "Could you give me a few days to think it over?"
He had fully expected her to chew him out and give him an earful of it, but to his surprise, it didn't happen. In a calm and sincere demeanor, she bowed and smiled. "Of course Yoshiro. I'm just glad you're giving it some thought. Now let's put all of this business behind us. We're here today to celebrate a reunion." As she motioned for the chef to come and fill their orders, both of them exchanged swift glances of acknowledgement with each other.
Appendix – Chapter 1
Tsukumen are cold Japanese dipping noodles
Asakusa is a district in Taitō, Tokyo, Japan.
Noren are traditional Japanese split curtains, often used at the entrance in restaurants or shops, to protect against sun, wind, and dust.
Shinkansen is Japan's bullet train system.
Appendix – Chapter 2
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.
Footnote: Waseda University is a very prestigious public university located in Tokyo. By nature, public universities are held in higher esteem than private ones.
Footnote: Roughly translates to "thank you for your hard work" in Japanese.
Footnote: Translates to "manager" in Japanese.
Footnote: Roughly translates to "welcome (to the store)" in Japanese.