Suisei Metropolitan High School was a school in Tokyo's Shibuya district for elite students. It took pride in its alumni's high rate of
enrollment in top colleges. The curriculum was strict, but students were
allowed to take part-time jobs if they kept up their grades, and that
flexibility was what had appealed to me when I'd chosen a school.
Talk about a strange twist of fate. My dad remarried, and I wound up
with a stepsister who was not only my age but also went to my school. At
least she wasn't in my class. That would have been truly awkward.
I looked at Ayase to gauge her reaction and saw her narrowing her eyes
beneath her feathery bangs. She appeared to be thinking.
"So you go to Suisei, too…," she said. "I see…"
"…I'm sorry. Dad should have checked beforehand."
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. Mom didn't check, either."
"But it'll be awkward. I'll just pretend I don't know you when we're at
school."
"Huh? No, that's okay. Though, maybe you'll be more comfortable
that way."
"What do you mean by—?"
I swallowed the rest of my sentence when my phone suddenly started
vibrating. I pulled it out and checked the screen, which said simply, Work.
"Go ahead and take the call. I'm not interested in tying you down, and
it doesn't bug me if you talk on the phone in front of me."
"We really do think alike," I said, meaning it from the bottom of my
heart.
I tapped the TALK button as I left Ayase's room. A call at this hour
probably meant they wanted me to fill in for someone who couldn't work
their shift. It turned out exactly as I'd thought, and though I was annoyed, I
agreed to help out. I was a real yes-man.
I finished my call and went back to Ayase's room, where she was still
unpacking. I saw her turn to me, looking bored.
"What did they want?" she asked.
"They want me to fill in for someone at work. Sorry, I won't be able to
help you anymore."
"That's okay. It's my job anyway."
Ayase wasn't the least bit bothered by the sudden change in plans. She
took it in stride, like this was all business as usual.
A beautiful girl my age, with a flashy, rebellious appearance. From my
point of view, she had all the elements of a ticking time bomb—exactly
what I didn't want. But because of her mature attitude, I was able to talk with her with minimal anxiety.
"Okay, then," I said. "I'm off."
"See you."
Her tone was matter-of-fact, and she went right back to work. She was
nothing like what you might expect from a younger sister. But she was the
most comforting type of person I could have asked for as a new member of
my family, and I left the room relieved.
I was at a large bookstore near Shibuya Station.
It was located just past Shibuya Crossing outside the Hachiko exit,
which was always full of tourists and YouTubers shooting videos with
tripods and selfie sticks.
Looking up at the large display screen blasting commercials about
smartphone games at maximum volume, I parked my bicycle and walked
into the eight-floor building where I worked.
My part-time job was here at this bookstore.
I'd always been a bookworm and devoured everything from children's
books to foreign literature, even mysteries and fantasies, until they lost all
their flavor. I don't read; I devour. That's the best way to put it. And the
bookstore where I work, filled with the fresh paper smell of newly printed
books, was pure heaven.
Books are great. They allow us a peek into all sorts of other people's
lives. Normally, the only life that I, Yuuta Asamura, could experience
would be the boring, average day-to-day of a regular guy. But when I read,
I could share in the lives of countless other people.
I'm not just talking about fiction. Autobiographies are the same way,
and so are books about business. Through books, you can download all
sorts of people into your mind.
Books about tunnel vision, for instance. Or careless negligence. Or the
type of narcissism that makes you want to cover your face in discomfort.
Maybe it's because I've read so many books that I've become able to
think metacognitively and look at myself from an objective point of view
so I don't end up embarrassing myself with issues like that.
An adult male brain weighs about fourteen hundred grams.
When I think about that, I feel scared to live my life based only on the
"common sense" of such a tiny, closed space and the decisions it makes.
If I didn't read, I wondered, would I have ended up like the people in
those books?
It was now eight PM.
I'd come to help around six, and two hours had passed. I'd been
dealing with customers and working the cash register during the busiest
time for the weekend.
The number of people in the store was finally dwindling, and I was
folding book covers at the register hoping for a little breather, when a
particular scene caught my attention.
"Damn, lady, you are seriously my type. This has to be love at first
sight."
"Are you looking for a particular book?"
"Huh? Man, you're too cute. How about dinner after you finish work?
What time do you get off?"
"As they say, take a hike."
"God, I have no idea what you're saying, but you're so funny!"
The guy bothering the female clerk was one of those noisy partygoer
types. She was snubbing him, but he wasn't getting it. You often came
across interactions like this in Shibuya, though it was rare to witness so
persistent a pickup attempt aimed at a bookstore employee right in her
place of work.
The victim was the picture of a delicate Japanese beauty with
impressive long black hair. She was a neat, lovely girl who was clearly
into literature—the total opposite of a flirt. She was like a flower,
spreading a gentle aroma into the air around her.
Despite the rude, flippant behavior of the guy trying to hit on her, she
maintained a graceful, businesslike smile, though her eyes were cold.
I don't want any trouble, but…
I picked up a random binder and a list and proceeded to the source of
the commotion.
"Uh, Yomiuri," I said, addressing the woman. "There's something I
want to ask you."
"Oh, okay!" she replied "What do you need?"
"Our new shipment list doesn't look right, but I don't know how to
compare it to the information on the computer."
"…! Okay, I'll take a look right away."
"Wha—? Hey, wait a sec!" the guy called out.
Aware of what I was doing, the female clerk tried to escape, but the
man panicked and reached out to grab her. His rough hands moved for her
delicate wrists, but I casually blocked his fingertips with the binder.
"Do you need something else from my girlfriend?" I asked.
"Huh?" the man said, confused.
Of course, she and I weren't in a relationship or anything. This was just
a lie to get through the situation.
The man's mouth hung open, and he froze for a moment; then he
clapped his hands and bowed low.
"Oh, geez, sorry, I didn't realize…! Right, of course! A pretty girl like
her couldn't possibly be single."
"What? Oh, um, right."
He'd taken me by surprise.
In the world of fiction, guys like him usually got furious and threw a
punch at you, but I guess things were different in real life.
Or maybe it was just him.
"Hey, take good care of her, mister. Best wishes!"
He even went so far as to give us his blessings, struck a cliché pose
typical of guys like him, and left the store.
With the noisy customer gone, it was quiet once again. I suddenly
became aware of the other customers eyeing me and quickly returned to
the register, head low as I tried to hide the blush that had spread to my
ears.
"Thanks, Yuuta," said Yomiuri. "You saved the day. But that flirt… If
he was going to give up that easily, he should have backed off when I
snubbed him… Don't you agree, boyfriend?"
"Stop that."
"We were an item for only one minute—not even a one-night stand!
Boo-hoo."
Yomiuri's business smile disappeared when she returned to the
register. She stuck out her tongue and chuckled devilishly. Then she pulled
her name tag out from a pocket and attached it to the right side of her
uniform.
"Aren't we supposed to keep our name tags on during our shift…?"
"We have to be flexible."
Yomiuri touched her delicate index finger to her lips, indicating that I
should keep this our secret.
"Rules exist so an organization can function smoothly," she said. "But
it'll be even worse if a guy like that finds out my name and keeps coming
back like a pain in the ass."
"That's true."