Do you believe in fate

3 months later

The crowd burst into uproarious laughter followed by scattered applause. The scene on stage was a play from an unknown writer who was trying to break into the mainstream. For an early attempt in his career, the play was well written and paced, with the beats hitting at all the right moments. A man in a polo and jeans was sitting in one the back rows, separated from people but still a participant of the religion of live entertainment. Another good scene had wrapped up and he clapped along in agreement to the rest of the applause in the theater. From a door by the stoors, a person slipped in largely unnoticed. They spotted the man by his very shiny head, and walked over and sat down next to him. The man took notice of their presence with mild glee and amusement.

“I see. I see you’re doing well. You know, a few months ago I was preparing to tear down this entire plaza. In the end I decided not to go through with it. Maybe I’m more of a sentimental guy than I let on. But I was just thinking, if places are like people, they might have memories too. I wonder if this building recognizes me whenever I enter. If it knows how much it meant to me all these years. I wasn’t much older than you when I wanted to be an actor. But I wasn’t cut out for theatre. But acting in front of others, in my line of work, in business, in politics, now that came very naturally.”

An unforeseen twist in the stage play caused the audience to gasp. He glanced at the stage curiously and continued talking to the person sitting next to him, who has still said nothing.

“I guess I owe you a few things. Money. An apology. An explanation.”

The person sitting next to him still said nothing.

“In the end I guess it’s for the best if the world stays unaware. If they think everything’s a play and everyone’s just an actor. If everyone plays their parts, especially the minor characters, then no one will notice when things get a little too real.”

A voice finally came from the person sitting next to him. It was surprisingly soft and gentle, with no air of malice.

“Mr. Datsumo, do you believe in fate?” Right after this question was asked, the audience broke out into thunderous applause. There was, apparently, a very satisfying turn of events on stage.

In District 3, the sun had finally started to set. An older man was sweeping the front of his shop, getting ready to close for the day. He heard footsteps coming down the sidewalk. He tried to look to see who it was, but he was walking from the same direction that the sun was facing, and through his squinting, he was only able to see the tall silhouette of a man walking towards him. As he got closer the old man, mildly intimidated by his stature, began to tense up slightly. He stopped in front of him, and a surprisingly friendly voice came from it.

“Are you Mr. Hayashi?”

The old man nodded, “y- yes I am. What can I do for you young man?”

The silhouette of an arm extended from the sun and held out an envelope.

“This is for you.”

“For me? Th-thank you. Who is it from, if I may ask?”

The silhouette didn’t reply, and merely turned around and began walking back down the road, the towering silhouette now becoming smaller and smaller.

Mr. Hayashi entered his store and walked over to the counter. He examined the letter and found no name or address.

He opened the letter somewhat apprehensively, and money fell out along with a single scrap of paper. He picked up the piece of paper with some scribbles on it, but he managed to make out what it read.

“Ths is payment for the F-Diver. Thanks again - Mr. Yamada”

Mr. Hayashi vaguely remembered a Mr. Yamada, and a jolt in his memory remembered the young man that stole his F-Diver with a fake credit card. He counted the money that fell from the envelope.

A loud scream resonated through the streets of District 3, and it came from none other than Mr. Hayashi.

“BUT THIS DOESN’T EVEN COVER HALF OF ONE!!!”