Mission: Observation

The cafeteria’s Oyakodon had passed Takeshi’s test. Taste was irrelevant to him. It passed because it did exactly what it was supposed to do: serve as fuel. The sauce was slightly sweet, the rice had been sitting in the cooker too long, and the chicken was a bit tough.

Exactly 612 kcal. Sufficient across the board. Energy supply secured.

Most people see food as something to celebrate. People gather, eat, talk, and laugh together, like during family gatherings or meetings with friends. Sometimes it warms you on cold days or refreshes you on hot ones. Food is meant to be enjoyed. It’s a craft, an art.

But not for Takeshi. For him, it was survival, a necessity to satisfy the instinct of self-preservation. Nothing more, nothing less.

He sat at a table in the farthest corner of the cafeteria with his back to the wall. That way, he felt safe. A wall behind you meant one less angle to monitor. Something he was always mindful of. Anything else made you vulnerable. A situation he couldn’t afford. It had always been that way.

Many of the tables were old and clearly worn, while others were newer and less faded. It was obvious which had been bought later. To his right came the faint hum of two vending machines, one of them broken, its "Out of Order" sign already curling at the edges. The harsh fluorescent lighting did little to create a cozy atmosphere.

That sign had been curling for ages. No one is going to fix it soon.

His gaze stayed on the bowl before him, however, his attention was elsewhere. His eyes stayed still, but his ears roamed.

The cafeteria was a mesh of voices. Laughter, curses, jokes, animated conversations, and some whose body language spoke more than their words. Some stared at a smartphone together, gesturing wildly, and others sat in silence, constantly scrolling. The smells of food blended into something vague and stale, made worse by the heavy heat.

These two clearly missed the entire point of social interaction. But that’s just how it is. You sit together, yet you couldn’t be further apart. Back at the military academy, I read a report claiming that people who quit using smartphones daily became happier. Conclusion: Social media is our favorite poison.

A nearby newer table was occupied, and a group of boys were caught up in lively conversation.

“Hey, hey! What’d you guys do over break? I was buried in those stupid piles of homework. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing and had to study like crazy. I hated it...” one of them groaned dramatically.

“Well, that’s your own fault for doing nothing all year. I’m surprised you even passed last year’s finals,” another one shot back.

“Grr! I-I worked really hard last year!” he stood up, A hint of desperation in his voice, as if trying to prove his point.

“yeah… right… Your results say otherwise...”

“Yeah! You’d almost think you were actually dumb! Hahaha!” a third laughed mockingly.

Tsk. Grades and test scores have nothing to do with intelligence. Grades just reflect knowledge level. Nothing more.

“Urgh, leave me alone!” he groaned, slumping back down and stirring wildly in his rice.

“Hey, Yuki, you haven’t said anything. What happened with you and Kaede?” The boys grinned widely.

“Yeah! Spill it! Weren’t you two on a date or something?”

Yuki, however, wasn’t smiling. He looked a bit awkward, searching for the right words.

The fact that they even have to ask... If it had gone well, they’d already know. Seems like it didn’t.

“Haaah... we went out. Did some shopping and stuff. I thought it was going okay… But in the end, I asked her out, and she turned me down. Said I was too short. I mean… I’m taller than her!”

Love, huh? Never experienced it. Back in the old days, any relationships were forbidden. Missions are in danger otherwise. Probably, because it’s just another inefficient variable you can’t control. Unreliable and irrationalizing. 

“Oof... that sucks. Hang in there! One day the girls will be all over us! Bwahaha!”

“With your face? Dream on!” Yuki shot back sarcastically.

“Hey! I’m not the one who got rejected, remember?”

The group’s laughter echoed through the room. Takeshi looked up and scanned the room, and noticed a girl at the food counter trying to carry two trays at once. One in her hands, the other squeezed between her forearms. Every step was a risk.

It’s obvious how hard you’re squeezing that tray between your arms. Unstable, poorly balanced, no room for adjustments. Unsteady steps. Too much force. Less would allow more movement. This won’t work...

Proof in 3... 2...

He lowered his gaze for another spoonful of Oyakodon before finishing the countdown.

Why didn’t she ask someone to help? That’s what comrades are for…

A dull thud, the clatter of utensils, and the unpleasant squish of rice hitting the linoleum floor. Takeshi’s eyes remained on his meal. As if nothing had happened, he kept eating. Mechanically, unbothered by the scene before him.

The cafeteria fell silent. Some looked away, others whispered, some chuckled behind their hands.

As expected. Humans are as predictable as a formula. Always the same result.

The tray lay spilled at the far end of the room. The girl stood before the mess, visibly embarrassed, unsure how to react. She looked around frantically, seeking help. The woman behind the food counter, Takeshi guessed she was about fifty, hurried out of the kitchen. Armed with a dustpan and broom, she made her way quickly to the mess.

“Don’t worry about it, kid! Here... grab the broom and help me out.”

Still flustered, the girl took the broom, and the two started cleaning. After a few seconds, the cafeteria returned to its usual bustle. The boys resumed their noisy banter, and everyone’s eyes returned to their meals and conversations.

The girl thanked the older woman, and the woman gave her a kind smile. She quickly left the cafeteria.

Probably too embarrassed to sit down now. Not all eyes have turned away yet. Haaah... like it couldn’t happen to any of you.

Takeshi noticed a group of teachers sitting three tables away. He recognized the back of Igurashi’s head, or more of what’s left of his balding hair.

The shoulder pads of his suit were worn out, the dull brown color faded as if it was washed too hot too often, and the sun had done the rest. His tie looked like an antique relic. Cracked leather shoes and brittle laces. Completely out of time. And somehow it fits him.

Sitting diagonally across was Shizuka Maki. She was the complete opposite of Igurashi. Her outfit was deliberately chosen. A white blouse tailored to her slim figure, a navy-blue skirt that fell just above the knee, paired with simple but elegant ankle boots.

Her formal attire couldn’t hide her striking figure, and her almost porcelain-white skin stood in contrast to the color of her clothes.

Her dark hair shimmered with a bluish sheen, tied into a neat ponytail. Her posture was near perfect, as if she’d trained for years.

Looks like she went to a manners school. Odd for a teacher, especially in a rural place like this. Good manners aren’t really needed here. But with her... It feels natural and yet forced. But that’s nothing I should get involved with. I’m here to teach.

Takeshi kept watching her, not quite sure why. Sunlight danced across her face as she giggled with Ms. Suginami. The ceiling lights reflected off his spoon. Seeing Shizuka like this stirred an unfamiliar feeling. The thought of always having to talk, meet expectations, and adapt. It felt exhausting just imagining it.

There are two kinds of people. For some, talking is profit. For me, it’s loss. They collect coins. I lose coins. That’s why I avoid it.

Right before his gaze fell back to his meal, their eyes met. Shizuka looked straight at him. She smiled warmly, lifted her hand hesitantly, and gave a small wave. He had seen her and lowered his eyes, focusing on his food.

Somewhere beside him, a coin dropped. Maybe only in his head.

But one thing was certain. His pouch was lighter.

And that would not be the last time.