Asada's Wrath

The stench of a Monday morning—business suits still fresh from the cleaners coupled with faint perfume—always had a knack for tickling my nose.

From the wide window ahead of me, dazzling cityscapes whizzed by as the commuter train raced along its tracks. Passing skyscrapers would occasionally cloak me in shadows, hiding me from the bright world even if just for a moment.

This is just our monotonous lives now.

My shoulder bumped against someone in a suit while I brought out my bento box. Trains at this time of day were always packed, though nothing I wasn't used to by now. A few teenage girls sitting right across from me giggled as they glanced in my direction.

I was clad in jeans and a white dress shirt—not my usual style, though it was mandatory for work along with an apron I'd slip into later. For now, the little box of delights on my lap had tempted me, and I snuck a peek inside: rice with a heart drawn in spicy sauce greeted me, coupled with sides of octopus sausages and steamed broccoli.

Forget girlfriend, I gotta hurry and upgrade Asagiri to wife. Well, it's not like she really cared about me anyway. Being affectionate sometimes was just part of her job.

I sealed the bento box and shoved it in my backpack behind me again.

Earlier in the morning, Asagiri had cooked homemade breakfast for me. It'd felt weird heading downstairs to see a hot girl in cat ears toiling away in my kitchen, surreal even. She implied she couldn't cook but those savory eggs said otherwise.

'You better eat everything, or I'm only making food for Furbolt now,' was what she yelled on my way out. I'd preferred something romantic to send me off, but sass was cute too.

"Achoo!"

The guy next to me sneezed and didn't even bother covering his nose. Others standing around him awkwardly moved away, while I was stuck planted in my seat. The long-ish train commutes were always taxing since I didn't like crowds much. Other train passengers—mixes of students, salarymen, and grocery shoppers—almost always wore something that screamed their itinerary.

My dejected face looked at the younger people around me. I wasn't jealous of them, but disappointed with myself and everything I hadn't done. If I passed away tomorrow, what would people say at my funeral? What life did I live worth reminiscing about?

When people died young, everyone would mention how that person had their whole life ahead of them; or if she was a girl, the default was mentioning how beautiful she was. Why were we segregated into saccharine categories after dying? Was the sinner forgiven when they died? Or was death just the beginning of their punishment?

A favorite character of mine once said they'd done things in their past they're ashamed of, but nothing they regret—I was the opposite. Since falling out with a close friend years ago, I'd done nothing of significance and buried myself in regrets. If there was a little angel on my shoulder, even he would be applauding me finally buying those sleeping pills.

I'd be tired of waiting for someone to kill themself too.

Soon, the high-pitched squeal of brakes signaled we'd pulled into our train station, and my metallic ride came to a halt. While crowds flowed out, I strapped the backpack back on then followed behind everyone. Gonna be a long day probably. Maybe Asada won't be pissed off though?

Exiting the station, a middle-aged couple handing out pamphlets caught my attention. Both lovers were wearing pristine, light-pink suits suitable for church. However, what was noteworthy wasn't their clothes, but their uncanny smiles—unflinching, unwavering, and patient, just like spiders waiting in their webs. Their crazed eyes met mine while I hustled by before anyone could say a word to me.

I was depressed but not weak-willed enough to join a cult. Forgiving them for what they did to my friend wasn't feasible, and even though years had passed already, society had only succumbed to the empty promises even more.

Heh. They're better than me at keeping promises at least. 

I continued trekking down a crowded city sidewalk as I came to an intersection. Groups of people were waiting to cross, blocking my path forward. It was times like these where I could only sigh.

Then my phone vibrated.

"Hmmm?" Well that's a surprise. I slipped it out and checked what's up. A new text from my slacker coworker, Shinji Nemoto, popped up:

'HEY! ASADA'S ON MY ASS MORE THAN USUAL! SAVE ME!'

Nemoto only ever texted in caps, but someone wouldn't guess he's meeker than a mouse in person. Though, Asada on his ass was preferred over being on mine. Thanks for taking one for the team!

After crossing the intersection and journeying further ahead, an outdoor shopping plaza came into view. It was horseshoe-shaped, and its center area housed an elegant water fountain surrounded by lavish gardens. Scenic sights along with popular shops kept a constant flow of pedestrians coming throughout the day. 

Knowing I was early, I took my time taking in the vistas until spotting a shop logo that read "Kamikawa Books". Glass doors displayed hours indicating we'd open in forty minutes, but I noticed someone inside running towards me.

"BAAAHHHH! Nishikata!" Some black-haired loli pressed herself against the glass. Her little fists banged violently yet harmlessly as pure, raging anger seethed up at me. 

"I'm on time, aren't I?" I said with an innocent smile. Happiness was that girl's kryptonite.

"I'll kill you, Nishikata! You left your stock a mess last week! I'll kill you and then I'll fire you!"

“Might wanna rearrange that order a little."

Rin Asada—my blue-aproned, short as sin supervisor—growled and unlocked our glass door. “We got yesterday’s partial shipments coming in, so I’ll let you live today.”

“Thanks. Your shrine in my closet gets an offering tonight.”

“D-D-Dumbass! Stop your jokes and get to work!”

I held the door open for us as we both walked in. We were greeted with an expansive room lined with multiple rows of bookshelves. Our shop offered everything from gardening magazines to novels and manga. Art Deco stylings gave the bookstore a distinctive, American vibe amplified by robust offerings from America itself.

“Is Nemoto alright?” I asked Asada as we made our way through aisles.

“I thrashed him for not clearing out deathbed mangas yesterday. Now he’s gotta figure out how to cram in all his new arrivals.”

Deathbed books were stock the store has been unable to sell and were scheduled for return. Organizing them was one of our least favorite tasks.

“Splitting apart volumes and having incomplete sets—not really me and Nemoto’s thing," I said. "Feels like separating families. Kinda hurts, you know?”

“I’ll hurt you even more if you don't pull your weight today.” Asada's cute fang bared itself.

“Careful, I’m into that.”

"Shut up! RAAaaaah!"

This tsundere loli looked about 12-years-old but was actually 22. The top of her head barely reached my chest, and I'd always imagined her like a ball of anger trying hard to compensate for her small stature.

As we both waltzed past our manga section, we reached a back door that read "Employees Only." Asada invited me inside.

“I’ll clock you in,” she said. “Get changed. Tell Nemoto I’ll unleash Kikuchi on him tomorrow if he doesn’t orientate himself.”

“Hmm? Tomorrow? Is Kikuchi off?"

“Yeah. She called in sick apparently, lucky you.”

Sweet relief instilled itself within me. “At least I don’t gotta worry about getting sexually harassed today, haha."

“Your ass cheeks are safe, but your arms aren’t. You and Summers will be covering Kikuchi's sections."

Summers was the single hottest coworker here, and also literally single. Sharing an aisle with her would mean lots of moments to mingle with her.

“Uhhh, no problem at all!" I replied. "I do as I'm told!"

“Kamikawa decided it, not me," Asada grumbled. "He spoils you way too much.”

Based head manager. We were a small, independent bookstore, so management let us be a bit outlandish. All seven employees were eccentric one way or another, for better or worse.

“Wish Summers would spoil me a bit too,” I said with a grin.

Asada kicked me in my shin and blew the silver whistle around her neck. “Get in there and work! Humph!” She stomped off towards our distant office door.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Dang loli! Violent tendencies controller her, but I still respected her plenty. After an assistant manager vacancy opened, Sir Kamikawa himself handpicked Asada for the role and also appointed her as one of two Section Chiefs—a leader that oversaw everyone's duties. She took this job more seriously than anyone even though high shelves were her Achilles heel.

I opened our creaky door to the employee backroom. An open window shined light towards new book racks that spanned multiple rows. Off to the side rested shrink wrap stations and a tidy break table for employees, alongside fridges and cubbies to store our belongings.

My eyes shifted toward boxes piled on the room's opposite end that'd been stacked to resemble a throne.

"Welcome to my kingdom—the Kingdom of Nemoto," Nemoto said as he rested upon his impromptu seat.

My partner in crime looked straight at me with a dead, unyielding expression. Permanent bags under his eyes emphasized an always-tired attitude, while spiky white hair drooped over half his face.

"The door to darkness opens out there in thirty minutes," I said after laying my backpack on the countertop. "Slacking off won't save you from Asada."

"Point taken. Guess I'll grant capitalism my services." His voice was devoid of emotion like a monotone zombie. He stood up and started rearranging all the boxes he'd sat on.

Meanwhile, I pulled out a blue apron from my backpack. "Be honest, do you actually like it when Asada's foot is up your ass?"

"Dunno. It's usually so small I barely notice, but she was peeved about those deathbeds I left out yesterday. There's good reasons I did though."

"Which are?"

"I was tired and my shift was almost done."

“Seems legit. Aren't you always tired though?"

"Not true." He looked down and fiddled with gamer pins on his blue apron. “I get heated when we play Semtex Legends, don’t I? Random teammates always suck, so they get me riled up sometimes."

He sounds half-asleep whether he’s energetic or not. “We could hit up Mogami to play, but you know he’s usually doing gym stuff."

"Mogami's not super good; still better than randoms though, right?"

"Depends." I finished tying my apron around me. A nametag was located beside my chest, near a stitching of our shop's name which completed my uniform. "He'd probably be a lot better if he played more often."

"Hehhhhh." Nemoto yawned as he pulled out a water bottle from his cubby. "Still weird he's not top tier but oversaw gaming here before.”

“He has a life unlike us. We’re just outclassed.”

“Right? Forget redistributing wealth, redistribute his chadness instead.”

The sound of a sharp whistle blew outside in the lobby—Asada's warning to hurry up. But it wasn't quite loud enough to necessitate haste.

“Mogami keeps Kikuchi at bay," I continued the conversation. "Don't think we can complain much about him."

"Chad Incarnate versus Horny Queen—immovable object meets unstoppable force, or something."

"Wonder what that makes Asada then, haha." I slid my emptied backpack into an assigned cubby. There was a changing room we could use, though most employees didn't use it since just our work apron had to be put on.

"Speaking of Asada, I'm gonna start slaving away now," Nemoto said, making his way to the door. "Not keen on getting eaten alive by a loli. Guessing she mentioned to sort your stock already?"

"Something like that, yeah. Holler if you see her running over."

"Yup. Don't think either of us wanna die young."

"Y-Yeah. See you out there!"

With another yawn, Nemoto opened and closed the door behind him.

Hitting too close to home with that one. Not many people knew how nihilistic I actually was since hiding it was my intention. Just keep letting everyone believe the facade.

I slipped out my phone to check the time—9:30. Asagiri's cat-girl cosplay wallpaper had me feeling giddy, but I was on the clock now. Time to get serious!

Our employee backroom was where we sorted our inventory. Each person got assigned stock racks that mirrored their respective shelves outside. My own rack here remained a mess thanks to anxiety about the GiG program since last week.

I fiddled with some light novels and neatly stacked them in piles. We would receive new shipments today, so I needed to make extra room or face Asada's wrath.

"Huh? What's this?" I murmured. My hands found a lone copy of Dominion's Paradise Volume 1. "I thought these all sold out! Sucks for that one guy that asked for it."

Calling myself a fan of Dominion's Paradise was an understatement. I lived it, breathed it, and decided to work in a bookstore just to be around it more often. Every released volume rested on my shelves at home, snugged away like precious treasures.

"Shit, Asada's gonna wanna know we figured out our stock discrepancy," I said to myself. "At least she can't get madder, right?"

I snatched the book and hustled to the door. Actually, thinking about it, this was probably a series I should recommend Asagiri. Did she even read though? I didn't know much about her yet except her moochy personality.

Best case scenario, I turn her into an otaku. A gamer girlfriend would be nice too.

It was gonna be a long day at work, and honestly, I wasn't sure how much I trusted Asagiri to be left alone. Who knew what I was gonna return home to? Chaos? Entropy? Pandemonium?

I imagined the worst, but hopefully it wasn't half that bad . . .