Black Hair

Kenichiro’s eyes glazed over, the numbers and characters all blending into a pile on his screen. His fingers sprawled across the keyboard with wild abandon, his hands moving while his mind vacated. Was today Tuesday? Wednesday? Friday? And what week of what month? The days had all blended together like the letters and numbers, the lines of time and space blurring like his vision. “Exhaustion” was like a friend to him now, a constant companion sitting on his shoulder.

Menial math and habit fueled his pace as the screen scrolled down empty margins, accounts to be balanced, well those that were left. Before he was even born, Ishiba Electronics was in decline, the first lost decade wiping out half of their accounts, and the second and third impact chipped away at their bottom line until they hung on by a string. Only such a destitute institution would hire an accounting minor like him, whereas his major was studying the rich folklore of his country.

If only the future was as promising as the past, the thought idly passed through his skull as his fingers flew. He wondered sometimes why he even bothered with this pace, knowing full well that Ishiba would not award talent or effort, this company having turned black long ago. They were simply squeezing him dry, and as soon as he was truly spent they would dispose of him like an old sponge. But if he lost this job, who else would take him? And how would he afford rent, let alone food? He was already skipping meals. The letters crawled across his screen like chitinous insects, their sharp angles and geometry reminding him of summer beetles in a childhood long past. He felt his stomach churn; he couldn’t tell if it was from starvation or the imagery of bugs covering his screen. His pace stalled as his nausea and disgust increased, yet the screen continued scrolling, the numbers spilling out of their columns, hiragana, katakana, kanji clumping together into slender limbs and bulging bellies. Overtime is starting to get to me, Kenichiro justified, yet as he stood from his desk the computer continued scrolling, the images on screen turning from the implications of insects to rendered animated creatures.

The bugs bumped against the border of the monitor, its antenna and claws picking at the edge of the screen. Eventually, impossibly, the insects peeled back the screen like cellophane, escaping the confines of pixelated life to enter his office. He screamed in terror and started swatting at his computer, attempting to crush the insects. In his frantic state he didn't notice his co-workers coming over to his desk to restrain him. He struggled against two older men holding back his arms, his vision blurred in terror and fatigue. Once Kenichiro regained his senses, he realized he had trashed his own monitor, the screen cracked in two and the holes he thought a swarm was leaking from were in fact created by his own hands. Hot breath flowed from his mouth as he saw his colleagues stare in concern and terror at what he had done. With neither terror nor concern on his face was his boss, Ryo, his bald head like a bright red tomato. “Kenny, office now!”

“What is wrong with you!” Ryo slapped Kenny on his head, the palm leaving a searing handprint on his scalp. “Do you know how much that computer cost? Do you think we have the money to replace that computer? Are you stupid?!” He slams his fist on the desk, the sound so loud that Kenny was almost worried about his boss’ hand. It looked red and was already swollen, he wondered if he had broken it. If he was injured, it only fueled his anger as his face turned from beet red to an almost purple color. “I give you a chance and you treat me this way, betray me? Are you insane?!” Maybe, the salaryman thought. As he accepted his superior’s abuse obediently, he saw numbers fly all around them. This was a more common hallucination he suffered, as compared to the horrifying event that had just occurred. When he got to sleep, he would dream of numbers, and when Kenny was especially tired he saw numbers covering every surface, increasing or decreasing with no discernible logic. Over his boss’ head he saw a large, negative number fluctuating up and down but mainly going into the negatives. Part of him thought about bringing it up, but even if he treated it as a joke it would be a death sentence for him to mention: the boss is King in this office, and if you step out of line it's your head on the chopping block.

He had been slapped, even hit, by his boss over the years, and yelled at more times he could count. None of that compared to now, when his boss regained his composure and the normal hue of his face. With perfect calmness he looked into Kenny’s eyes and simply stated, “I have given you enough chances I think. I will now give you two choices. You can tender your resignation immediately, or I will make your life hell here. And when I manage to make you leave, there won’t be a firm in all Japan who will take your sorry ass. I think you know what you should do.”

A lump in his throat formed, as the ground started to crumble under him. He barely understood what was happening, as his sleep addled mind tried to comprehend what he was being told. “Are you firing me?”. He felt his legs trembling under him, as weariness and panic battled inside of him.

“We haven’t fired anyone in our 40 years of operation,” Ryo assured, seeming to have calmed down. He was always loud and irate when he was barking orders or micromanaging performance, but this is what he lived for. Forcing resignations. He was good at it, perhaps this alone is why he had been the manager of this department for much of those 40 years. Every time someone “resigned” from his office, Kenny noticed that there was yelling, then almost eerie silence. After a spell his soon to be ex-coworker would walk from the office, the light snuffed from their eye, perhaps with smeared mascara hastily wiped away if they were a woman. Always Kenny wondered what happened in those terminal meetings, but now he has realized too late that he is in one right now. “You know our company has a good reputation, at least with the big-wigs. Our CEO makes great pains to keep face for everyone here, going to the right parties, greasing the right palms, so that we can all keep our heads high and work with pride, even though the company is sinking into hell” He spoke the words with quiet conviction, the quiver in his voice making it seem almost believable. Yet Kenny saw the number stamped on Ryo’s forehead dip deeper into the negative, and perhaps the hunger, tiredness, and panic misled him but he almost thought it was a sign that his boss was lying. “I don’t know if someone like you cares at all about that, but if you want to prove you ever cared about this work you should quit now and save us all a headache”.

Even if he didn’t fully believe his words, they still struck a cord with Kenny. If he resisted and tried to keep his job, then he would only be prolonging the inevitable. He simply sank his head, nodded, bowed, and said “Yes sir”.

Walking through Tokyo at night is completely different when unemployed. He could have sworn he’d carved a rut into the concrete with how consistent his path was: from his apartment, to his office, to the local bar for a mandatory drinking party then to stagger home drunker than he wished he were. Without employment, he literally had no direction in life, the endless streets of the Megapolis metastasized before him. He began the wander, unbidden by schedule, ritual, or decorum to discipline his behavior. He browsed dozens of stores of every kind, no prejudice towards any product or pursuit. Sometimes he simply looked, shuffling about like the undead, or going on a spree through the store. Kenichiro spent unconscionable amounts of yen on food, toys, games, and countless hours in a local arcade. Like a great beast, Tokyo unhinged its jaws and swallowed him into the night.

Kenichiro found himself in a dark alley in an unknown part of town, having no clue where he was. He checked his phone and saw it had died. Last time he had checked it had been 11 PM, and it must have been later now. He sat with his arms full of bags, not even remembering everything he purchased. He would definitely not be able to pay for rent this month, but he wouldn’t have been able to afford it without a job anyway. He reached into a bag and pulled out a box of confections, remembering a time he had gifted this to his boss after a business trip. He tore open the box and threw the sweets onto the street, aiming at paint spots on the ground. Once the box was exhausted he reached into his bag to find something else to amuse him, but heard scrapping behind him. Kenichiro looked behind him and saw a young woman, picking up the discarded candies and cookies and stuffing them into her mouth. What she didn’t eat she shoved into a sack by her side. Her clothes were antique and ragged, layers of discarded cloth and torn jackets all over what looked like an old Kimono. She had dirt smeared on her cheeks and it looked like she was homeless.

Kenichiro was disgusted, watching her eat sweets encrusted with dirt and trash from the ground. “Hey, that’s mine, stop that!” He marched over, the girl acting like this was the first time she noticed him.

“You threw it away, I thought you didn't want it anymore?” She asked confused, picking one up from the ground and offering it to Kenny. He was caught off guard by her innocence, but he realized she was too close for comfort. He knocked it out of her hand, the treat falling limply to the floor. “Why would I want that, it’s dirty! I didn’t throw it to season it?”

“You don’t want it”, the girl wistfully stated, trying to work it out in her head. “But you don’t want me to have it? Then who should have it?”

He couldn’t tell if the woman was dense or making a philosophical point, the ambiguity of which irritated him. He started feeling guilty for berating her, but he still didn’t want her to approach him. “Just take what you want and leave!” She looked confused, but decided to take his word for it and begin collecting the treats again. Kenichiro felt bile collect at the back of his throat and yelled: “Here take this, I’m feeling sick just watching you eat those!” He tossed one of his bags full of junk food at the girl, crashing next to the homeless woman. She flinched, the attack disturbing her placid expression. She cowered with her head in her hands, but after a spell she looked down hesitantly at the aggressive gift she received. “If it wasn’t obvious I’m not hungry, take it and get out of here!” Startled by his mixed signals, she grabbed the bag and ran into a wall. When she disappeared Kenichiro blinked, trying to figure out where she went. He walked over to where she had vanished to find only a tight gap, not even a millimeter wide. Kenichiro scoured up and down the alley, yet there was no sign of the girl. Yet when he examined the small gap between the two buildings, he found strands of black hair wedged between. As he felt the thin threads run through his finger, he had realized he had truly lost his mind.