HR: Where Hope Goes to Die

The first thing Akio was asked to do at his new office was fix the secretary’s printer.

Early on in his career he learned that being a software developer often meant singlehandedly being the entire company’s tech support.

He spent four years earning his degree (graduating with honours, no less) only to spend most of his time explaining that computers needed to be plugged in to work.

Somewhere along the way, Akio had been tricked into believing that if he pursued a high-demand skill, he’d have job security, a decent salary, and a relatively comfortable life.

What no one ever bothered to mention were the brutal hours, the soul-draining review meetings that could have been emails and the actual emails that would sit in limbo in a never-ending “will get back to you” loop.

And now, thanks to his transfer to Tokyo, he had also been saddled with New Guy Tax, which meant that everything no one else wanted to do was suddenly his problem.

“Oh, I need this presentation done, but I have a lunch meeting with Karen from finance.”

“Oh, I need to pick up my kid from daycare. Can you finish this report?”

“Oh, you’re good with computers, right? My laptop is acting weird, can you take a look?”

Akio grimly realized that this was going to be his life for the foreseeable future.

And as if the never-ending cycle of corporate slavery wasn’t bad enough, he had barely gotten a wink of sleep last night.

Last night, someone had broken into the apartment. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

He had woken up to a strange thumping sound. At first, he thought he imagined it. Then it happened again, and again.

So, he sat up, heart pounding, grabbed the nearest blunt object (which turned out to be a half-empty water bottle), and crept out of his room.

He braced himself for an intruder. A burglar who had somehow chosen the one apartment in Tokyo that had absolutely nothing worth stealing.

Akio didn’t know what crimes he had committed in his past life to deserve this, but they must have been severe, because there was no other explanation for why, at two in the morning, he was standing in his kitchen, half-asleep, gripping an admittedly poor choice of a weapon, watching his upside-down roommate bounce on her hands while waiting for her taiyaki to heat up.

She was wearing big, ridiculous clown slippers, her messy bun barely holding together, and her oversized sleep shirt slipping just enough to reveal a sliver of stomach that he was trying really hard to ignore.

And she was loud, not just in the thud-thud-thud kind of way, but also in the talking to herself while doing a full gymnastics routine at two in the morning kind of way.

“Okay—one more—stick the landing—OH GOD—”

Her palms slapped against the floor as she tried to transition into another handstand, but she miscalculated. Her feet swung over too fast, and for a second, Akio genuinely thought she was going to snap her neck.

She didn’t. Her leg shot out, colliding with the kitchen counter. The entire room seemed to shake. Her slippers, her massive, stupid, clown slippers went flying in different directions.

One hit the fridge. The other came straight for him.

He saw it coming, but he was too tired to dodge.

The slipper smacked him straight in the face. He blinked, and then, slowly, it slid down his cheek.

He was, in that moment, quite proud of himself for not strangling her on the spot, because, honestly, he wanted to.

When the microwave beeped, Amaya flipped upright, pulled out her taiyaki, and let out a delighted little squeal while bouncing on her heels. And just like that, his annoyance quickly melted into amusement. It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked so foolishly happy over fish-shaped pastries.

But Akio’s overwhelming fatigue today only confirmed what he already knew: This living arrangement was absolutely, unequivocally, not feasible.

Not unless he wanted to spend the next year distracted and sleep deprived.

So, in the name of preserving what remained of his sanity, he adjusted his tie, took a steadying breath, and politely knocked on the frosted glass door of HR’s office.

"Excuse me, it’s Hosonuma from IT."

The lady inside, Sakai-san, looked up from her monitor and gave him a tired but polite smile.

“Ah, Hosonuma-san. Come in.”

Akio stepped inside. He wasn’t sure if bringing this up was a good idea, but he wanted to solve this problem as soon as possible.

“I wanted to ask about the housing mix-up with my company apartment.”

Sakai-san sighed before he even finished speaking.

"Ah, yes," she said. "I reviewed it this morning."

Akio’s pulse lifted with hope.

"Then—"

"I'm afraid there’s nothing we can do."

His hope curled up and died.

Sakai-san clicked through a few files on her screen before continuing.

“Your company-provided housing was assigned through an automated system shared across multiple partners. Your roommate was placed there under the same process.”

She glanced at him over her glasses. “You’re both employees under the program, and the apartment meets the required space regulations. It’s not against policy.”

Akio tried to keep a straight face, but his stomach had already sunk to his knees.

“I understand that, but…” He exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully and trying to sound reasonable.

“Surely there’s a way to correct the mistake? She’s in a completely different field, and she doesn’t even work for the same company.”

Sakai-san gave him a look that was meant to be sympathetic, but he knew it was really just rehearsed indifference.

“Hosonuma-san, if we reassigned housing every time there was a small mismatch, it would create an overwhelming amount of paperwork.”

Akio bit back a laugh. He wouldn’t call it a “small mismatch”. For heaven’s sake, they paired him with a bloody circus freak.

“But surely—”

“The apartment is large enough for two,” Sakai-san cut him off. “You’re welcome to find a new apartment on your own, but financially speaking, this arrangement is more cost-effective for both of you. I’m sure you’re aware that rent in Tokyo is—”

“Yes, I understand.”

And with one last, insufferable, soulless smile, she twisted the knife:

“Then there’s no real issue, is there? She’s only here for a year, right? Just hold out.”

His eyebrow twitched a little. He wasn’t the type to argue. Not at work. Especially not on his first day at a new branch.

If he pushed back too hard, it would make him look difficult, like a problem employee and to his knowledge, problem employees didn’t get promotions.

So instead, he bowed.

“Understood. Sorry for the trouble.”

He stiffly walked out of the office, and only let his shoulders slump once the door clicked shut behind him.

For a second, he imagined himself storming back in, slamming his hands on the desk, and demanding that they fix their mistake. The fantasy was incredibly satisfying, but unfortunately, that’s all it was, a fantasy.

So, he did the only thing he could do. He sighed, ran a hand down his face and forced himself to suck it up. Dragging his feet, he made his way back to the IT department’s office.

The Tokyo IT team was slightly bigger than the one in Uji, but not by much. Still underfunded, still understaffed, still the first place where budget cuts hit.

By the time Akio reached the office, he wanted nothing more than to slam his head against his desk and pass out for the next eight hours. But sadly, documentation wouldn’t write itself, and unless he wanted to deal with a round of passive-aggressive emails from upper management, he needed caffeine.

With that goal in mind, he shuffled over to the vending machine, fishing his wallet from his pocket. His fingers moved automatically, flip it open, grab a note, feed the machine, except… there were no notes to grab.

His wallet was empty.

Frowning, he flipped through the slots, expecting, hoping, to find his cash tucked somewhere he hadn’t noticed. Nope, it was gone.

In its place, nestled where his money should have been, was a single scrap of paper. Slowly, with the growing sense that he was soon to become a headline in tomorrow's news, Akio unfolded it.

The handwriting was atrocious. Lopsided, barely legible kanji that only a kindergartener, or his foreign roommate, could possibly produce.

"Thanks, I’ll pay you back! :)"

A vein pulsed at his temple. That little smiley face was mocking him, daring him to lose what little grip he had on his sanity. He stared at the note before crumpling it in his fist.

Now, not only was he drowning in work, but he was also broke and uncaffeinated.

Which meant murder was officially starting to look like a perfectly reasonable course of action.

Akio focused on his breathing, willing himself not to snap. “Breathe in, breathe out. Let go of the anger. Find your inner peace.” He repeated to himself.

But there was no peace, only rage.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the vending machine, as if he could telepathically convince it to spit out a can of coffee in sympathy. His bank account was wincing from Tokyo’s cost of living and he was being extorted by a circus freak too. He didn’t budget for this.

"Rough morning?"

Akio turned his head just enough to see Kubo-san, his senior colleague, standing a few feet away with a smug grin and a can of coffee in hand.

They had worked together online before, but today was the first time they were meeting in person. And, somehow, Kubo-san was exactly what Akio had expected, laid-back, sharp, and perpetually looking like he wasn’t doing anything, yet still managing to meet his deadlines.

He was the kind of guy who could go missing for two weeks and somehow return with both a raise and an office upgrade. Akio resented him on principle, but he also respected him.

Akio sighed. "You could say that."

Kubo-san’s eyes flicked down to the crumpled note in Akio’s fist. "I take it the new roommate situation isn’t going well? Sakai-san filled me in."

Akio flattened the paper out and held it up. Kubo-san read it. Blinked. Then burst out laughing.

“Oh man, she robbed you blind."

“She robbed me of my coffee, which is worse.”

Kubo-san took a sip of his drink, completely unsympathetic. "So what’s she like? Besides a thief, obviously.”

Akio pinched the bridge of his nose. "Loud, unstable and does backflips in the kitchen at two in the morning."

"So, she’s hot." He teased.

Akio choked. "That is not the takeaway here."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." He smirked, clearly not convinced. "Look, you’re new here, so I’ll do you a favour. I’ll spot you the cash for a coffee, and I’ll invite you to your own damn welcome party."

"My what?"

"Your welcome party. It’s tradition, everyone goes out drinking when a new guy joins." Kubo-san pulled some coins from his pocket and tossed them into the vending machine. A can of black coffee clunked down, which he handed over with a lazy smile. "And you, my friend, look like you could use a drink."

Akio took the can with a grudging nod, cracking it open with one thumb. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to socialize, but after the morning he’d had, getting a few beers in his system actually felt like the responsible choice.

“…Fine. Where are we going?”

Kubo-san grinned, slinging an arm over Akio’s shoulder like they were already best friends. "Just a little izakaya down the street. Cheap drinks, decent food. No HR."

"Sold."

"See? You’re fitting in already."

Akio wasn’t sure about that. But at the very least, if he was going to suffer, he might as well do it with a beer.