Chapter XIX - Like I Was Never Born (III)

Sunrise Mart, Yokohama's 24 hour convenience store, stood on the corner of a quiet intersection where two residential neighborhoods met, along with large windows capturing the morning light that gave the place its name. From the outside, it looked like any of the thousands of convenience stores that dotted Japan's urban landscape—adorning modest signage, promotional posters for seasonal items, and a bell that chimed softly when I pushed open the door at precisely 9:50 AM.

Inside the store, a multitude of fluorescent lights cast an unnaturally bright glow over rows of neatly arranged products. Immediately, I was barraged with the familiar scent of coffee from the self-service machine mingled with the slightly sweet aroma of onigiri and packaged bread. A soft J-pop song played over speakers mounted in the ceiling corners, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to be intrusive.

"Ah, Kagami-kun! Right on time as usual."

Mizushima Kanako looked up from behind the register, with a practical bob haircut framing a face that always seemed both tired and kind. At 38, she carried herself respectfully yet dutifully as the manager of the store, a role she'd held for five years now.

"Good morning, Mizushima-san," I replied with a slight bow, my eyes automatically sweeping across the store to assess what needed attention. Sunday mornings were usually steady, with early risers stopping for coffee and breakfast on their way to various weekend activities.

"You can head to the back and change. Kanzaki-kun is already here, restocking the refrigerated section. Kokonoe-kun is..."

She hesitated, a flash of worry passing over her features.

"...being a handful, as per usual. Well, he's technically here, but he's already talking about leaving early."

I nodded, trying not to let my own concern show at the mention of the Sunrise Mart's most erratic employee. Kokonoe Daiki's commitment to his job was inversely proportional to his commitment to his hair products, which was to say, nearly nonexistent. While I headed toward the back room, I caught sight of Kanzaki in the refrigerated aisle, in the process of methodically arranging bottled teas with the same subdued focus he brought to everything.

Kanzaki Minato and I shared the same class, Class 2-A; he sat in the back of homeroom period and in other periods whenever he could, always silent and aloof from the chatter and drama that swirled around him. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was in a voice so soft it often got lost under the din. It was similar to how Minazuki-san acted, but instead of it being out of resentment of Japanese paradigms, it was simply his nature. Needless to say, Akise constantly rambled about how Kanzaki was secretly the next "Signer" in Amane Private Academy aside from him, as he clearly had the "XXX rated" protagonist hairstyle.

Whatever that meant.

Our eyes met briefly. He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment that contained neither warmth nor coldness. Merely recognition. Here, away from the social hierarchies of school, we'd developed a comfortable silence. He never asked about the bruises or the dark circles under my eyes. I never asked about the notebook he was always writing in during breaks. It was an arrangement that suited us both.

The back room was small but quite organized, which was honestly a testament to Mizushima-san's management style. Employee lockers lined one wall, a small break table occupied the center, and a bulletin board displayed shift schedules, safety regulations, and company announcements. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and the instant coffee that fueled most of the staff through long shifts.

I changed quickly into my uniform. It was a simple button-up shirt with the store logo embroidered on the breast pocket, paired with dark pants and comfortable shoes. As I adjusted my collar in the small mirror mounted inside my locker door, I caught sight of my cheek.

The mark from my father's hand had bloomed into an angry red splotch that would undoubtedly darken to purple over the next few hours.

What a mess.

"You're going to need a better story than walking into a door this time."

I turned to find Kanzaki standing in the doorway with a case of empty bottles in his arms. His eyes flicked briefly to my cheek before returning to my reflection in the mirror.

"I was thinking stray baseball during gym," I replied, attempting lightness I didn't feel.

To that, Kanzaki set the empty bottles on the sorting shelf and reached into the small refrigerator where staff could store their lunches. Instead of responding, he removed a cold can of coffee and handed it to me without much in the way of an explanation.

"For the swelling," he said after a moment when I made no move to take it.

"Thanks." I slowly accepted the can, pressing its cold surface gently against my cheek.

It felt like heaven.

Kanzaki shrugged and allowed himself a small smile beneath the bangs covering his eyes, as if to say it was nothing, and returned to his work without another word.

"Zombie-kun! Ghost-kun! There you are!"

Our moment of understanding was shattered by Kokonoe Daiki's boisterous entrance.

At 20, he was only a few years older than Kanzaki and me, but he carried himself with the exaggerated self-importance of someone who believed his university ID card made him infinitely more worldly. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned to reveal a designer t-shirt beneath, and his hair looked like it had been styled by someone charging by the hour.

If it were a decade or two ago, there would definitely have been derogatory comments made about his sexual orientation just now, but this was modern-day Japan. He was just a loser in everyone's eyes. Including mine. Especially mine.

"I've been looking everywhere for you guys! Listen, I've got this super important brunch with a business contact at noon. Networking, you know? Critical for my future. So I need one of you to cover the register while I jet. I'd do the same for you!"

I had to admit, he was a great actor.

I exchanged a brief glance with Kanzaki, who had returned to intensely sorting bottles. He was trying very hard to become invisible. So I suppose I had to deal with him.

"...Business contact?"

"Yeah, this girl from Keio—I mean, this potential business partner who happens to study finance at a top university," Kokonoe corrected himself with a transparently fake cough. "Super important connection. Could be life-changing."

"Mizushima-san already approved this?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

Kokonoe's smile faltered slightly before bouncing back at full wattage.

"Well, I mean, she knows I have important commitments outside of this place. Come on, Zombie-kun, don't be difficult. Just a couple of hours."

"I'll have to ask Mizushima-san—"

"Ask me what?"

We all turned to find our manager standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her uniform. Despite her small stature, Mizushima-san had a way of filling a room with her presence when necessary. Right now, with her eyebrows raised expectantly, she looked like a teacher who had caught students plotting mischief redhanded.

"Mizushima-san!" Kokonoe's voice jumped half an octave. "I was just telling Kagami-kun about that important business meeting I mentioned earlier this week? The one you said I could leave early for?"

"Did I?" She tilted her head slightly. "I don't recall approving any early departures today, especially not on a Sunday morning when we're typically busiest with the breakfast crowd."

"But it's really important! It's for my future career and everything!"

"Kokonoe-kun, your future career would benefit greatly from developing reliability and work ethic. Your shift ends at 2:00 PM. We need all hands on deck for the morning rush."

As Kokonoe's face cycled through a series of emotions—disbelief, indignation, and finally resignation—I had to look away to hide my own amusement. Kanzaki also wasn't immune to laughter and had to resort to faking a coughing fit.

"But—"

"No buts," Mizushima-san cut him off firmly. "Kagami-kun, I need you on Register #2. Kanzaki-kun, after you finish with the beverages, the magazine section needs rearranging. Kokonoe-kun, you can handle restocking the onigiri and bread section."

She turned to leave, then paused, her eyes landing on my cheek. I tensed, waiting for the question, the concern, and the uncomfortable attention.

Instead, she simply said, "When you're done on register, Kagami-kun, I need help with inventory in the back. The frozen section has some discrepancies that need addressing."

It was her way of offering me a quiet task away from customer eyes once the mark on my face became too obvious to ignore. This wasn't the first time she'd made such accommodations without directly acknowledging why, and I felt a surge of gratitude.

But also inadequacy.

Once again, I became a burden instead of the dutiful employee I was supposed to be. Once again, I'd failed to manage things on my own, forcing others to pick up the slack.

I was failing at everything lately.

"Yes, Mizushima-san."