June 9th, 2019: Sunday

"What are you dragging me out here for, Kurusu?" Tanimura moaned as they walked through down Central Street in Shibuya. He was giving of the body language of a typical delinquent, hunched posture, slouched shoulder, and a mean glare that could rattle men to the bone.

Akira had long gotten used to his friend's rough exterior. Despite their acrimonious reunion some years ago, they had somehow bonded through his few months back in his hometown. It was to the point that he inspired him to finally leave Meguro once their mutual friend Hideaki graduated and left on his own.

While Tanimura was genuinely a rough individual, there was a slightly softer and unfailingly loyal side to him that not a lot of people saw. He turned over a new leaf and personally apologized to every person he had beaten up, prostrating himself before them. Not all of them forgave him, but he wasn't expecting them to.

Not only that, but he desperately wanted to become a writer. It was something he truly enjoyed. At the moment, he was trying hard to get the book, Dark Rising, published from a real publisher. Akira was flabbergasted when he learned that Tanimura loved to write fantasy of all things.

But trying to get something published wasn't the same as getting it published, so he needed a job.

"You need money, right?" Akira asked over his shoulder, turning the corner into an alleyway. "I know of someone who'll hire you on my word alone."

Tanimura snorted out a laugh. "What, because the great Akira Kurusu has such a way with words?"

"Well, that," he agreed, "and I used to work here. I was one of his favorite employees."

"It's like you're everyone's favorite employee," Tanimura grumbled.

"To be fair, I was his only employee."

They made a right turn and stopped in front of an air soft shop called Untouchable. Tanimura glared at the sign before shooting Akira a glance. "You got some shady connections."

"It's a perfectly legit business," Akira argued, opening the door and gesturing him to follow.

He rolled his eyes, but fell into step, nonetheless.

Munehisa Iwai was seated at the counter with his legs up and his nose buried in a gun magazine. He looked up from his reading material and level an impassive stare upon Akira and Tanimura.

Tanimura seemed to backpedal at the look, but Akira was used to it.

"Iwai," he greeted. "It's been a while."

Iwai grunted and looked back down at his magazine. "Coming back to work, or are you just dropping by?"

"Actually, I have a different proposition for you," Akira said. "This is Tanimura. He needs a job and I think he'd go good here."

Iwai shook his head. "Sorry, not interested."

Tanimura snapped out of his daze and glared at the shop owner. "What? What'dya mean you ain't interested?"

Iwai lowered the magazine and glared at him, but he didn't back down this time. "I don't need some punk messing up my store. I got a business to run. You're bad for business."

"Mess up your—" Tanimura looked around and saw a general sense of disorganization. "How the hell can I mess up your store more than you already have?!"

The magazine was slammed on to the counter as Iwai stood to his full height. "You want to say that to me again, punk?"

"I mean, look at this place! Have you even heard of a fucking shelving system! I see automatics and pistols next to each other, not to mention a shotgun just hanging out with a damn grenade launcher! And the dust?! Do you ever go over this place with a duster?!"

Iwai crossed his arms and threw his chin up, looking down on him. "Oh, yeah? What're you planning on doing about it?"

Tanimura walked up to him and got into his face. "I'm going to clean the shit out of this place, that's what!" He looked around. "Where's your damn cleaning supplies?! And a broom! The floors're probably fucking filthy too!"

Iwai pointed behind him. "There's a closet in the back. Broom, duster, window cleaner. Have at it."

"Damn right, I will!" Tanimura walked behind the counter and into he backroom, muttering and cursing as he searched for the necessary tools.

As soon as he was gone, the corner of Iwai's lips ticked upward into a grin.

Akira gave him a knowing look. "You wanted that to happen, didn't you?"

"Of course," Iwai said, sitting back down and picking up the magazine. "Wanted to see if he'd back down when pushed. He didn't."

Akira nodded and rubbed his chin. "Why didn't you do the same for me?"

"Kid, you confronted an ex-Yakuza about a gun he gave you to hide from the police." Iwai bared his teeth into a wolfish grin. "If that don't take balls, I don't know what does."

In the back Tanimura yelled, "What is with this damn closet, old man?! When was the last time you went to buy supplies, 2009?!"

"I think he'll do just fine," Iwai said, leaning back. "I'll tell Kaoru you said hi. He misses you."

"I'll have to stop by and see him one of these days," Akira said. He turned to the door and threw a wave behind him. "Good luck with the new employee, Iwai."

He grunted in acknowledgement as he poured over the magazine. Tanimura's complaints and condemnations rang out until the night, where Iwai paid him, told him to report to work tomorrow, and sent him on his way.