Chapter 5 After school

Shortly after the final bell rang, I stumbled out into the warm, afternoon air. My head was pounding with information, too much of it. It had only been one day, and already I felt as though I had lived a week. And tomorrow, it would all start over again. However, I didn't let that thought hold me back. Ever since I was forced to move to America, I've had many thoughts like that. But now I was free from that life. And I intended to take full advantage of it.

On the walk back from school, I noticed a bicycle chained to a fence, a simple paper sign taped to the handlebars.

“For sale ¥20,000. Lock included.”

The frame was still in good shape, paint hardly faded, but the padlock around it had clearly seen better days. The plastic lock casing was scratched and clearly worn and the shackle was no different, yet it still held firm.

I slipped a hand into my pocket, feeling the wallet the new hire had given me. Inside was a fake ID I had no intention of ever showing, a Pursuit Bank credit card, a debit card that might not even work here, three hundred U.S. dollars that felt more like dead weight than currency, and a city transport card that was just as useless as the rest.

It wasn’t much, but it was what I had. The worn lock clinging stubbornly to the bike reminded me of that. Not perfect, not reliable forever, but hopefully enough for now.

I made it back to my apartment by 15:38. The clock’s digits stuck in my mind, though I couldn’t have said why. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I started rummaging through the place like a man possessed.

On my desk I found ¥600 in loose coins, along with my old wallet. Inside it sat another $40 and my real ID, familiar, ordinary things that almost felt strange after the day I’d had.

Then my eyes fell on the suitcase. I had no idea how it had ended up here. Someone must have brought it for me, but who? Kneeling down, I unzipped it slowly — half-expecting it to vanish in front of me.

Inside was a scattering of my life: my laptop, a handful of worn changes of clothes, and, oddly enough, several new ones, tags still dangling. My old cracked phone lay beside its charger, both tucked in securely. Buried in one corner was my no K.I. 2821 flip phone, the one I had been holding on to since I was 3.

And then there were two things that made me pause. First, an envelope stamped with bold lettering: “Do not open until the 1st of May, 2022.” I stared at it, tempted to tear it open right then and there. But the weight of the words kept my hands still.

The second was… my teddy bear. Old, frayed, and humiliating to still own, let alone find tucked into my suitcase. However I felt my face warm as if someone else could see me holding it. Yet, in a strange way, its presence steadied me more than anything else.

After I finished unpacking my suitcase, I set up my laptop on my desk. My intention was to go to the pursuit banks website to check if my bank account exists. And to see how much money is in it. And if I could convert that money into yen.

After I finished unpacking the suitcase, I set up my laptop on the desk. However, just as I was opening it, a note fell out. I put it to the side and focused on my main objective. The first thing I wanted to check was my Pursuit Bank account. If it existed at this time, then I’d at least know I had some kind of footing. If not, then all I had were 600 yen and 340 dollars.

The website loaded quickly enough. I typed in my login carefully, triple-checking each character. When the page finally opened and accepted my credentials, I felt a small, steady wave of relief. The account was there. The balance was quite large for somebody my age, but modest in the grand scheme of things: $4,150.

I then proceeded to scramble all over the website looking for a way to convert my dollars into yen. After something like 10 minutes of searching, I found it. My cursor was directly over the button when an idea popped into my head. Maybe this could be a scam. The conversion rate was about 5% but at that moment I very clearly remember my parents not needing to change currencies when they travel abroad.

Then I looked up. “Do debit and credit cards automatically convert currencies when in different countries?” And apparently all I needed to do was just go to the Bank's website and enable “always enable local currency.” Which I subsequently did.

I leaned back in the chair and let out a sigh of relief I hadn’t realized I was holding. I just saved $207.50 in conversion fees.

Later that afternoon

At 16:22 I went back outside to go purchase the bike. I had also consolidated my possessions. From now on, I’d leave my fake ID at home. However I would continue to use the new wallet the new hire gave me. And in it I placed my real ID and the two bank cards I have from Pursuit Bank.

In addition, the note I’d found in my laptop held a series of insightful yet ominous instructions written by my future self.

When you purchase the bike, do not contact the seller until 16:30.

Set the spending limit on your Pursuit Bank credit card to $500.

Feel free to spend a little, but do not become lazy or decadent. You are free to relax (you escaped America and its rat race) but remember to preserve discipline and the ability to reject temptation. These are not skills you should neglect or allow to rot.

At the end of each week, always pay off all your debts so you do not accrue interest.

The Headmaster will call you (along with some of your classmates) to help with a new transfer student who will be arriving soon.

The new student is extraordinarily brilliant in the subjects taught at the school, but she is not mentally well.

Put up with Saki’s tendencies, and help her in her moments of need. She will appreciate it and she will help you later.

Remember to drain the Clone bottle into a plastic bag. Airport security will confiscate it.

On August 21st, remember to raise the spending limit to $1,000.

You will soon be in need of cash. When that time comes, log in to DB300@VMail.com. You will find a bookmark in the top-left corner of the account: a cryptocurrency trading site. Click on it. You will find that the assets stored there are enough to last through the remainder of your stay at the school — but use this only as a last resort. You do not know how much you will receive.

While the great majority of these scenarios were not yet relevant to me, I decided that I’d start with the first two.

The first was simple: don’t contact the seller until 16:30. By the time I stepped outside, it was already 16:22, the late afternoon sun slanting across the street, stretching the shadows thin. I walked at a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow, rehearsing the steps in my mind as if they needed precision. Wallet in my pocket, phone at the ready, but silent.

As I was walking to the seller’s house, I thought to myself. This was kind of weird. Normally, I would have called ahead or even messaged the seller that I was on my way. But this was different. I kept the phone tucked away and let the minutes carry me forward.

By the time I reached the address, my screen read 16:26. I stood there waiting awkwardly. I paced around the block, trying to look like I had somewhere to be.

When 16:30 blinked onto the display, I climbed the steps and knocked.

The door opened after a short delay. The seller, hair damp and towel slung loosely over his shoulders, gave me a quick, apologetic glance. “Good timing,” he said casually. “If you’d knocked a couple minutes earlier, I’d have chewed you out, I was still in the shower.”

I nodded, though inside, the weight of the note pressed harder. My future self had known this even down to the minute. Regardless I carried on with business. I asked “Do you accept card by any chance?” Much to my shock, his response was, “Yes.”

Then I tapped my credit card against his phone and the bicycle was mine.

The seller then handed me the keys. Then he gestured toward the bike. “Its frame has a few scratches, but it is sturdy. And even though it isn’t winning any beauty contests, it looks decent. It is also practical, the gears run smoothly. I’ve kept the chain oiled, and it should get you where you need to go.”

After bidding farewell to the seller, I rode the bicycle back to my apartment, where I then locked it up by a chicken wire fence located on the side of my apartment. in an area that was shaded from both sun and rain, yet still in full view of the street.

Once I made it back to my room I then carried out the second instruction to set the credit card limit at $500. This one felt a bit strange, mostly because I had never even considered having that sort of control before. I had opened a bank account once, though only at my parents’ insistence. I never used it much, nor did I ever put any real amount of money into it.

So I opened the Pursuit Bank site again on my laptop and navigated through the menus. There it was, just as the note said: a place to set a spending limit. I typed in the number 500, double-checked it, and hit confirm. A little green checkmark appeared. And that was it. I then leaned back in my chair, stretched my arms out, and decided to do nothing for the rest of the day.