Hustlin’

Nothing.

A second of darkness stretching into infinity with whole lifetimes contained
within.

Then every single one of Mutsuki’s senses turned back on at once and he was
inundated by sensory overload: The blinding light of the fluorescent tube lights,
the soft give of the cheap fabric lining of the cubicle partition he was leaning
against, the feeling of the rough carpeting on one hand and on the other the
soft wood of the mop’s handle, which he was still holding, and the sound of
ringing telephones mixed with the low murmur that came from various people
all talking at once, mingled with a high ringing that was beginning to go low,
which only he could hear.

He was currently leaning against the aforementioned cubicle partition, which
had been bent by the force with which Mutsuki had crashed against it. This
wasn’t as big an accomplishment as it sounded like, as it was made from
cheap materials and wasn’t built particularly sturdy.

More miraculous was the fact that it was even standing at all.

Though Mutsuki’s body was fully alert, his mind was still attempting to reboot
from its previous crash. He had to slowly piece back where he was and what
he was doing there.

He remembered the long lines. Jagged, buzzsaw teeth. A shy but beautiful
smile. Halls and corridors. A pot of hot coffee. Running.

Running away.

Running away from Mr. Kamimura.

Running away from Mr. Kamimura who in the middle of the most bizarre interview
he’d ever had in his life suddenly transformed, like a villain in a sentai show, and
began bulldozing everything in his way.

Including… Himself.

He quickly flashed back to the previous chapter, when the yellowish green mass
of muscles that was now Mr. Kamimura had ran him over, pushing him through
a wall and into the place he was now laying in.

A place filled with all the quiet chatting, buzzing phone lines and monotone
repetition of a fully staffed office.

Mutsuki broke out in a cold sweat once he realized he was in a room full of
people and Mr. Kamimura was right behind him. Probably already there.

He started getting up, staggering and almost falling down as he still felt
lightheaded and dizzy. He could see a blurry figure right in front of him,
sitting in the cubicle next to him.

He held on to the hazy profile to regain his footing.

“Y-You have to run. Have to get out of here. Mr. Kamimura. He was trying
to make more coffee. But something went wrong. Something went very
wrong! You need to get out of here! All of you need to get out of here
before he comes!”

Mutsuki was trying to keep his voice low so as to not cause a panic, but he
was still not fully in control of himself, so he was alternating between
whispering and screaming. However, no matter how he talked or warned
the person he was speaking to, that person was still sitting in the cubicle,
just talking over the phone with whomever he was talking to.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again and tried
his best to clear his vision and to make the world around him stop spinning.
And as the hazy figure started coming into focus, Mutsuki discovered, to his
surprise, that it wasn’t a person at all.

It was one of those mannequins they used to test cars crashing.

And, for some reason, it was wearing glasses, a dress shirt and a wig and
had been posed to be sitting straight in its chair, looking at its monitor, its hand
over the mouse.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. Of course. That is absolutely not how that device
should be working. However, Mr. Gnawrlraskhang, the device you are currently
describing would not be a cannon. No. That is actually a battering ram. You
called Low-Execution Gunpowder, when you need to speak with Siege and
Ransaking instead. Yes, I’m sorry? No. No sir. No need to worry. I will transfer
you myself and explain the situation to their agent. Please hold on the line.
One moment, please. Thanks!”

Suddenly, a few rows down the line, another telephone started ringing.

“Good day, you have reached the Uma Corporation’s Siege and Ransaking
customer support! Is this in relation to an ongoing raid, or are you still in the
planning stages?”

Mutsuki looked all around him and realized that as far as he could see, the
entire room was populated by these dummies, all wearing one or two items
of clothing, all of them wearing wigs and all of them posed inside their cubicles,
either sitting or standing, waving, thinking, pointing.

But all of them were wearing headsets and all of them were either on call with
someone or waiting to be.

“Yes ma’am. I do understand sudden destabilization and implosion is not ideal
in this situation…”

“No, sir. I’m afraid your insurance plan does not cover anything below the waist.
It is a bulletproof vest after all.”

“Of course the catapult should have thrown you as soon as you used the lever,
not after your target was long gone. Now, sir, we do value you as a customer,
so please tell us, how can the Uma Corporation make this right?”

As his attention was suddenly caught by what looked like one more dummy
wearing a low cut v-neck sweater and a long haired wig that had been, for some
weird reason, posed as leaning over the partition of its cubicle and looking
into the next one, where another dummy wearing glasses, a bowl cut wig with
a cowlick and a patterned tie was standing in a pose that he could only describe
as “trying not to look but tempted to”, Mutsuki saw a large door at the end of the
room which appeared to be the only exit from that place, other than the hole in
the wall through which Mr. Kamimura was already entering, making it much wider
in the process and shaking the walls and ceiling with his footsteps.

“Apologies for the noise, sir.”

“Apologies for the noise, sir.”

“Apologies for the noise, ma’am.”

“Won’t happen again.”

Mutsuki moved while squatting, trying to use the cubicle walls as cover and
scuttling around the aisles as quietly as he could to avoid Mr. Kamimura’s
attention as he made his way to the door.

Meanwhile, Mr. Kamimura was walking slowly around the room, trying to
avoid the cubicles and calmly looking at the posing mannequins with curiosity,
sometimes approaching them to sniff them, either growling or snorting. Every
once in a while, he would raise his head and start sniffing the air, as if tracking
a scent, but for some reason, every time he did he started walking away from
Mutsuki instead of getting closer. Thankfully, Mutsuki had managed to make it
to the door.

All he needed to do was pull the lever and quickly get out without Mr. Kamimura
noticing and he could start trying to get back to the lobby to get some help, even
though his quick trip through the wall had him a bit unsure of where he was right
now.

He gently pulled on the door’s extra large lever, which for some reason required
two hands, and after it moved maybe two or three millimeters, it started
squeaking and producing all sorts of mechanic clicks as the very complex,
industrial latches that kept the door closed all started working at once very
slowly, causing tons of friction between them and producing much more noise
than if he had just pulled the lever all at once.

Mr. Kamimura, who until then had been busy inspecting the mug one of the
dummies had been holding and sniffing it carefully, immediately looked back
and saw him squatting in front of the door, pulling at the lever with both hands.
He scowled at him, roaring furiously and began a mad dash straight for him
that went through a lot of cubicles and dummies that were sadly run over and
completely destroyed.

“Apologies for the noise, ma’am.”

“Won’t happen again.”

With the element of surprise gone, Mutsuki simply pulled the lever all at once,
using the impulse to also lift himself out of his squatting position, opening the
door and then kicking it with all his strength to open it and immediately launch
himself into the hallway and start running as fast as he could, mop still in hand.

A few seconds later, just as it had been for the entire chase sequence,
Mr. Kamimura exploded out of the room still dragging pieces of cubicle
and wires and phones and even half of one dummy.

“I’m very sorry sir, but due to a site emergency I will need to disconnect
this call. Please be advised that one of our agents will call you back again.
Apologies for the inconvenience and thank you for understanding.”

Mutsuki looked back, horrified, then turned to look in front of him and saw
that the hallway was about to end, leading to what seemed to be a giant
floor-to-ceiling window.

He remembered that was the window that looked down at the lobby and, taking
a deep breath and preparing to make one final effort, Mutsuki put everything he
had on that last dash, running as fast as he could and gripping the mop like a
knight holding a lance in a joust, head first, as far away from him as he could.

He only hoped he could get the speed he would need for that stunt.

And just as he was having that thought, his feet stuttered and came within
seconds of his face meeting the ground, before he quickly placed his free hand
against the floor and, using what strength he still had left, pushed to get back up
and stable, his stuttering feet once again finding a rhythm and regaining speed.

He kept running at full speed, lungs burning, and as soon as he was close
enough to the window, he jumped at it, holding the mop and pushing it with
both arms, trying to break the glass in front of him.

At first, the mop did not go through and the other end of it pushed hard and
deep against Mutsuki’s stomach. Still, through the pain, he kept at it. Putting
his back and legs into it, the glass finally cracked, allowing him to jump off
the ledge of the window and fall some 3 or 4 meters down to...

“Now as I mentioned, please keep your arms, legs and head inside the hallways
at all times or the Uma Corporation cannot be made responsible for your--- Did
anyone hear something brea---”

Just as the nice, smiling man in the long sleeved white shirt, light blue pants and
matching vest with the crew cut and tiny mustache looked up from his group
of interviewees to investigate the noise he’d just heard, Mutsuki fell right on top of
him, followed by a rain of glass and a lot of surprised screams and shouts, first
from the group the man had just been talking to, and then from the rest of the
people at the lobby, as well as the immediate attention of the men in black in
charge of security.

“Are you… Okay? I’m… So very sorry… About… That…” Mutsuki
incomprehensibly groaned at the unconscious and, hopefully,
unharmed man he was currently resting atop of.

The fall had been higher and much more painful than he originally thought it
would be, even with the unforeseen break in his fall. He wasn’t entirely sure if
he’d sustained any injuries, since he was still running on fear and adrenaline,
but he knew he was not done yet.

He’d had a realization while looking at Mr. Kamimura back in the room with the
dummies.

He knew what he had to do.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“What happened?”

“Did he kill him? Is he dead?”

“Can we get some help here, please?”

“Yes, sir, we have a possible 10-05 down at the main lobby area.
Proceeding to assess the situation. Please stand by,” one of the men
in black said while calmly walking in the direction where Mutsuki had
landed.

As Mutsuki was still apologizing to the man underneath him while fruitlessly
attempting to get up, two interviewees grabbed him and helped him get up.

He immediately started pushing them away, screaming.

“No! Stop! Get out of here! You have to get out of here! Go! Now!”

He started limping as fast as he could, shuffling while using the mop, which he
had not let go for even for a second, as a makeshift crutch while still looking back
at the angry and confused men and the rest of the people who were now
focusing on their unconscious guide.

“Take him and leave! Now! Before h---”

That’s when Mr. Kamimura landed right in the middle of the lobby, roaring
and beating the ground in anger and making the entire floor tremble, looking
all around at the rest of the people there, who started to panic and scream
and run in a frenzy.

The man in black was now running, his finger on his ear, signaling to the
other ones behind him.

“Sir, situation has evolved from a possible 10-05 to a Code Red-2. I repeat:
Code Red-2.”

The other men in black started running right behind him, taking out concealed
firearms from under their jackets.

“People, we have a Code Red-2! Partial release! I want backup here
immediately! Keep staff and laypeople out and the entity contained!
Beginning bunker protocoles now!”

As heavy metal plates began coming down to cover the entrances and
windows of the lobby, more men in black began coming out of every door
and hallway carrying large assault rifles, what looked like bazookas and
many other heavy duty weapons that Mutsuki could not recognize, since
he was busy limping as fast as he could to the back of the lobby, where he
finally saw it.

The beverage station.

They quickly surrounded Mr. Kamimura, while also helping the people still
running around or huddled in a corner, panicked, to leave the lobby, guiding
them to other rooms and also helping to carry the unconscious man Mutsuki
had fallen atop of.

“Form a perimeter around! Nice and tight! Don’t give him space to maneuver!”

“Mr. Kamimura! Mr. Kamimura! Please put your hands up and kneel on the
floor! We are warning you!” the main man in black was trying to reason with
Mr. Kamimura, who was still posturing and howling, clearly incensed by all
the people and movement around him.

One of the men in black had run all the way across the hall to try and catch
Mutsuki, who’d kept limping across the lobby all the way to the back of
the room as chaos erupted all around him.

He was just about to reach him, his arm stretched, when suddenly, out of one
of the hallways, a tall handsome man in a dark green suit came out running,
followed by two or three of the light blue suited helpers who were trying and
failing to restrain him and bring him to the back. The man was screaming
hysterically as he pushed them away.

“Please don’t do this! Doumu! Doumu, please you have to transform back! I know
you can do thi--- Stop! Stop it! Let me go! That’s my husband! They’re going to
shoot him down! I have to stop them! Doumu! Please, just stop! Doumu!”

The man in black stopped dead on his track, looked back at the screaming man
in the green suit, then turned to look at the still shuffling Mutsuki.

He turned, and started running to help contain the man in the green suit before
he caused more harm than good.

“Mr. Shibata, please leave the room immediately! We are trying to contain
the situation peacefully!” the main man in black screamed.

“You’re trying to kill him! That’s what you’re trying to do!”

“Mr. Shibata, you’re just making the situation worst!”

Hearing the sound of Mr. Shibata’s voice, Mr. Kamimura looked back to where
he was standing. His eyes softened for a moment when they recognized him.

Unfortunately, that was also the moment when the man in black grabbed him
and started trying to restrain Mr. Shibata to get him out of the room.

“Doumu! Doumu, you have to transform back. Please! You’ve done this before!
You can d--- Hey! Stop! Stop it! I’m tr---”

The man in black covered Mr. Shibata’s mouth and started dragging him to the
back of the room, towards the door through which he had entered the lobby.

This turned Mr. Kamimura hostile once again, his eyes bulging out in anger and
all the veins in his neck popping and pumping uncontrollably.

“Mr. Kamimura! I am warning you!” the main man in black said, his hand going
inside his jacket, while saying under his breath: “Please don’t make us do this!”

Mr. Kamimura roared so loudly it made the entire room tremble and the men in
black lifted their guns and aimed them at him all at once, getting ready to fire.

“Wait!”

A shrill scream reverberated through the room, catching everyone’s attention
and, for a moment, disarming the entire confrontation.

It was Mutsuki.

He was still limping, as fast as he could, using the mop he’d been carrying
all along as a walking stick with one hand, while in the other he was holding,
as high as he could, one of those tall, cylindrical metal dispensers filled to
capacity with hot---

“Ko! Fee!” Mr Kamimura growled, brushing aside maybe five or six men in
black before they could react and running full speed at Mutsuki.

The remaining men in black were just about to start shooting, when the one
in charge took his hand out of his jacket and stepped in front of them.

“Not yet! I’m… Assessing the situation.”

Mr. Kamimura came to a screeching halt right in front of Mutsuki.

He looked down at him, quizzically, sniffing him all over, slowly moving his
head up to the lifted container.

Mr. Kamimura’s face lit up.

He straightened and then, with slow and measured motions, delicately took the
device out of Mutsuki’s hand using his thumb and index finger, lifting it atop his
head, right above his open mouth, the gently using a finger to press the tiny
faucet, letting the hot liquid pour slowly down his gullet.

And as he did, it was like looking at a giant blimp deflate and go limp all at
once. His massive muscles shrinking and receding, his limbs turning back
into their usual length and position and his skin taking back it’s more natural,
human tone until he was just a buck naked regular joe, kneeling in the middle
of a wrecked lobby holding a large coffee urn over his head and shaking it to
let the last drops fall into his open mouth, satisfied.

He burped, then tossed the pot away, shaking his hands and sticking his
tongue out.

“Ouch! That was hot!”

Mr. Shibata, the man in the dark green suit, who’d kept wrestling with the man
in black, was suddenly let go once the main man in black nodded at him, ran as
fast as he could and practically tackled Mr. Kamimura, hugging him tightly and
holding his face against his naked back.

Mr. Kamimura looked back, recognizing the man, then looking at him
apologetically.

“Oh, Kenji… I think I made a bit of a mess.”

“Of course you did, you idiot! I told you, you should have been taking it
easy!”

Mr. Shibata lifted his head to look at Mr. Kamimura. He had anger and
worry coursing all over his face, but also happiness and relief. He was
crying. Then he looked back at Mutsuki, who was still standing there,
mostly thanks to the mop.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Whoever you are, just… Thank you!”

Mutsuki smiled and just the act of moving those muscles caused him
a tremendous amount of pain everywhere.

“It was my pleasure.”

Mr. Shibata helped his husband get back up, placing his jacket on top of him,
trying to cover him up if only a little. Mr. Kamimura grabbed onto him for support,
looking back at Mutsuki, unable to hide the shock in his face.

“Mr. Mutsuki… I… How are you even alive?”

“You told me to run. Remember? Right after you… Transformed? I’m not sure
if that’s what happened or if I have a concu---”

As if on queue, Mutsuki simply went limp, his entire body failing him all at once,
and he fell forward, finally letting go of the mop and, unfortunately, landing face
first on the lobby’s floor.

Turns out, Mutsuki had indeed suffered a mild concussion when Mr. Kamimura
ran him over, which was only exacerbated by him defenestrating himself out a
4 meters tall window, and then cherry-topped by his olympic-level dive on the
waxed hardwood floor.

Unlike before, when he woke up again, Mutsuki did so slowly. Gently. He was
laying in a nice, white bed inside a white, mostly empty room and with 3 men
buzzing all around him like worker bees.

These were all Uma Corporation onsite medical staff, and he was currently
resting in the main building’s infirmary.

He had been stripped of all his clothes and dressed in one of those hospital
gowns, yet his visitor’s badge was still hanging from his neck. Looking down
at himself, he saw he was hooked up to an IV drip and had some other stuff
taped to both his chest and his temples.

He also noticed, to his delight, he no longer hurt all over and in fact felt…
Quite nice.

“Ah, yes! Those would be the pain killers. Wonderful, aren’t they?” the man
said with a hard to locate, vaguely european accent. They all did.

“No wonder they can cause addiction!”

“Sorry, they can cause what… ?” Mutsuki asked, still groggy but concerned
nonetheless.

“Oh, no need to worry. With the dose we gave you, it would be very hard for
you to form a habit.”

“Maybe on a daily basis.”

“For a week or two.”

“Would you like a hot coffee?” one of the doctors said, holding a small cardboard
cup with steam rising out of it.

“No… Thank you.” Mutsuki said, still taking it all in, feeling parched as soon as
he talked. “Water would be nice, though.”

“H2O coming forthwith!”

“But, circling back to our previous point, you have nothing to worry about. You’re
absolutely fine!”

“Well,” one of the doctors quickly corrected.

“Fine is debatable.”

“You will notice you’re covered head to toe in light bruises and lacerations.”

“They’ve all been properly disinfected though!”

“And only 6 of them required suturing!”

“Very light suturing, we might add.”

“9 stitches!”

“Not even in the double digits.”

“That is nothing.”

“Less than nothing!”

“We’ve seen far worse.”

“Coffee?” another doctor said, once again making the same disposable cup
appear out of thin air.

“No, thanks. Water is fine for now”, Mutsuki said while gently holding the small
cup of water up.

“Understood!”

“No problemo.”

“Do drink slowly though.”

“Your stomach was completely empty, so we had to hook you up”

“Literally!”

“So the tummy might be a bit tender at the moment.”

“And that’s without even mentioning that giant hematoma on your abdomen.”

Mutsuki, who had propped his bed up so he could drink his water and speak
comfortably with the doctors, lifted his gown up to reveal a large black, green
and purple blotch on his stomach, right next to his navel.

“Ugh!”

“Just like a bad Olle Bærtling!”

Just don’t touch it too much.”

“Should be fine in a couple of weeks.”

“You’re lucky the trauma didn’t rupture anything!”

“Very lucky!”

“And not just from that! Even though we examined you as thoroughly as
non-chirurgical, non-invasive methods would allow it…” the doctor admitted,
somewhat disappointed.

“We asked.”

“They said ‘no’. As usual...”

All three doctors were openly mopping like angry toddlers, when they noticed
the look of simmering concern on their patient.

“Anyways…”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask, you know?”

“Feeling hydrated? Ready for some stronger stuff? Maybe some warm,
refreshing kaffe?” the doctor said, starting to lift the disposable cup.

“No. No coffee.” Mutsuki replied as tersely as he could without being impolite.

The cup immediately went back down, disappearing from the frame.

“As we were saying…”

“We found no fractures, no muscular tears and no injuries or internal bleeding
of any kind.”

“Amazing!”

“Astounding!”

“Spectacular, even.”

“Your CT scans came clean as a whistle”

“Just look at these babies!” said one of the doctors, pointing at a myriad of
pictures of what Mutsuki presumed was his own body, displayed on multiple
tablets being held by the other two doctors.

“That’s nice.”

“Well… There is the sprained ankle.”

All three doctors nodded at that, crestfallen.

Mutsuki lifted his covers and noticed that his left ankle had been tightly
bandaged.

Then he looked slightly to his right and saw one of the doctors crouching
there, smiling, cup of coffee in hand.

Mutsuki shaked his head politely, and the doctor crouched further, then
reappeared next to the other doctors.

“A real shame.”

“Though it’s not that severe.”

“Just put some ice on it. Should be good to go.”

“Ice is good on lots of things.”

“Like coffee!”

“Iced coffee?” the doctor asked, dropping two ice cubes on the same old cup,
causing the liquid to spill.

He then tried to give Mutsuki the cup, but he gently pushed it away with his hand,
once again shaking his head.

“But definitely don’t put any ice on that broken tooth!”

“Na-ah!”

“Bad idea.”

Frowning at that, Mutsuki started tentatively opening his mouth, giving his
tongue some room to feel his teeth around.

“Back and to the left.”

“First molar.”

“Or so we’ve been told.”

“Odontology isn’t really one of our fields of expertise.”

“We had to get an outside consultation for that.”

“Nothing we can do about it either.”

“Again: Not our field.”

“We’re sure the suits will figure something out.”

“They always do.”

“It’s all they do.”

“All the time.”

The doctors all became eerily quiet while ruminating that last thought, looking at
each other uneasily, then, for some reason, looking back at one of the room’s
walls for a while before remembering the patient was still in the room with them.

“Coffee?” all three of them asked at once and each of them holding a similar,
disposable cardboard cup in their hand.

Mutsuki uncharacteristically lost his temper and replied in a still controlled but
loud tone of voice.

“No! Thank you, but no! I don’t want any coffee!”

The doctors, panicking at his reply, dropped their cups of coffee in unison and
practically jumped away from him, hugging the wall behind them and screaming
at it as if it could understand them.

“Let us out!”

“Let us out!”

“He’s going to grind us into meatballs!”

Both embarrassed by his outburst and deeply confused by the doctors’ reaction,
Mutsuki was about to ask exactly what was going on, when he was distracted by
the distinctive click of a lock, the door to the room slowly opening.

The woman on the other side of the threshold certainly had a foreign look to her.
She was by far the prettiest woman Mutsuki had ever known, with long eyelashes
and intense amber brown eyes. Her skin was dark and tan, which contrasted
perfectly with her red suit, red tie and black shirt. Her short hair, which ran wild
with curls and ringlets all over her head, had a luxurious black sheen to it. And
her ears were pierced and adorned by small golden teardrops.

In what was becoming something of a worrisome pattern, the woman also had
a small but noticeable scar running down from the corner of her right eye and
into her cheek. It was an angry, bright red scar.

She gave all 3 doctors a look of shame and embarrassment, then sighed deeply
and without saying a word, extended her open hand at them.

All 3 doctors, still huddled against the wall in fear, first looked at the woman, then
at Mutsuki, then at the dropped and spilled cups of coffee on the floor. They all at
once assumed a slumped, pitiful stance as they slowly began leaving the room,
handing her a chart with some papers on it on their way out and leaving the two
of them all alone.

“Wait! I’m sorry… Are they leaving because of me? Did I upset them? That
wasn’t my intention. I need to go and apologize---”

The woman, who had slowly entered the room after the doctors left and
promptly closed the door behind her, had been looking at the chart in her
hand.

While she did not address him directly, she did lift a single hand and wiggled
her finger left to right as a reply.

“Don’t worry your concussed little head about those three clowns. They
deserved that scare. Their bedside manner is just awful.”

She kept looking at the chart, glancing through the pages back and forth,
and lifting her gaze only for a moment to smile at him, before dipping back
down again.

“So, Mr… Mutsuki Arata… Mutsuki? Like Mutsuki Heihachiro, the union
leader?”

And there it was. Finally.

It didn’t happen in every interview, and yet, it kept happening.

Someone would always notice and make the connection.

Mutsuki smiled.

Thanks to the painkillers he had been given, he could do so once again
without making every cell in his body scream.

“I think he would have prefered to be remembered as a teacher first. Then
an union leader”

“Well, this just became very interesting…”

This had apparently caused the woman’s attention to shift, with her eyes now
fully on him at all times while only looking down at the chart when absolutely
necessary.

“Well, Mr. Mutsuki. It has been quite a day for you. Hasn’t it? And I am here to
make sure the rest of your day goes by without any more complications. My
name is A.Z. Azel, and I represent the Uma Corporation’s legal department.
The ‘suits’, as they so eloquently put it. I am here to discuss what your future
intentions are in regards to what happened today while you were within our
care.”

“I’m sorry… My intentions? For what?”

Ms. Azel’s smile widened.

“Mr. Mutsuki, let's not beat around the burning bush: While our public
communications did contain wording that placed all legal responsibility for
any mishaps that could happen while within our building onto the interviewees
for today’s hiring initiative, we are aware that your… ‘Altercation’... With one
Kamimura Doumu certainly goes beyond what we had expected that wording
to cover. Now, under these circumstances, the Uma Corporation would expect
nothing less than legal retaliation, so I have been asked to come here and
assess your future intentions in regards to our organization, as well as to
make you aware of the various options besides litigation that you currently
have available should you choose to cooperate with us.”

Both amused and slightly insulted, Mutsuki could not help but smile.

“So… You think I’m going to sue you.”

Not a question, but a bitterly tossed statement, that was just as bitterly
caught.

“Well, duh!” Ms. Azel said mockingly, then laughed for a moment, before
looking back at Mutsuki, who looked just as serene as before. This powerfully
piqued her interest. “By The Name… You aren’t going to sue, are you?”

“No, I really wasn’t planning to.”

Enraptured by this turn of events, Ms. Azel put down the medical chart and,
signaling for him to scooch a bit to the side, sat right next to Mutsuki on the
infirmary bed. She was smiling, beyond amused.

“May I ask why?”

“Well, I don’t think it would be very productive for me to try and sue the
company where I’m trying to get a job. Would you?”

“Well, no, Mr. Mutsuki. I don’t think it would. But, on the other hand, did it ever
occur to you that by suing the Uma Corporation you could make more money
today than you would ever make working for us as a mop jockey?”

Now it was Mutsuki who was smiling amusedly.

“I have principles, Ms. Azel. But I am not stupid. People sometimes confuse
the two. Yes, I’m aware that should I sue, or try to work on a settlement with
you, which is what you’re here to try and push, I could get exorbitant amounts
of money that could get both me and my family out of financial hardship. And
I could really use that money. So would my mother and sister.”

“May I ask again, then: Why?”

He sighed before replying.

“Okay, this is the part where that thing about being principled and not stupid is
going to come back to bite me in the butt. Well, Ms. Azel, I don’t want your
lawsuit money because it would not feel right. Sure, some people would go
through what I went through today and think that entitles them to some form
of compensation. People love to think that they’re owed something. But life
has taught me that we are not. A man is not owed a damned thing except to
that for which he has worked. Nothing more. Nothing less. And sometimes…
Not even that.”

Ms. Azel smiled, still amused, as she patted Mutsuki on the leg amiably
a couple of times and then got up the infirmary bed and resumed her
all-business attitude from before.

“Well, you are right on one count, Mr. Mutsuki: I do think you are stupid. Very
much so.”

While he wasn’t being complemented or anything, Mutsuki could not help but
smile, as he always did in these situations.

“Thanks for your candor, Ms. Azel. I guess…”

“Oh, that is what I’m here for Mr. Mutstupid. It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Ms. Azel responded, very amused with herself for that play on words as she
picked up the chart once again and looked for a piece of info.

“Now, while those quacks did give you a mostly clean bill of health, they do
advise you stay in observation for a while longer. Get a few more tests done.
Concussions can get serious if taken lightly after all. So, if you need to call
anyone, let them know you’re fine, now would be the time to do so. But keep
it brief and non-descript. Not that you have much of a choice, since you’re
already under our general NDA terms. No snitching! Capiche? Also, since
you’ll be staying because of us, the Uma Corporation will be more than happy
to provide you lunch should you want it. Again, just tell me and we’ll order from
any restaurant or establishment of your choosing.”

“That is very kind of the Uma Corporation. Let me think about that.”

“Sure. And again, please remember: We will be picking up the tab so feel well
within your right to splurge a bit on our coin.”

Ms. Azel once again smiled at Mutsuki and, yet again, he could not help but
to smile back, even when he knew she was doing it mockingly.

“And, last item on the agenda, while you were stupid enough to refuse even
discussing the possibility of a settlement deal in regards to today’s events,
and let me just point out that there were some very juicy options we had in
our pocket for you, all of which are now sadly off the table, I can’t help but
feel there should be a small measure of remuneration for you today. Must be
one of those pesky ‘conscience’ things I keep hearing about. So… The Uma
Corporation has already agreed to pick up the tab for your medical bills, so if
any additional treatment is required, please go ahead and get the best doctors
money can buy. We don’t care. Want to get a solid, 24 karat gold tooth to
replace the one we broke? You go ahead and do that! You could get a whole
grill while you’re at it! Pepper it with some diamonds. You’ll look incredibly
gangsta. But that is all par for the course in these cases, so I think a little extra
something would do the trick. So, once the white coats say you’re ready to
leave the building, please pass by the front lobby. You know, the one you
destroyed, and when you return your visitor’s badge, ask one of the
receptionists for your money.”

That last part caught Mutsuki’s by surprise.

“I’m sorry, money? What money? I said I’m not suing you!”

“Yes, dum-dum. We’ve established this. I’m doing you a kindness. It’s not
something I do every day, so I would advise that you abuse my generosity.
Okay?”

Ms. Azel got close enough to touch Mutsuki on the nose playfully with the tip
of her finger, making him genuinely smile, which seemed to also amuse her.

“So for now, rest. Take it easy. The lab coats will be back later for some
more tests. Oh, and I’ll also need you to sign some papers.”

“Some papers” ended up being 50 solid pages of text that, while Mutsuki could
have sat down and read whole without issue, he was in fact a fast reader, was
written in such dense and overcomplicated legalese that he wouldn’t have
understood half of it even through multiple read throughs.

He decided to give up around page 10 and just scanned the document quickly,
making sure he wasn’t signing something ridiculous.

“You have a pen?”

“Oh, boy. Do I.” Ms. Azel said, picking a nice, ornate fountain pen from her
suit’s front pocket. “Filled her up right before coming here. Just for you.”

Mutsuki picked up the pen, admiring it for a moment.

“You want to sign on pages 5, 8, 15, 24, 37, 42 and 50. That one will need your
initials as well.” Ms. Azel guided him through the document, pointing on each
page where he should sign. “No, not there! The line below that one. Yes, there.
And… That’s all she wrote. All legal matters have been duly covered.”

She quickly took both the heavy document and her fountain pen from Mutsuki’s
hands, putting the pen back in her pocket and, for some reason, bringing out
another pen to add her signature to the last page as well.

Ms. Azel smiled and winked while she took the bundle of legal papers, the chart
she was given by the doctors and one of the many cups of coffee that had been
left there, sipping and humming approvingly at its taste before reaching for the
door.

“And with business all done, we can get into some pleasure. Let me know when
you’re feeling hungry. I could honestly go for some eel. Or maybe sushi? I’ve
heard this year’s toro is nice and fatty. Though it does feel like a good day for
meat.”

She turned the handle, crossed the threshold, then looked back one last time.

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Mutstupid. I’ll see you around.”

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Mutsuki would see Ms. Azel that day. After taking a well
deserved nap and using the room’s handy intercom system to ask for lunch,
he ended up settling for udon since it had been a while, it was one of those nice
people with the light blue pants and vest who brought him his steaming bowl
and bottled oolong tea.

He took the opportunity to ask for the poor man he’d fallen atop of at the lobby.

“Oh, please don’t worry about him. You did knock the wind right out of him, but
he was not seriously harmed in any way and won’t need to be decommissioned.”
the man, who had one of those 7/3 hairstyles told him, smiling.

“That's… Good. Good to know. Thanks…” Mutsuki replied, concerned with
what the man had meant by “decommissioned” as well as generally freaked
by his cheery disposition just as he had been with every one of the light blue
uniformed employees he had spoken with today.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your meal!”

After lunch, all 3 doctors were back, profusely apologizing for their previous
behavior and then taking the rest of the afternoon to conduct some tests and
exams on him. And throughout the whole ordeal, Mutsuki couldn’t help but
notice a pot of hot coffee, sitting on a table, never too far away. Its aroma
extending through the entire room.

With blood, urine and stool tests coming back “clean”, in the words of the
doctors, Mutsuki was finally given the okay to go home.

He had been given back his suit, still pretty roughed up from the entire ordeal,
yet not ruined in any way. A decent tailor would surely be able to make it look
good as new. They’d even gone back up to retrieve his jacket.

Fully dressed, but looking completely disheveled, Mutsuki was escorted back
to the building’s main lobby, which by that point looked exactly as it did that
morning, as if nothing had happened there.

By that point, the sun had finally gone down and the city outside the window
was showered in bright white dots of light with smaller speckles of neon colors
floating around them.

Mutsuki was surprised to see that even at that late hour, people were still
coming in for job interviews, which were being handled right there in the lobby,
as the amount of people had become more manageable, with people hanging
around the lobby, waiting their turn to be interviewed in the low coffee table
areas.

“That’s still a lot of people… I wonder why they didn’t come in earlier?”

Mutsuki asked himself, innocently.

Or at least that is what he thought before the acoustic equivalent of a
pall-peen hammer to the knees hit him from behind in the form of a raucous
snort, causing opportunity attack damage and leaving him prone.

Not “prone” prone as in actually prone, but in-game prone. Figuratively prone.

Mutsuki looked back and saw two angry, angular pupils looking at him from
behind square, frameless glasses belonging to a woman who was leaning
against one of the many support columns that peppered the room with her
arms crossed. She was chewing on an unlit cigarette with an expression
that could only be described as “profoundly upset”.

Her hair was done in a ponytail pulled so tight not a single hair in her head
was out of place. Her lips were painted in a dark red color and wore heavy
eyeshadow, almost making her look like a rabid tanuki. She was still wearing
her coat while indoors, which covered most of her outfit except for her army
green high heeled shoes and tan colored pantyhose.

“I’m… Sorry?” Mutsuki replied, feeling the animosity radiate out of her in
waves.

“Look at Mr. Independently Wealthy here making fun of the little people!
Must be fun spending all day lying down on the floor with the tv on, letting
tou-chan and kaa-chan bust their humps to put your food on their table, uh?”

“Excuse me, but if I said anyth---” Mutsuki spoke, trying to deescalate the
situation, but the woman simply talked over him, not caring for anything he
had to say.

“Listen, Captain Freeter. Some people couldn’t just take their whole day off to
come here early. Not even if they wanted to. All the early birds were nothing
more than dilettantes and huge, fat nobodies that are showing first hand how
desperate and in the dumps they are. They came here and wasted their whole
day because they either have no working ethic and ditched their jobs, or are
good-for-nothing wastes of human flesh and skin with nothing better to do.
Meanwhile, all of us in this room, except for your broke henohenomoheji ass
apparently, had to actually work our regular jobs before coming here and putting
in a lot of after-hours elbow grease. Not that you know anything about that by the
looks of it. Did you just come from a funeral? Who the fuck wears an all black suit
to a job interview, idiot? You think a recruiter is going to remember that? No. You
know who they’ll remember: That sharply dressed, quick witted, no-nonsense
young woman who came in late after a hard day of work at her crappy job and
still impressed the crap out of everyone she spoke with. Also, that’s just how
memory works. I’m easier to remember coming now than whatever stuffed bimbo
came in 10 hours ago dressed to impress. It's a solid strategy. So there. You’ve
been thoroughly educated. Now get the hell out of here. I don’t want your
lameness to rub off.”

Mutsuki, still shocked from the savagery of the woman’s comments, wasn't sure
how to even begin to reply, but a voice coming from one of the small coffee table
areas saved him from having to think about it any further.

“#17500! #17500, Yonemura Suzume. Please approach table #13!”

“Ugh! Finally,” the woman replied, walking while taking off her coat and also
pushing Mutsuki with one hand, making him falter and take a step back.
“Out of my way, loser.”

Mutsuki watched her walk with long, confident strides, meeting with the
recruiter and then politely bowing before she was shown the couch and
the interview began in earnest.

“Well… Hope she gets it.”

Even if her anger at him had been misplaced or misinformed, it was clear that
Ms. Yonemura had passion and drive. He was sure she would get whatever
position she applied for.

As for him, it was time for Mutsuki to make his way home, but there was still
one last stop before that. Or at least, that is what he thought.

“Mr. Mutsuki! Mr. Mutsuki! Over here, please!”

He immediately recognized the man who was calling out as Mr. Shibata, still looking dapper even without his suit’s jacket, and as he did, he started walking in his direction in a hurry.

“Mr. Shibata! I am so sorry, I can’t believe I just remembered about you and Mr. Kamimura! Is he okay?”

Mr. Shibata smiled, clearly touched by Mutsuki’s concern.

“Please. No apologies needed. Not from you. Ever. In fact, Doumu is the reason why I’m here.”

As he talked, Mr. Shibata pointed in the direction of one of those coffee table areas. The one farthest away from the entrance. From were they stood, Mutsuki could clearly see a figure already sitting there.

Without another word, he followed Mr. Shibata to find a very tired looking and disheveled, but mostly fine Mr. Kamimura.

As he had been just a few minutes ago, Mr. Kamimura was dressed in a hospital gown, though he was also still wearing his husband’s jacket. He was connected to an IV drip full with a neon yellow liquid and was holding a hefty thermos on his left hand.

“Mr. Mutsuki.” Mr. Kamimura said in a very apologetic tone. “Thank you so very much for agreeing to meet with me. Considering everything that happened---”

“Please, Mr. Kamimura, don’t apologize. Like I was saying before, you tried to warm me. Whatever happened, it was not your fault.”

Still sitting, and looking too tired to even attempt to stand up, Mr. Kamimura quietly bowed until his forehead touched the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Mutsuki. Thank you for this gesture”.

Feeling his presence was no longer necessary, Mr. Shibata excused himself and left the two men alone. The silence extended only as long as Mr. Kamimura took his next sip of coffee.

“I know that our interview was… Crudely interrupted. Still, I could not let it
conclude like that. You deserve… Much better than that. So, let me just be
brief and cut to the chase…”

Mr. Kamimura made an effort to edge himself as much as he could from his seat, and extended his left hand.

“Welcome to the Uma Corporation, son.”

Mutsuki looked down at Mr. Kamimura’s hand. Then at his face.

He had already gone through so much that day that his brain wasn’t capable
of comprehending what he had just heard, so he just stared at Mr. Kamimura
for a long while with a dumbfounded look on his face until, finally, somewhere
within himself, someone found the switch that powered his consciousness
and turned it off and then back on again.

“I-I-I-I beg your pardon?”

Mr. Kamimura smiled, remembering what they had discussed moments prior
to everything that happened, now having a more rounded profile of this young
man.

“You got the job. Congratulations!”

Mr. Kamimura extended his hand again and waited for a handshake that
never came.

“I… I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

“But… How?” asked Mutsuki, incredulous.

At that, Mr. Kamimura couldn’t help but chuckle and look back at the young
man in disbelief.

“How? Mr. Mutsuki… You survived a Code Red-2 partial release of a…
Ahem... ‘Mutated bio-entity’. Better yet, you managed to contain it. Non-lethally,
I might add, and while causing no human casualties. Though you did demolish
the 27-C call center. Well… I did... Be that as it may, you managed to orientate
yourself within our building having been here only once. You proved to be
resourceful and resilient, as well as having an eye for detail and working well
under severe pressure. But above all else, I don’t think in the entire history of
this company has our background research team contacted 38 different
references and not a single one of them had a bad thing to say about you.
They all unilaterally asked us to please give you whatever job you asked for.”

Mutsuki was not at all used to being complemented. In fact, a small part of him
actually hated it and always made him feel very uncomfortable.Still, he was
happy to hear that everyone had come through for him and that his small effort
had paid up in the end.

Except...

“38? I only gave you 35.”

At that, Mr Kamimura smiled wryly. He had been expecting that question.

“We are nothing if not thorough, Mr. Mutsuki. And like I said: All of them
vouched for you.”

“I… I just… I don’t…”

Mutsuki was stuck. Trying to say everything he was feeling at once but unable
to complete a single thought. He stayed quiet, afraid he would start crying if he
tried to say anything else.

Satisfied, Mr. Kamimura edged himself just a bit further, until his hand could
make contact with his knee.

His grip was strong and heartfelt.

“We’ll see you on Monday.”

Mutsuki was very thankful that they had chosen a meeting place so far away
from everyone. It allowed him to take some time to compose himself after the
good news, once Mr. Shibata came back for Mr. Kamimura and both said their
goodbyes and thanked him yet again for everything he’d done.

“You may always think of us as allies within these walls, Mr. Mutsuki. We both
owe you. Deeply.”

Once he finally managed to rein himself in, he stood up, breathed deeply and
walked straight to the lobby’s front desk, where he was thankful to spot two
lovely ladies, neither one dressed in light blue uniforms. By the time he made it
to one of them, he already had his badge in hand.

“Good evening. I was told I needed to return this before leaving?”

“Good evening Mr. Mutsuki. Yes, we were informed you would be showing up.
I hope you’re feeling better?”

“I am. Thanks.”

“We’re all glad to hear! Now, first, congratulations on your new position with
the Uma Corporation. We all hope this is the beginning of a long working
relationship!”

“Again, thank you.” Mutsuki said, controlling himself.

“Now, second, the legal department said that while they would have preferred to
digitally transfer this to you, since you’re a brand new hire, your company bank
account has not been set up yet, so they told us to just give you this.”

The receptionist placed in front of him a fat, brown manilla envelope.

“Please make sure it’s all there before you go. We insist.”

‘Uhm… Sure.” he said, opening the envelope. “How much is there supposed
to be in here?”

“1 million yen.” the receptionist replied at the same time as Mutsuki’s hand let
go of the envelope, after seeing the fat stack of 10,000 yen notes neatly tucked
within.

“I… How much???”