Assessment Two, Pt. 1

Whoever thought to combine maid outfits and fry stations deserved a special place in hell.

See, Hayami worked at a place called MaidExpress, a subsidiary of MaidCafes. All those years ago, when that interviewer said that while she wasn’t good enough for MaidCafes, they were expanding to the fast food industry, she nipped it in the bud, thinking that was all she was worth.

A truly dignified workplace for a girl of her talents.

They said her shy demeanor made her an excellent choice to work at the cashier. She was only able to form coherent sentences because she was forced into the role.

Those dirty HR bastards. They knew what they were doing!

She looked at the clock on the register. Sunday, 8 p.m.

She usually didn’t work such long hours during weekends; she’d have reserved some time for either gacha or revising.

There was a reason for that.

If there was one quality that defined Hayami, it was that she kept her word. For her Uncle, she’d make an exception.

In an attempt to stay further away from Akira, who seemed to want to hang out with her whenever he was free from Idol stuff, she volunteered for more work hours.

And to tell the truth, she also just wanted to… escape her prison of a home. Uncle was cooking her meals, yes.

She had mostly been successful in that endeavor. It was for Akira’s own good to stay out of her business and not have to worry about her. As Lesson Two was trying to teach her, she was ‘respecting others’.

Her conscience wouldn’t be guilty for bailing on their ‘friendship’, right? He respected her by being honest about his situation, and they respected each other by agreeing at the outset that they would only remain friends.

Friends didn’t constantly have to be near each other.

Speaking of Akira, he’s really made her life a living hell at work.

Her boss had initially decided that, for "sanitary reasons", she was allowed to wear a surgical face mask at all times. Now, her boss begged her to keep it on, lest their chain become swarmed by the Akira crowd.

For three weeks, that white square of fabric had been her shield.

But unfortunately, a mask was no match for the weaponized autism of other people.

The chime of someone walking through the front doors pulled her out of her thoughts.

A guy holding a phone on a stabilizer gimbal waltzed in.

“Oh my god, you guys… we made it! Ahh!” the streamer half-whispered, half-screamed, aiming the camera lens right at the counter. “I made the pilgrimage to the Shrine of Akira.”

Hayami froze behind the register.

“Why call it the Shrine? Well, dear uninformed viewer, this is not just any MaidExpress location. The dedicated forums deduced the location from the background reflection in that one photo,” the girl narrated. “Rumor has it.. that Schrödinger’s Girlfriend of his works right here. Let’s see if we can get a wave!”

She ducked down.

‘Crap…! If a superfan like that saw me, it’s game over!’

“Hayami.”

She looked up. Her boss had walked out of the assembly station.

“Y-Yes?” she squeaked from the floor.

“Customer.”

“Oh? Y-Yes, okay. Sorry!”

She didn’t want things to crumble so soon. But she should have known this would happen eventually. It’s been three weeks since she’d met that damnable liar, after all.

Now, people on the internet will analyze every inch of her bone structure to determine where she lived, and her boss would kick her out for causing a disruption to her co-workers’ privacy!

She slowly stood up and turned toward the customer.

“H-Hello and welcome to MaidExpress Tennoji, how can I help…”

“Hayami! What’s up, dude!”

“...You.”

There stood Akira with a very bad wig and an overly large pair of sunnies.

“Are y-you c-crazy?!”

“Whoa, cool it with the negative vibes.”

She nearly leapt over the counter and covered his mouth using the palm of her hand.

The superfan walked up, waving a camera in his face. “Oh wow, you look just like him! Wanna be part of my stream? What’s your name?!”

“Yeah, uh, my name’s Anthony, brah.” ‘Anthony’ adjusted his oversized aviators while tilting his head down so that his eyes peeked from them.

“What can you tell me about your connection with Perchance to Dream and Akira in particular? That’s an incredible cosplay of him.”

“Thanks, brah. I’m actually a big fan of his, man. Like, in ways you don’t understand,” ‘Anthony’ said, leaning in uncomfortably close to the streamer. “Say, you want a sample of my homemade Akira cologne? When he got close enough to me at a handshake event, I took a deeeeep sniff. I gotta say—I got pretty close to the real thing.”

The streamer recoiled.

“R-Right… anyway, chat, we will… uh… discuss as we order some food on the self-serve kiosk over there. Can’t wait for the male maids to serve me! Hehe… Heh…zsasawx”

The streamer bolted for the corner of the store.

‘Anthony’ stared straight at her.

He dropped his character immediately. “What a bother, am I righ—wait, ahem, I mean… what a hassle. Now that she’s out of the way… I can finally have all of you to myself.”

Hayami’s cheeks flushed red, and she nearly doubled over behind the register.

“D-Don’t phrase things in such a w-way!” she hissed, checking to make sure her boss wasn’t watching. “Just find a table and I will… I’ll get someone to cover for me.”

“No,” Akira said simply. “I didn’t come all this way to get inferior service from someone who doesn’t sincerely mean a damn thing they do. I want you.”

“H-Huh?!”

Hayami wasn’t given a choice.

He walked over to a secluded booth in the back corner. Defeated, and with her heart hammering against her ribs, Hayami grabbed a notepad and followed him.

She stood by his table, smoothing her apron.

“W-Why are you here?” she asked.

Akira rested his chin on his hand, looking up at her.

“I am just sad I can’t see you on weekends anymore. Is our friendship so meaningless to you?”

“You are the one p-pushing the issue!” she seethed between her teeth. “Y-You know how you make me feel. We just need to stick to your lessons… a-and…”

“So… no time for anything but work, huh?”

“Yeah. I’d l-like more money, a-and my boss g-gave me the opportunity, so….”

“But less time for sleep.”

Akira reached out and touched her while she was definitely not ready, running across the contours of her eyebags. 

“You’re carrying all the tension right here… let me rub that.”

Hayami jerked back, her face flushing a deep crimson. “Stop! This is misogyny and it’s a serious issue!”

“Ain’t misogyny… if the person wants it.”

“Nyooo!!”

She swatted his hand away.

“I’m f-fine. I swear.”

“Sure, sure.”

After a while of pissing himself with laughter, his features softened.

“Look… I just wanted to check in. I thought it best not to call you, since you always find creative ways to hang up on me lately. So… here I am.”

“Wow, a c-celeb caring f-for a ‘commoner.’ How do I know it’s not your way of pushing me around?”

“Oh, come on, Hayami, I thought we passed this stage weeks ago. Now it’s like we’re back to square one. What’s going on?”

“It’s n-nothing,” she lied, looking at the plastic menu. “Just s-setting boundaries for myself. R-Respecting myself, r-right?”

“Respecting yourself doesn't bar you from letting a friend check up on you.”

Hayami said nothing, looking away toward the kitchen.

Akira looked at her weirdly, as if contemplating what to do next.

Then he sighed. “Alright. Never mind that. If you want to keep it that way, I will hang around until you finally tell me the truth.”

He picked up the menu.

“Now, how ready are you for the Sports Carnival tomorrow?”

“Ugh… d-don’t remind me,” she groaned. “Though, I guess I have to be. I don’t know… with my awful luck, s-something insane will p-probably happen.”

“It’s fate at this point. One thing I’m certain about is that I will be cheering for you enthusiastically.”

“Please don’t. You don’t become a m-master athlete in just a month, no matter how many times I practice with H-Hina.”

“Then I’ll root for you quietly.” Akira smiled, as if she’s not into a joke. “Though, it’d be hard for me to root for you anyway. The stadium is too big for that.”

“No one in the s-school knows why we booked out a stadium as big as Rocketblast, by the way. All t-they said was that it w-would involve Perchance to Dream somehow.

“No way am I going to reveal the location to you on the eve of the event. All I’ll say is… that this event will be bar-none the most insane sports carnival in the history of Japan.

He looked up at her.

“Now, are you going to take my order, Maid-san?”

“Hng…” Hayami swallowed hard, clicking her pen. “...W-What can I get for you, Master?”

“I’ll have the number three set with the heart-shaped condiment pattern. But… I do have a special request.”

“If y-you wanted substitutions, then that is at our main MaidCafe branches.”

“No, no… I want the ‘Smile Service’.”

Hayami blinked and gasped. It was a secret zero-yen item on the menu where the maid smiled at the customer in various ways.

“But,” Akira leaned forward, his hand sliding across the table to brush against her knuckles. “I don’t want the customer service one. I want a real one.”

He tapped her hand.

“So… what’s it going to be?”

‘This guy either knows what he’s doing, or he cannot distinguish his actions from flirting, and I don’t know which is worse!!’

…

‘Right. I nearly forgot he’s a scoundrel bully at heart.’

\\

When Hayami, sweaty and in desperate need of a shower, came back from work, she walked into a now familiar sight.

Her uncle was sprawled out on the leather couch, a box of tissues on his chest, weeping over a K-Drama.

"Oh, the betrayal!" he sniffled, wiping his nose loudly. "Why must love be so cruel?"

The usual.

Honestly, watching him there, it was hard to see him as a villain. While he might be a klutz who couldn’t make it more obvious he was waiting for a payout from the Akira situation, maybe… just maybe, he did have her best intentions at heart?

It was nice not having to worry about cooking breakfast for the rest of the week. It was also nice not feeling so lonely all the time.

Tonight felt different, however.

“Oh, Hayami-chan! You’re home! How are you? How was work? Did you remember to hydrate?”

“W-Work was… okay.”

“That’s good, that’s good. You work so hard.” He stood up, stretching his back with a groan. “I’ve been busy too, you know! I did the laundry today. And I went ahead and cleaned up your bedroom while I was at it—changed your sheets, wiped off the dust from your little figure collection. The works.”

“Th… Thanks.”

He turned off the TV program.

“Look. All that is to say that, well…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been feeling a little under-appreciated at the moment.”

“I… a-appreciate everything you’ve done. Really.” Hayami wiped her forehead. “I’m sorry if I h-haven’t made it clearer to you. Y-You are very much appreciated, Uncle Kenji.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

Kenji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But… well, that’s the hard part.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and beginning to pace around.

“You see, my business ventures… damn contractors bailed. They… fell through. And I… I’m ashamed to even say this to you, Hayami, but, well…”

He stopped pacing and looked at her with those perpetually wet eyes.

“I don’t want to be a burden. God knows I don’t. I wanted to be the cool uncle who buys you gifts, not… not a long-term squatter. But I want to be realistic.”

He took a shaky breath.

“I need to extend my stay beyond the three months. At least until I can… until I can feel like a man again.”

He gestured helplessly to the kitchen.

“I’ll keep cleaning! I’ll keep the house safe! I’m doing work for you, aren’t I?”

Hayami’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Maybe Kenji did need help. Was she being too selfish for even thinking this situation was wrong? She doesn’t know what was real anymore and it felt like the walls were growing narrower and narrow, closing her in…!

“Unless… you’re actually thinking of kicking me out?” he said, his voice dropping. “You wouldn’t send your own uncle to sleep on the street, would you?”

Every instinct screamed at her to say no. But looking at him, she felt like a monster for even thinking about evicting him.

“I…” She looked at the floor, her shoulders slumping. “...Okay.”

“Oh, thank you, Hayami! Thank you!” Kenji rushed forward and hugged her, squeezing the air out of her lungs. “You’re a saint! A true saint!”

Hayami stood limp in his arms.

She gently pulled away.

After a while, once he'd had enough to say, she walked into her room and closed the door.

She didn't shower. She slid down against the wood, pulling her knees to her chest.

She cried. She cried and cried.

Tomorrow was the Sports Carnival. She had to run in front of the whole school. But right now, she couldn't even stand up.

\\

“The young master’s intuition that something was awry was surprisingly wise.”

On a high-definition monitor, a black-and-white feed showed Hayami weeping on the floor of her bedroom.

Watari scoffed.

On command, the camera angle changed. It changed to the person lying on the couch, unpausing his K-drama flick.

A wrinkled yet manicured hand reached out and tapped the screen, right over Kenji’s face.

“When I get my hands on you, Kenji… you will rue the day you decided to take advantage of our family.”

But he couldn’t help but wonder… what if Hayami were to find out the young master’s schemes?