Contents
Title
Copyright
Initial Assessment
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Final analysis
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About the Author
Kage
The Torihada Files
Tara A. Devlin
Visit the author’s website at taraadevlin.com or kowabana.net
© 2018 Tara A. Devlin
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Illustrations thanks to Emiru the Yurei.
Initial Assessment
File: #5983
Date: November 3, 2018
Subject: Sato, Megu
Age: 23
Birthdate: February 3, 1995
Location: Shiraishi
Occupation: Convenience store clerk
Assessment: Subject was brought in for questioning regarding particular events that came to our attention during the months of September and October 2018. Subject was forthcoming with her answers and compliant with all requests. Ms Sato’s account of what she experienced is as follows.
Notes: Follow-up interview required at a later date.
1
A voice from the back room screaming my name filled me with dread.
“Sato! Sato, get your ass back here!”
I looked around to see if any customers were still in the store before opening the door. It creaked. I didn’t want to open it, and as I fought the urge to run, the creak alerted the boss to my presence.
“What the hell are you doing? Get over here.”
I bowed my head and closed the door behind me. The click was like a gun going off. The gun that was about to end my life.
“Yes, sir? Is there something wrong?”
The boss pointed at a pile of boxes. “What’s this?”
I didn’t want to shrug my shoulders and earn more of his scorn, so I wracked my brain for an answer. “Boxes, sir?”
“Boxes… boxes… I know they’re boxes!” His voice raised with his blood pressure. “Why are they here?”
“Because boxes are stored in the back room until they go on the shelves.” If there was something he was trying to tell me, it was going right over my head. He looked at me. He blinked a few times. He blinked a few more times and then rubbed his temples.
“How many customers are out there right now?” he said. I turned to grab the door handle and look outside. “You shouldn’t need to look! How many were in the store when you came in here?”
I tried to remember. There was perhaps one person looking at the drinks. Otherwise, the store was empty. “One, sir. I think.”
“You think?”
“I… think?”
He sighed. “Sato, how long have you been working here?”
“About half a year now… Maybe a bit longer. I don’t exactly remember, sir.”
“You don’t remember. Do you remember what to do with the boxes when the store is empty?
“Put the stock on the shelves?”
He smiled as though his cat had finally learnt to go in the litter and not on the couch. “That’s right, Sato. The stock goes on the shelves. If we just leave it in here without putting it out, the stock piles up and we have nothing to sell. You see the problem there, I’m sure?”
The bell above the front door tinkled. A customer had entered the store.
“I should go…”
“Yes. And when you’re done, get back here and start stocking some of these boxes, would you? What am I paying you for? There are plenty of high school kids looking for work, you know? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work in a convenience store.”
I nodded again, unsure of what to say. I mumbled “sorry” and closed the door behind me. A tall man with a briefcase was loading a cart full of alcohol and health drinks. He grabbed a few rice balls and packets of chips and dropped the cart on the counter.
“Three packs of Happy 7.”
The brand was muffled by the beeps of his items as I rang them through.
“I’m sorry, packs of what?”
“Happy 7.”
I turned to grab a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter and scanned them with the rest of his items.
“Are you dumb? I said three. Three packs! My god.”
My heart hammered in my chest. The boss was right; it wasn’t the hardest job in the world, yet there I was, struggling with even the most basic aspects of it.
“I’m terribly sorry.” I apologised, bowed my head, and added two more packs. The boss came over and stood behind me. I didn’t even know he was there.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir. She just started here this week. A pity hire, you know?” He leaned forward and whispered. “She’s not quite right in the head.”
The man’s face screwed up. He glanced at me and then back to the boss. “You’re a better man than I am. If I had to deal with that at work, I’d demand they quit or they’d be looking for a my replacement instead.”
The boss let out a chuckle and slapped me on the shoulder. I dropped the man’s coffee and scrambled to grab it before it fell over the edge.
“I like to do my bit for the community, you know! Not everyone is born as lucky as us, hey! We all have to do our bit.”
The man shrugged and pulled out his wallet. “Yeah, I guess. You might want to train this one a little more before you let her deal with the customers again though.”
‘This one.’ I was standing right there, and they were talking about me like I was invisible. ‘This one.’ I’ll show you who’s ‘this one’…
“Sato.” The voice sounded distant. “Sato!”
“What?”
“The man would like to pay for his goods now.” The boss was shifting his eyes between me and the customer.
“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry. That’ll be 3,545 yen, please.”
The man handed me a 10,000 yen note. The boss grabbed the change from me and counted it himself before handing it over. He bowed deeply as the man left the store without another word, pushing my head down to do the same. Once the tinkle of the doorbell stopped, he stood up straight and frowned at me.
“I won’t cover for you like that again. If you don’t get it together, then you can start looking for another job.”
I bowed my head in apology. There was nothing I could say. Or rather, it didn’t matter what I said because he wouldn’t listen to me anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d treated me like trash in front of a customer, and it wouldn’t be the last time either. I was cheap labour to him
, and I knew it. Our store wasn’t in a busy part of town, and we usually just got kids on their way home from school, or businessmen on their way to and from work. The pay was awful and the hours long. Nobody wanted to work there, and we both knew it. I put up with him as much as he supposedly put up with me.
“You finish at 5 today, right?” The boss stuck his head around the door.
I nodded.
“Make sure all of these boxes are on the shelves before you leave. I’m not paying you overtime, so get it done.”
The door slammed and I sighed. I had a computer class after work—not that he cared. It was on the other side of town, and I was late more often than not because of overtime the boss forced me into—overtime he never paid me for. But what could I do? I had no other skills. Nobody would hire someone like me. I wasn’t even good at working a convenience store register. What else did I have going for me?
The clock above the register ticked. The afternoon rush of school kids started around 4:30 p.m. I had 20 minutes to unload 10 boxes of stock. Not impossible, but while dealing with other customers it would prove to be a challenge. I took a deep breath, went inside, and grabbed the first box of pastries.
I was halfway through the sixth box when the rush started. First, one high school boy came in for his usual rice ball and melon cream soda. I recognised him and smiled as cheerfully as I could under the circumstances. He bought the same thing every day. Never said anything. Never said hello, never said thank you, never said goodbye. Never even nodded or did anything to acknowledge that I was there. He’d plop his two items down on the counter, never once looking up from his phone, drop a few coins on the counter and then take whatever change was remaining. All without once taking his eyes off his screen. How he knew that I’d given him the correct change, I never knew. Perhaps he didn’t care. That must have been a nice feeling. Back at home, my electricity bill was sitting in the mail, big nasty red letters on it, waiting for me to notice it. Not today, I thought. Not today. I don’t get paid for a few more weeks yet. You don’t exist until then.
But then the rush followed almost immediately. A few girls laughing and joking about something hilarious that happened to a boy at school during lunch. A few boys in baseball uniforms loading up on as many snacks as their cart could handle. A few loners who were doing their best not to look at anyone and get out before anyone recognised them. One girl in particular reminded me of myself just a few years earlier. Head down, but ears on high alert. Doing her best to blend into the surroundings and avoid the judgement of her much cooler peers. As long as she didn’t make a fuss, they wouldn’t notice she was there and they would leave her alone. That was how I felt, anyway. Now I had to force smile after smile and pretend like the person in front of me was the most important thing in the world while they, at best, never noticed I was there, or at worst, treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe.
It was 6:20 p.m. by the time I finished stacking the shelves. Another hour of overtime I’d never see money for.
“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” I said. The boss didn’t turn around. He was typing something into the PC in the corner of the room. He didn’t even raise his hand. I bowed and closed the door. Computer class started at 6:30. If I took a taxi it would cost money and I’d still be late, but at least it wouldn’t be that late. I rifled through my bag to find my phone. A nice day old bento box was waiting to be microwaved for dinner. I sighed. I didn’t even want to go to class anyway. They wouldn’t miss me for one day. A date with the TV and my microwaved pork and rice sounded heavenly.
2
“Sato! Have you restocked the drinks yet?”
“Sato! Why hasn’t this spill been cleaned up yet?”
“Sato! Why is this bread still out here? It’s not going to sell itself!”
“Sato!”
I closed my eyes and waited for the healing light of some being greater than myself to wash over me. Instead, I was drowning in the high-pitched groans of a boss who couldn’t get off his backside to do anything himself.
“Yes, sir?” I put my head through the door for the umpteenth time that day.
“Did you clean the toilets?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, because if we get another complaint about the state of the floor or that there’s no more toilet paper, it’s coming out of your pay.”
I fought the urge to tell him I didn’t make enough to pay for the toilet paper even if he wanted to dock my wages for it. Slave children made better money than I did.
“Did you change the display for this week’s promotion?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Did you… Are you tapping your fingers?”
I grasped the door so tight that my skin turned white. I didn’t realise I’d been rapping my fingers along it, waiting for him to get to the point or leave me alone.
“No, sir.”
“Because if you don’t want to be here, I can find someone else, you know?”
“Yes, sir. I know.”
The doorbell tinkled. Saved by the bell.
“Get to work. I’ll speak to you again later.”
I nodded and reversed out the door. It was the businessman from the day before. Same briefcase, different suit. Even gaudier tie. He loaded up with more alcohol and health drinks, and this time grabbed one of the more expensive bento boxes.
“Would you like me to heat that for you, sir?”
He looked up over his glasses as he was rifling through his wallet and stopped. His eyes flicked to the clock above my head.
“What time is it?”
“I’m sorry, sir?”
His eyes flicked to the clock again. “What time is it?”
I turned to look. “It’s 3:30 p.m., sir, but I don’t…”
“Oh right, you’re the special needs hire, aren’t you?” He took out a bill and closed his wallet. He leaned forward, preparing to drop a massive truth bomb on me. He put a finger up and beckoned me closer. “Now listen here. I understand you’re a little special. I have no problem with that. Really. Even the mentally challenged need to find work. But I want you to try and think for a second. You can do at least that, can’t you? Look at the time. Do you really think that a customer who buys a bento at this time, a customer such as myself, a man who clearly works and makes more money than you could ever dream of possessing, would want to eat it here, right now? Why would I want you to heat it for me? Tell me that, if you’re at all able to comprehend why that was such a stupid question.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry sir, we’re required to ask whenever a customer-”
“I don’t care what you’re required to do.” The man slammed the bill down on the counter. “How about you try using your brain for once? A bit of logical thinking. It might get you somewhere, you never know.”
I gave the man his change and receipt and watched him leave. The doorbell tinkled. My heart pounded and dots swam across my vision. I wanted to jump the counter, throw the doors open and drop kick the man in the back of the head. I wanted to take his fancy bento and shove it in his face. Would you like it heated now, huh? But instead, I smiled until he was out of sight and then slouched over, waiting for a bolt of lightning from a bored god to strike me and put me out of my misery.
“Sato!”
I fought back the tears.
“Yes, sir?”
“The man didn’t have any complaints this time, I hope?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Get back to work. Oh, and take these.” The boss loaded two crates of pastries into my arms. “Make sure they’re out there before the evening rush or-” It’s coming out of my pay. I finished the sentence in my head for him. Everything was coming out of my pay. If it was up to him, my pay would be coming out of my pay. The store rent would be coming out of my pay. The prime minister’s wage would be coming out of my pay. I might be able to save up a year and pay him for a week, who knew?
The bell tinkled as 5:30 hit and I put the convenience store behind
me. Thirty minutes, that wasn’t too bad. Better than usual.
“Meow.”
I turned into the dark and seedy alley behind the store and smiled.
“Hey, how are you doing little guy?” I called the cat Dusty. I heard him crying on my way home a few weeks earlier. He had no family, and I had no idea how he got there, but he was always covered in dust from rummaging around the trash. I pulled out some food I bought for him and dropped it on the ground. “You hungry?”
He meowed and ran over. I gave him a few pats on the head as he wolfed the food down. He was small and sickly, but he’d been there on his own for several weeks. He was stronger than he looked.
“You have it better than me, no doubt. At least you don’t have to worry about getting kicked out of the house each month, or whether you’ll come home to the electricity finally cut.” The kitten didn’t reply, but he did finish the food in record time. I smiled. His purr was the one thing that made me feel relaxed. Calm, even. It was a rare feeling, something I’d almost forgotten over the last few years; ever since leaving school and working dead-end job after dead-end job. He meowed and put his paws up on my knees.
“I don’t have anymore, sorry. Not today. I’ll bring you some more tomorrow, if I can.”
My wallet was light enough to float on water. Maybe I could scrounge up a few coins from underneath the couch. It broke my heart to see the little guy go hungry. I picked him up and gave him a cuddle before putting him back down. He ran off behind a trash can.
I wanted to take him home with me. Give him a proper home… but I couldn’t. He was better off on the streets. At least there he could scavenge for food. Maybe someone better would come along and find him one day, and then he could have a real home. A real home with a real family; people who could be there for him and feed him and love him and raise him well.
That wasn’t me.
I didn’t know how to look after another being. I couldn’t even take care of myself. The kids used to call me yurei in school. My dark hair always hung over my face and, with my shoulders slouched forward, it was like a ghost floating down the halls between classes.
Kage Page 1