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This is a good read Thanatos. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of it!

Fanuilos wrote:This is a good read Thanatos. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of it!

Thanks! Glad to have another reader on board.

Gonna try cramming it all in one post this time. It's starting to get to a point where I can post one part in every page, so it shouldn't be wonking up the post length limit.
Also, sorry it took so long to get this out. Took a week off for Thanksgiving to work and visit friends, and now I'm having trouble focusing on anything for more than 15 minutes at a time.

Act 3 - Part 4: Kicking Off

A mixture of uncertainty and anxiety flows through my mind as my hand hovers above the silver handle. Before me is a closed door, the signs adorning its wooden surface usually symbolizing aid for someone with a condition like mine.

Today, however, it’s a harbinger of judgment. The weight of a month’s worth of disregard already bears down on me, and I have no doubts that it’s about to be doubled.

'Head Nurse' the brass plate on the door reads.

I can't even begin to imagine the magnitude of the lecture I'll receive upon stepping through this doorway. He knows I haven't been running, he knows my social situation here isn't in the smoothest of positions; hell, I'll bet he'd even know if I wasn't eating healthy.

With reluctance, I raise my hand to the door and rap my knuckles against the glossy surface.

“Come in.” that familiar voice chimes, the sound of a chair rolling across the tile floor indicating that I’ll be the object of his utmost attention here in a few seconds.

I turn the doorknob and take a meager step inside, electing to close the door behind me as check-ups generally involve me having to take my shirt off.

“Good morning, Hisao. I take it you got my message?” the nurse greets from behind his desk, his energetic smile just as bright as usual despite being so early in the day.

I think it would have been rather difficult to miss. It’s every guy’s dream to be woken up by a cute girl, but not when she’s slamming her fist against your door at six in the morning.

At first I thought she had shown up to take a running partner for herself by force, considering that she was already clad in a gym uniform coupled with a pair of steel prosthesis.

‘Nurse says he wants to see you.’ she had commented after handing me a small post-it note. After that it led into a small back-and-forth about school, what I've been up to, and a lively "well just remember that I'll be waiting if you ever want to get out to the track with me!"

Other than that, nothing. I can't help but think that she only said that much out of obligation, to try and keep a tie to someone who could have at one point been a friend.

I suppose I can’t blame her. I pretty much dropped off the face of the earth after my first week here, and it doesn’t help that I avoided saying ‘hi’ the few times I walked by her in the hallways. There's no point lingering on it though; anything I could say about the matter is just ‘shoulda woulda coulda' at this point.

Especially since there’s more pressing matters at hand.

I glance up at the nurse and offer up a reassuring smile, more for myself than him.

“Yeah, Emi dropped it off this morning.” I reply.

“Glad to hear that. I take it you know why you’re here?”

Because the only precautions I’ve been taking in ensuring that I don’t drop dead are keeping up with my medication, and being lazy whenever it comes to physical activity?

“Just a checkup?”

“For the most part, yes. Most students keep up with their visits on their own, but it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, for some reason.” Nurse replies with a cheeky grin, amused by his own joke.

“I’ve been doing fine, really. There’s been a lot going on, so I’ve had to cut back on a few things.” I reply, content to let a little white lie slip.

He wags his finger back and forth in disapproval before responding with “come on, Hisao. There's nursing staff here around the clock. Twenty-four-seven: that's what we tell everyone who walks through those gates. Even our busiest students find time to stop by."

"Ah, well, yeah, but..."

"No buts. Your health should always be a top priority, regardless of how busy you are; I'd like to think that my opinion as a medical professional is something valuable." he replies, cutting me off mid-sentence as he starts to shift into serious mode.

And here’s where it all begins.

His fingers intertwine as he leans in, resting his chin on both hands. "Emi tells me you haven't been coming to the track. Why is that?" he asks, his features becoming more and more steely as he scrutinizes my expression.

"The first time I went there, I wound up having to pace myself. A simple walk was enough to get the blood flowing, and that's what I've been doing around here." I reply.

"A simple walk doesn't quite constitute 'exercise,' I'm afraid. You need to find some other way to push yourself, and I think the solution is obvious enough. Don't you?"

I nod my head, unsure of how to answer.

There’s no doubt that I’ve been dodging any sort of physical strain, but to say I’ve become entirely sedentary is a bit of an exaggeration. I do plenty of walking around, whether it be throughout the campus or into town and back. It’s not a workout, but it’s something, right?

The track doesn’t feel like an option to me at this point. Yeah, I don’t feel like waking up at six in the morning, but that’s not the only problem. I feel unwelcome there, for some reason; Emi’s cheeriness this morning makes it all the more difficult to tackle the task as well, since I wouldn’t want to disappoint her by making another half-hearted attempt.

A job isn’t out of the question, although the fact that I’m still considering such a thing may as well be a testament to how much time I do have on hand.

No, I think the reason it’s been floating through my head so much is because it’s a way out. I can’t go to the track, so why not find a different venue? Something where I can find some kind of success that isn’t academia. It doesn’t even have to be successful; I just want to feel like I’m good for something else!

“Are there any alternatives to the track?” I ask.

My question is met with a raised eyebrow and a look of suspicion. “There’s plenty of ways to get exercise, you don’t just have to go to the track. I’m not sure if you can swim, but we have a pool here as well as a number of other facilities.”

Something besides the school! I don’t want to be trapped here.

“What about physical labor? Like… if I tried to get a job?”

For some reason I cringe as the words leave my mouth. It’s not that I have a problem with the idea of work, but for all I know there could be a policy restricting students from having jobs at all.

“I’ll tell you the same thing as the handbook. Part-time work is allowed as long as it doesn’t put you in danger, and it doesn’t interfere with your studies.” the nurse answers.

Oh. That worked out well, I suppose.

“Speaking of which; I’m pleased to hear that you’re keeping up with your classes. Most students that transfer in this late in the trimester wind up on the wrong foot for the rest of the year.” he adds on.

“Well, I had plenty of time to keep up with my studies over the past few months. It wasn’t too hard to get up to speed, honestly.” I comment.

“Now if only we could get you up to speed on your physical health.” he jabs with a chuckle. “Alright, enough small talk; you know the drill.”

He motions for me to take a seat on one of the beds behind the curtain nearby. I unbutton my shirt and set it down beside me before laying my undershirt down with it, bracing myself against the cold iron surface of a stethoscope.

Deep breaths. Cough. The same old routine I’ve been through a thousand times. He presses the iron instrument against various locations on my chest and back before moving onto other tests, apparently content with the results.

My blood pressure is checked, my eyes and ears are examined, and my heartrate is taken one more time before I’m allowed to stand up again.

“As always, there’s no need for worry as long as you pace yourself and keep out of stressful situations. Also, if you do decide to look for work while you’re here, make sure it’s something easy. I don’t want to find you on a stretcher for trying to reform a pack of gangsters.” Nurse comments, his words accompanied by a hearty laugh.

**********

My head seems to have cleared up since this morning, and the pace of class goes by quicker as a result. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to be daydreaming or thinking of other things with the end of the trimester in sight, but it hasn’t given me a problem yet.

The thought of work is… relaxing, somehow. Maybe I’m getting my hopes up about this whole job thing. It shouldn’t be easy at all to land something part-time at my age and with my experience, and I doubt I’ll be able to get into a position that will somehow link to what I want to do in life. It’s a given that I’ll have something to do with all this spare time, but with exams coming up, do I even want something to occupy my time?

At least I’m not obsessing over whether a girl halfway across the world received a text message.

Speaking of which, I wonder how Akira is doing right now. Did the visit with her aunt go well? Is she getting along with the family she hasn’t seen in years?

…What did she pick out for her new swims-

“Hicchan, how do you solve this?” a voice beside me asks in a somewhat-quiet tone. I’m sure everyone else heard it as well, but it’s the attempt at whispering that counts, right?

On the blackboard is an example problem, one that I’m able to solve despite the beach-themed daydreams skipping through my head. Mutou paces around the room waiting for one student to grasp the answer, a slim piece of chalk twirling between his fingers.

The sample has been copied into Misha’s notebook, and a few steps have already been taken to solve the problem. I can already see where the issue lies, however, as she forgot to sort things into the right categories.

“Switch ‘Fe’ and ‘N’. One goes in the oxidizing half; the other is part of the reducing half.” I whisper, trying to avoid Mutou’s attention.

Misha switches the two elements around before staring at the paper with a tilted head. She rests her chin in her hand while scribbling in the margin of the notebook before letting the information click into place.

And click it does, as she bounces in her chair and solves the rest of the equation with little issue, humming a made-up victory tune as Shizune glances over and apparently gives the okay.

It would seem that Mutou gives the okay as well, as he paces up to the front of the class and calls upon the pink-haired girl beside me to fill in the blanks and solve the problem on the board.

*******

“Wahaha~, you didn’t think I was going to get it right, did you~?” Misha chimes as she packs away her things in anticipation of the lunch bell, brimming with confidence after completing the example problem.

“I was hoping you’d get it right. I’d be worried if you didn’t since this stuff is so easy.” I reply.

“Hey! I just hit bumps every now and then, no need to be mean~...”

Yeah, I can’t say much to that; it happens to all of us. I do feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction from watching Misha work the problem, though. Something about helping other people understand things just makes me feel warm inside. I guess it makes sense, considering how much I get worked up over not understanding things.

"I'm just having fun. It'd be boring if I just showered you with praise, right?"

"Don't think I didn't catch you smiling when I came back from the blackboard~!" Misha counters, giggling.

"Ah- what? I was smiling?" I counter, conscious of my facial expressions all of a sudden.

“Of course you were smiling, silly~! I'll bet you were just thinking about how wonderful it was that I got the question right~.”

That's probably why, since that's exactly what I was just thinking about!

Have to be difficult! Something else, something else, something else...

“What? That's nice, yeah, but I was just thinking about the three-day weekend coming up.” I respond, trying to shift away from the previous thought.

We have a three-day weekend, right? Or was that next week? I need to start checking the calendar more.

“Ohh? And what do you have planned for the weekend, Hicchan~?” Misha asks through thinly layered skepticism, her brow narrowed and a mischievous smile spreading between her cheeks. Shizune seems to take notice of the conversation as well, as Misha's hands continue to translate anything and everything that is said.

Sleeping, sleeping, and maybe some sleeping.

Well, no, there's at least one thing I need to do. Akira and Lilly get back this Friday, and I'm sure Hanako is going to go meet them there. Maybe I could tag along? It'd be nice to be the first thing Akira sees when she gets off the plane, anyway.

I could even get that package Kenji asked about. I'm only about a week overdue on that, right?

“I've got to go welcome some friends back at the airport, and then there's a couple of things I need to do in the city.” I comment, only to add on “...it doesn't hurt to sleep in every now and then, right?”

“Wahaha~!” Misha bursts out laughing. “I don't blame you, everyone needs their beauty sleep~.”

At this, she adds on “some more than others~,” although I'm sure it came from the dark-haired girl beside her. My thoughts are confirmed when Shizune gives a catlike grin at Misha's “Hey! What's that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, every high school student could use more rest.” I comment, shrugging my shoulders.

Misha sticks her tongue out at me in a taunting manner as Mutou gives some closing announcements, not even bothering to fight against a class whose only focus is on the impending lunch bell.

The same old warnings of exams and to study our notes, the same old lecture on securing a future for yourself, and the same old need to see me after cl-

Wait, why does he need to see me after class? I didn’t doze off or mess anything up today, so it shouldn’t be something like detention.

Without further delay, the bell rings throughout campus, setting a herd of students loose to roam the school. Everyone except me, anyway, as Mutou sits at his desk, fingers intertwined as he waits for my compliance.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask upon approaching the teacher’s desk.

“I’m not here to bark at you or anything, just a few questions. I hope I’m not intruding on your privacy or anything, but I hear you’re looking for a job?” Mutou answers with his own question, resting his chin atop both hands.

“Eh? How do you know about that?”

“Word gets around here fast, you know.” he counters.

He had to have heard it from the nurse. That’s the only person I’ve talked about it with, anyway. I guess confidentiality only refers to medical issues, then; or maybe I have to ask to keep it confidential before anything is actually said.

“Well, yeah, I was hoping to find something to occupy my time. The school doesn’t have any rules against work, right?”

“There are no rules as long as it doesn’t endanger you or interfere with academics. That’s the thing, though, are you sure you want to undertake something like that alongside your studies?”

“I’ve been keeping up with my studies, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I reply.

Strange how this has gone from an idle thought to an actual pursuit worth arguing with a teacher over in the span of less than a day. I never thought myself the ‘live in the moment’ kind of guy.

“I do not doubt that, but are you sure you could put up with the stress? Is there some kind of motive behind this? Students don’t just try to start working.” Mutou comments with a look of curiosity.

What is my motive? Yeah, I can joke around about living in the moment, but there has to be something in me driving this forward. Originally I thought it was about finding a timesink

“Everyone needs job experience, right?” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Of course, but don’t you think it’s too soon? I’d hate to see you crash and burn by trying to take on more than you’re capable of. That’s why you’re here, to learn and know your limits, and how to be most successful in spite of them.” he argues.

How can I learn what I’m good for if I spend all day locked up in my room? I think I’m beginning to understand why this has been eating at me so much.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know what my limits are yet. I haven’t been able to accomplish a single thing ever since I got here besides make a few new friends.” I respond, “I feel like I’m stuck. I don’t know what I can do because I’m not taking any chances with myself.”

At this, Mutou releases a haggard sigh and buries his face in his hands, already frustrated with my answer. It doesn’t seem like he’s used to arguing with students.

Thinking over my words, I can’t help but wonder if I sound like some kind of rebellious teenager.

“Hisao, it’s my job as a teacher to educate and guide you down the right path. What you feel isn’t wrong, at least not the way I see it, but we don’t find out how strong we are by jumping off of cliffs.”

“It’s not like I’m going to join the military or something, I’m just looking for a part-time job.” I respond.

“Where were you thinking of applying?” Mutuo asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. That’s currently the biggest hurdle; find somewhere I could even work at. There’s more businesses I’d rather not work for than ones I would.

“See, you need a plan, first. You can’t really say you’re what you are or aren’t going to limit yourself to until you’ve actually got some goals set up. Where would you like to work?”

It doesn’t help that I’ve only been thinking about this for a day, so my thoughts are still immature. I’ve got a hastily produced motive, but that’s about it. There’s no goals set as of yet.

“Somewhere I can get some viable experience would be great, but that’s probably getting my hopes up.” I respond.

“Viable experience for your future?” Mutou counters, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, yeah. If I knew how things worked in a lab, don’t you think I’d be able to get a jumpstart on everyone else once I had a degree? But that’s the thing, where would someone like me even get a job?”

The man across me scratches his chin in thought before gesturing for me to wait a moment as he searches through his briefcase.

“I think I’ve got something for you, actually.”

He has something for me? Really? What happened to staying away from work and finding something else to test or strengthen myself?

“Huh? What do you mean by that? What happened to avoiding work?”

“I didn’t say to avoid work, I said to avoid endangering yourself. I’ll give you some info, refer you to a place in the city, and put in a good word; but only if you promise not to go overboard.” he replies, holding a few papers and a business card.

He’ll not only send me somewhere, but he’ll give me his recommendation as well? What’s the catch? Things like this don’t show up on silver platters.

“It depends on what the job is. I can’t pledge to take it easy when I don’t even know what I’ll be doing.” I counter.

“We don’t have clearance to do most of our biology experiments here in the school, so we get some help from a lab in the city. They mainly do large-scale culture incubation and antibody development, but they’re also partnered with a medical corporation here in Japan, so some research happens there as well.” he replies.

“…Huh? How would I get a job there? I don’t know how to do research or if I can even think of anything worth trying to prove. Even if I were some kind of genius, why would they agree to hire me without any qualifications?”

At this, Mutou gives a light chuckle.

“Everyone needs janitors.” he retorts.

“And if… I… oh.” I comment, my words going dead like a deflating balloon.

A janitor? At a biological research lab?!

I’m interested in the opportunity, yeah. I can’t see being a custodian as a particularly taxing position either, so I wouldn’t have any of those ‘dropping dead’ issues. But don’t they need training and what have you?

“So, do we have a deal? You promise not to overwork yourself, and I’ll give you a potential employer.”

He holds out his hand and waits for me to agree with the proposition, the white sheets of paper taunting me from his other side.

No qualifications, no training, and no experience. These people have no reason to hire me on any grounds other than a friend’s recommendation.

So why can’t I turn him down?

“Yeah, I think we have a deal.” I concede, grabbing and shaking Mutou’s hand.

“Good man. I can’t guarantee you the position, sadly. They shouldn’t be giving you any trouble, though, considering how understaffed they are these days.”

“Understaffed in terms of workers that matter, or understaffed in terms of custodians?” I ask as he hands me the bundle of papers.

“Hey now, custodians are the most important workers, sometimes. Especially in the field of biology, because results get skewed if everything isn't clean before tests start. I'm sure Mr. Setou will tell you all about what you'll be doing.” Mutou responds.

Mr... Setou? Hopefully not the same Setou I'm thinking of.

I check over the few papers as he gives me some more advice over job interviews. Things like 'wear a suit,' 'do some research,' and 'be enthusiastic' filling my head alongside the information on the business card.

What all this tells me is that it's a lab in the city, which specializes in pharmacology. There's a phone number and a few names here, so I at least have somewhere to start. At the very least I can find out if they'd even consider giving me an interview.

“Should I call ahead? Or will they be expecting me once you send them a recommendation?” I ask.

“He's a bit of a jumpy guy, so you'll want to call ahead. You've got everything you need, so I think I'll be heading out now. Best of luck, Hisao.” Mutou answers as he finishes gathering his things, letting the briefcase hang from his side as he steps out of the classroom.

Am I making progress?

A job opportunity. And it's not just any regular part-time job, I might actually have a chance to work with other genuine scientists. I'm not sure of what I'll be doing, what the hours will be, how much strain it'll put on me, but...

It feels like I'm scratching an itch, somehow. Like there's been something festering inside of me for the past few weeks, and I'm finally doing something to ease the burden.

A chance to prove this heart condition can't keep me from functioning in society -- that might just be what I was waiting for all along.

Well, no, that's a bit of a stretch. I think all I could say is that it's only one of the things I've been waiting for. There's still some other events that would be nice; like somehow running into a certain blonde-haired woman again. I should hold off on calling her for a little longer though, maybe not until tomorrow.

At least this gives me something to talk to her about when the time does come.

Where is Act 3 part 3? Or am I missing something? 3-1 started with class, 3-2 was texting, and now its 3-4? Is there actually a 3-3 or is this just a typo. I don't want to read ahead! haha

Po1ntBlank wrote:Where is Act 3 part 3? Or am I missing something? 3-1 started with class, 3-2 was texting, and now its 3-4? Is there actually a 3-3 or is this just a typo. I don't want to read ahead! haha

3-1 picked up in Akira's penthouse; check the table of contents in the opening post, it's got links to every part of the fic so far.

Thanatos02 wrote:

Po1ntBlank wrote:Where is Act 3 part 3? Or am I missing something? 3-1 started with class, 3-2 was texting, and now its 3-4? Is there actually a 3-3 or is this just a typo. I don't want to read ahead! haha

3-1 picked up in Akira's penthouse; check the table of contents in the opening post, it's got links to every part of the fic so far.

Oh okay. It was confusing that there was Act 3, Part 3, Part 1/2 and then Act 3 part 4. I was like wheres part 3, but thats because there is part 1 and 2 of act 3 part 3

I like this. I really really do. This is just one of those fics that just stands out from all the rest. It's absolutely excellent.

Guest90206 wrote:I like this. I really really do. This is just one of those fics that just stands out from all the rest. It's absolutely excellent.

Thanks, man! Compliments like this really keep me going.

Time for updates!
Two new characters in this one. One is going to be vital to the plot from this point on, and it's your job to speculate on which one it is~.

Other than that, any comments and criticisms are still very much appreciated. Sorry if it feels like things are going so slow, I just feel like I'd be cheating or skipping over important things if I just sped through all of this to try and get to the Akira bits I know everyone is waiting for.

Act 3 - Part 5-1: Qualifications

The smell of exhaust and the sound of a bustling crowd are my welcoming party as I step off the bus and onto the sidewalk, already wishing I'd dressed a little lighter for my upcoming interview. Thankfully there’s a crowd of people on business disembarking with me, so I don’t stick out in my black suit.

I reach into my pocket and shuffle around, pulling out a sheet of notebook paper with some directions written on it. It’s not very professional, but it works, and that’s what matters.

The lab is six blocks from here, and there’s nothing but dense crowd between me and the door to what may be a new career for me. I guess this is how I’ll be getting my exercise for today, and possibly for the next couple of months if everything goes well.

I wasn’t expecting to get the call so soon, considering that I only contacted them the day before. It doesn’t seem like it’s very difficult to get an interview; all I had to do was give them my name, explain what I was calling about, and when I’d next be available. I suppose Mutou was right about them being understaffed, at any rate.

Maybe Mutou sent in his recommendation as quickly as possible, and he painted me in such an impressive light that they had to have me right then and there. It’s been a few days since our talk, so it’s possible that he could have rushed it in.

But still, to get the call right after classes? I had only just stepped into the courtyard when my phone started vibrating. At first my heart jumped at the prospect of Akira calling, but then I realized that it would be around six in the morning over there.

It was a number I had never seen in my life before, so there was really only one possibility.

“Is this Hisao Nakai?” a man on the other end asked. The voice didn’t seem to have any memorable characteristics; it was like something you’d hear on the intercom at a grocery store.

“This is him.” I answered.

“My name is Tetsuo Shuugetsu, head of employee relations at Medivac Corporation. When will you be open for interview?”

At first I wondered why someone so high up would be calling me. Does the guy in charge handle all hiring across the company, or were all of the lower-tiered managers having a day off?

“Right now?” I returned.

“Love the enthusiasm! Today's not a good time for us, though. How about tomorrow?” he had commented, showing a bit of his own dry excitement.

“I can come in after class tomorrow, sir.” I replied.

“That should be around three, right? Works for me! I’ll be looking forward to it.”

And then he hung up without naming a specific time and before I could ask him for directions. I had to go to the library and find a detailed map. I also had hopes that I could squeeze in another conversation with Hanako, but she had already went home for the day.

But still, no specified time? Is he just going to be sitting in his office for the next six hours, ready whenever I am? I don't think that's how things normally work.

Does he just enjoy his job? He seemed rather upbeat about the whole thing. Do they see so little commerce that even the prospect of a new recruit is enough to be excited about? Either way, it doesn't seem that I'll be wasting anyone's time by taking advantage of the opportunity.

Speaking of which, just how much pomp and circumstance is there around someone applying to be a janitor? Should I be wearing a suit? Apparently the rule is to dress one level above the uniform there – what’s a tier above a maintenance jumpsuit? A shirt and tie?

I guess it’s better to be over-prepared. Hopefully this Shuugetsu guy will be telling me everything I’ll want to know; provided I get the position, anyway.

Already covered in sweat, I approach at the front door to the building. Before me stands a white, rough brick wall spanning at least five stories, with three windows on each floor facing out to the road. It has a rather modern feel to it despite a sign beside the door indicating that its been standing since the seventies.

All it takes is a light tug for the door to open, revealing what could only be described as a miniscule reception area.

There’s a single desk beside a clock-in station and a sign dictating that the organization has gone over three years without an accident. The floor is plain colorless tile, the ceiling is composed of generic dime-a-dozen beige panels, and the walls are a blank, sterile white with the exception of a few informative posters and bulletin boards.

Across the lobby from the entrance is an air-tight door with a biohazard sign displayed in bright yellow on its surface. A window beside it allows the occupants of the ’lobby’ a peek in, revealing a couple of men in white lab coats congregating around a lab table littered with hundreds of petri dishes.

It's quite clear that they don't get much prospective business – no one 'ends up' here, only people with a purpose come in through that door.

Before I can make any more observations, a stocky man at the front desk calls me over.

“Can I help you? Yer' just kinda standin’ there.” he states, glancing between me and a stack of forms on his workstation.

"I’m Hisao Nakai. I'm here about an interview for a maintenance position.” I reply.

It feels strange saying something like that. I’ve been beating around the bush on deciding what I want to do with my life for so long that the words sound foreign coming out of my mouth.

“Ahh, I getcha. Shuugetsu’s upstairs in ol’ Kenji’s office. Third floor, he’ll probably be waitin’ for ya.”

Ol’… Kenji.

No. There’s no connection there. I’m just being paranoid. All of his paranoia is rubbing off on me.

I bow my head and thank him before heading off to the stairwell, heaving a sigh of relief as I notice a wall panel for an elevator. It’s my first day, though, and they might use these elevators for more than just moving people, so I tough it out and brave the numerous flights of stairs.

Thanks to a month of having to brave the stairs up to class and back, I’ve got some strategy worked out -- things like taking my time up one step at a time or stopping at each landing to take a tiny break. It probably looks pitiful to anyone watching, but looking like a wimp is preferable to having an episode before my first day of work has even started.

There’s no directory or anything indicating where I am other than ‘floor __’ above the elevator, so context clues are all I have to go by when it comes to figuring out what goes on here. I’m no biologist, but it’s easy enough to distinguish the rooms from one another.

As much as I’d love to get onto the important part; I can’t help but stop and take a peek around on each floor.

The first story looked like some kind of open-air experiment lab. There wasn’t much in the way of safety gear other than lab coats and safety goggles, so it’s easy to assume that they don’t work with anything that threatens the existence of the human race.

Floor two seems like a mix between a break room and a work space. There was a lounge with a TV running, albeit no one was present. Other than that, there were numerous offices, all with different nameplates. From a glance, one could tell that some offices were for paperwork, while others were for more ‘in-depth’ research, as indicated by the giant, expensive-looking microscopes.

Speaking of which, there seems to be a lot of intricate or elaborate tools being used here. Is it up to the scientists to maintain these things, or am I going to need to know how to disassemble and clean each part of a machine? It should be fun to learn about, at least.

It is now that I make the final step to the third floor, which looks to be more like a general-use lab -- black-surface lab tables are spaced across the ground, and counters filled to the bursting point with glassware and other scientific tools line the walls and corners.

There’s over a dozen men working around a variety of stations; carrying samples back and forth or mixing various components together in small flasks. Some are just standing around and making small talk, waiting for what looks like a centrifuge to finish cycling.

To the side is a hallway lined with two doors. The first is very clearly labeled ‘Maintenance storage’ as indicated by a brass plate which is, for some reason, duct taped to the door. The other door leads to a spacious office highlighted by a sign reading “K. Setou.”

Kenji Setou.

Please let it be a coincidence. There is no way the guy living across from me leads some kind of separate life where he’s the manager of a biological research lab.

...But what if he was? What if Kenji is some kind of child savant? He never goes to classes, and yet he makes relatively good grades. His theories are ridiculous at best, but they’re still well constructed; there’s logic behind them, somehow.

Inside, however, there’s no mad science experiments or strategic planning against feminist oppression. It’s actually a normal office, in relative terms.

A single desk topped with a mess of papers and miscellaneous pens alongside a computer. Shoulder-height filing cabinets line every wall of the office, with the space above covered with posters of things like safety procedures and guidelines.

The only thing that really sticks out is a plastic figure of a guy with spiky black hair in an orange training suit sitting on the corner of the desk, next to a picture frame.

Sitting in a rolling chair behind the desk is a man with combed-back black hair, tapping away on a cell phone with his feet propped up on the desk as if to show off his shiny black dress shoes. His entire form is clad in a black business suit mixed with a white work shirt, a silver tie hanging from his collar.

At first glance, there's nothing remarkable about him, but that might be because there's no noticeable flaws. He has everything in order – from the length of his tie to the amount of polish on his shoes.

I rap my knuckles against the doorway a few times to get his attention. It seems to work well enough, as shown by his glancing up and asking “Hisao Necktie?”

“Nakai.” I reply.

“Nakai… Ah, alright. My handwriting here is terrible, heh.” he says, laughing off the mistake. “My name is Tetsuo Shuugetsu. We talked over the phone yesterday, right?”

Wait, wait, wait. Why is this Shuugetsu guy in K. Setou’s office? Was I right about all of the other managers taking a day off?

“About the job interview, yes. It’s nice to meet you.” I answer.

I bow my head in respect as he gestures for me to take a seat. Instead of continuing onto business, however, he looks me up and down a few times.

“Did you buy that suit at Lyra’s?” he asks with a hint of surprise.

Lyra…?

“Oh, yeah, the suit store a couple of blocks away?”

“Yes, exactly! You’ve got good taste. We’re going to get along real well, I can already feel it.” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Mr. Shuugetsu shuffles some papers around and tries to organize everything as I take a seat, doing my best to sit up straight as he focuses all his attention on me.

“So, I guess I’ll go ahead and start by telling you what I’m doing here. Normally these interviews would be done by the senior maintenance technician, but we’re doing things a little differently now, which is why we’ve commandeered his office.” he begins, laughing at his own joke. “As I mentioned over the phone, I’m the head of employee relations. And, well, simply put; I’d like to get a better handle on who I’ve got on the floor here.”

“And more importantly, on the payroll.” he adds, this time only giving himself a short chuckle.

I can’t help but get the impression that he watches too much comedy. There's just something off about all of his jokes; I'm sure he'd seem charming to others, but I can't shake the thought that he's trying too hard.

“So you’d rather meet all of your employees face to face, instead of hearing about them through performance reports?”

“Precisely! A fast learner, too. I like that.” He comments. “Alright, so, let’s get some clerical stuff sorted out first. The only physical application I have from you is a couple of sticky notes.”

Now that he mentions it, there’s a couple of yellow post-it notes hanging from the computer monitor on the desk. The handwriting is crude and rushed, although I still can’t see how he mixed up ‘Nakai’ and ‘Necktie.’

“Could you just fill these out real quick? Won’t take any time at all.” He states before pushing a few sheets of paper and a pen in my direction.

I figured there was something off about all this. They're definitely desperate for workers; even a grocery store wouldn't have called for me without an application on file.

I uncap the pen and begin filling out the information on auto-pilot. Name, date of birth, residential status, phone number…

Academic background?

No point in trying to lie about it. I’m sure they can do background checks anyway. No doubt someone will see me walking around in my uniform someday as well.

I write in ‘Yamaku Academy’ before adding on the names of all my previous schools, from the high school I started at all the way through pre-school. There’s a few lines left, presumably for someone with more experience.

From there it’s a summary of my qualifications. In my case, however, it’s a lack thereof, and I’m left trying to write in a few lines about my abilities as a general worker -- I could throw around generic things like ‘good time management’ and ‘efficient with a computer’ and it would be better than nothing at all.

As I fill in all of the necessary information, Shuugetsu taps away on his phone with both thumbs, giving a dissatisfied grumble as each reply rolls in. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to me, although I can’t see why he’d need to since it'd be pretty hard to cheat on something like this.

I flip over to the second page to be welcomed to more of the same: fields I can’t fill out. I have no work history at all, so I’m forced to leave half of the page blank before getting to a couple of lines titled ‘interests and relevant activities.’

Well, I’m interested in science. That’s about all I have that could be relevant to the job, unless I want to lie and toss in something like ‘floor sweeping is my favorite pastime.’

The only other blank left is ‘references.’

Could I use Mutou as my reference? Is Mutou my reference? He said he put in a good note with me, which could be why I’m getting this option in the first place. I write in the name just in case, although I’m quick to be shamed by the fact that I don’t know his first name, or his phone number.

There’s one other person I know in the professional world, but I’m not entirely sure she’d be a credible reference. I write ‘Akira Satou’ into the blank before starting to write down her cell number, but part of me decides that it’s all a bad idea and crosses the whole thing out a few times.

It’s probably for the best. She’s been a good friend so far, so I’m sure she’d wind up exaggerating and painting me as some kind of management genius.

I glance over the form from top to bottom a few times before capping the pen and pushing back to his end of the desk, my face flushed with embarrassment as I relent over how little reason he has to hire me.

He finishes tapping away another message before grabbing the two sheets of paper and reading them down, asking questions as he goes along.

“Yamaku Academy?” he starts, looking up at me.

Of course he’s going to ask about that first. Everyone around here knows about that place.

“Yes, sir.” I answer, unable to think of anything preemptive to add.

“That’s very interesting. I hate to bring up questions like this, but I'm obligated as your potential employer to ask, so, uh…”

“I have a condition, yes. It’s a type of arrhythmia.” I answer before he can even utter the dreaded words ‘what’s your problem?’

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at my reply. “Arrhythmia? Irregular heartbeat is an awfully difficult thing to be living with.”

Muddled up electronic signals that kick the equilibrium of my heart out the window. He got the irregular heartbeat part right though, so I can't add much without throwing needless jargon around.

“I think I can agree with that.” I answer. The next few words take some effort to squeeze out of my mouth, since I'm shooting down my chances of my own free will. “I won't be able to do anything that requires me to sprint anywhere, but I think I'm pretty efficient when I work at my own pace.”

I expect him to tell me to leave right then and there, but it seems like he only gets more interested from my reply.

“Really? And you can work through that? That's amazing! I won't pry into your personal affairs, all I'm concerned about is whether you can make it through the day.” The man across from me returns, beaming an impressed smile.

...Okay, that's different. Did not see that coming at all.

“And you're close to graduating from high school, right?” He asks while writing a few things into the margin of my application paper.

“Yeah, I'm in my last year.”

“It'll be over before you know it, don't worry.” He comments with a grin. “College is where the fun begins, trust me on that one.”

So I’ve heard.

“I can see that you left the qualifications space blank. No formal training or anything?” He continues.

“Nothing in particular, no.” I reply with a bit of shame, having to keep control of my facial expressions to stop a grimace from emerging.

Once again, however, my expectations are overloaded when he asks “do you know anything about lab safety? Disposal of chemicals, what you are and aren't allowed to pour down the sink, how to neutralize acids and bases, stuff like that?”

Of course I do. That's the first thing we learn about. You're not allowed to participate in any hands-on stuff until you pass that mundane lab safety quiz at the beginning of each year. Of course, the test from my old school didn’t carry over; so I had to stay after class some time during the first week to get it done here.

“We’ve covered most of that in school, yeah.” I answer.

With a snap of his finger, he returns my comment with “boom, you’re qualified,” before scribbling away some more things on the application paper.

“Wait, what? That’s it? Aren’t there hundreds of rules about these things? What about all the regulations with living specimens and such?” I ask.

“Oh, don’t worry, little buddy; there are plenty of rules and regulations. Chemical storage, specimen disposal, emergency codes, all that good stuff. You’re a quick learner though, so I’m not going to let myself worry about it.” He replies, relaxing in the chair as if some kind of weight were lifted off his shoulders.

“A man dropped off a letter yesterday as well, Mutou, I think his name was? He had a lot of good things to say about you. I don't know him personally, but I've heard that he and one of our research affiliates, Mr. Solus, go back a ways, so he's credible. I can see that you’ve got this Mutou fellow in your references as well.” He adds on, as if trying to pile up the things supporting me.

From there, he no doubt tries to focus on the other reference I had added before crossing it out, squinting his eyes as he attempts to read the scribbled out mark.

Despite that, he’s talking like I already have the job. I understand that I should be happy about such a thing, but after walking around in here, I can’t help but wonder what I'm in for. There’s two floors I haven’t even seen yet, as well as a manager who may very well be the father of the most insane person I’ve ever known.

And that doesn’t even cover the interview. Why does it feel like we’re already finished? I thought job interviews were supposed to be long, grueling processes that test the mental integrity of the prospective worker. I haven’t heard a single uncomfortable question as of yet, other than the one concerning my heart condition.

“I’ll try not to let you down” are the only words I’m able to muster.

“Good, that’s what I love to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be taken, by any chance?” He answers with a straight face, as if it were a normal thing to ask.

“What?!” I ask, veering back in my chair.

At this, he bursts into full-blown laughter, gripping his sides as his bellowing giggles echo throughout the office.

“Sorry, just messing with you. Hope you weren’t getting your hopes up.” He adds on with some sort of faux wink, which only causes him to chuckle once again.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. The sense of humor seems familiar in the most uncanny of ways, but the delivery is different. He gets too much amusement out of his own jokes, even the small ones. It doesn’t help that the edge is dulled by his spiritless voice.

That’s the strangest thing about him. Everything seems… stale. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to describe it, but I get the feeling that he’s been through this routine hundreds of times. It’s just a rehearsed act by this point, there’s no feeling to it.

It’s not at all like Akira’s sense of humor. She doesn’t take so much pleasure in her own jokes; it’s like she gets more enjoyment out of hearing the responses to her jabs and smart-aleck comments. Laughter to meet laughter, not laughter to create laughter.

I’m definitely thinking about this too hard. They’re two unrelated people; everyone has different tastes in comedy.

“Anyway, you’re the only person I’ve interviewed for this position so far. I’ll need to run these notes by Mr. Setou to make sure he's on board, but I'm fairly certain we'll be seeing you again.” He comments, straightening out a stack of papers.

“Ah, thank you. Will there be any sort of orientation?” I ask.

“Nope, Spartan training for you.” Shuugetsu replies with a devilish grin.

I attempt to chuckle at his answer, although I'm only able to offer an awkward cough.

“Yeah, you’re probably going to be scheduled for Friday around four or five so you can meet everyone and get a feel for the place.” He begins, sounding rather upbeat despite his failed attempt at making a joke.

“Maintenance runs from five in the afternoon to ten in the evening for reasons you’ll learn about later. That kind of a schedule won't be interfering with your studies, correct?” he asks, laying the notes aside and concentrating on me.

“It shouldn't, no.” I answer.

Getting back to the dorm at eleven every night might mess with my head after a while, but I'm sure I can manage. I'll get used to it, right?

“Good man. Well, that's about all I have to say. Mr. Setou will be able to fill you in on all the specifics and details when you come in for orientation. I'd be there as well, but I've got other business that day. Any more questions?”

...What's the pay rate here?

Act 3 - Part 5-2: Qualifications

Clicking the button atop the plastic slab in my hand causes the screen to light up, indicating that it's already nine in the evening.

The sign nearby also highlights that the next bus into town left less than a minute ago, so I’m stuck here for the next half-hour. Maybe more, depending on how slow they’re running today.

At first, I open the texting menu on my screen and start to type up a greeting to the only girl in my phone that isn’t my mother. On impulse, however, I decide to call the number rather than send plain text messages. Maybe the wait will go by quicker if I'm having a conversation in real time rather than waiting for replies to appear every few minutes.

The ringing tone makes me question my decision rather quickly as I begin to imagine the possibility of somehow interrupting a meeting with her parents, or waking her up from a nap, or…

Cell phones mess with hospital equipment right? What are the chances that she’s visiting her aunt right now, and I somehow just interfered with someth-

“What’s up?” A familiar voice on the other end greets.

Okay, she’s answering, and she doesn’t sound the least bit angry or tired. I need to get rid of all this unwarranted paranoia.

“Hey. How’s Scotland?” I reply.

It already sounds like she's outside – you can hear the breeze on the other end.

“It’s fun so far. Lilly and I have been out touring the city most of the time. Inverness is a pretty great place.” She responds in a contented tone.

Well at least she’s enjoying herself so far. There’s some kind of ambient noise in the background too -- maybe seagulls?

“That’s good. How’s your aunt?” I ask.

It’s nice to hear her voice again. Text messaging may be more convenient, but it’s not as satisfying as an actual phone call. I’m not feeling particularly shy about talking this way either, since the bus stop is vacant except for me and the occasional passerby.

“She’s… stable. I was only able to see her for a bit before the doctors started running more tests.”

Stable. That just means she's not at risk of dying anymore, she still has to make a recovery. I’ve spent enough time in a hospital to know that much.

“I’ve been visiting everyone else too. Mother hasn’t changed too much, and my father is still… well, no point talking about that now.” She continues on, laughing off the thought.

Those noises in the background keep getting to me. Those are definitely seagulls, and now I think I hear the tides too.

“At least you’re enjoying yourself. What have you been up to? It sounds like you're at the beach.”

“Bingo.” Akira replies. “Finally found time to make it out here, heh. Lilly’s here too.”

I hear a faint ‘hello’ in the background, no doubt coming from the younger Satou sister. I’m tempted to reply with a cheesy ‘tell Lilly I said hi’ comment, but my mind is currently occupied by more pressing matters.

“Did you make a decision?” I ask.

If this were a text message, I could send something cheeky like ‘so, you went with the bikini, right?’ But this is a conversation in real-time, so I have to have a bit more tact. It doesn’t help that it’s her in particular I’m talking to.

“A decision? About what?” She responds.

“Remember a few days ago when you asked about needing a new swimsuit?” I reply.

An amused laugh rings out from the other end of the phone before Akira answers with “it’s a private beach, so I decided to go with a two-piece. And yeah, it’s checkered, you little perv.”

A checkered bikini?! Mother of g-

Wait, no, that’s not what I should be questioning.

A private beach?! Mother of god, just how wealthy is her family?

“Glad you took my suggestion.” I comment, trying to chuckle away the blood rushing to my head. “It must be nice having a private beach.”

“Yep, it’s pretty great, actually. I hate to admit it, but I’m liking things here a whole lot more than I’m comfortable with. How about over there? The city hasn’t exploded while we’ve been gone, right?”

“Nah, it’s still standing. I’m actually there right now; just finished a job interview.”

“Moving up in the world, are you? Just be careful with what you choose to do; hold onto your education, even when life tries to knock it out of you.” She replies.

“I hear you. I’m just trying to figure out how far I can go.” I say.

That sounds so deep, in a way.

“Everyone’s gotta do some soul searching every once in a while; I’m not gonna criticize you for that. More importantly, what kind of a job are you going for?” Akira counters, sounding enthusiastic.

As much as I’d love to answer with something cool or interesting, all I can offer is “maintenance worker for a biology lab in the city.”.

“Ooh, sounds like fun. You been hired yet, or are they still getting all the paperwork sorted out?”

“Still in the works, yeah. I think I’m gonna be the one they choose though.”

Mostly because I think I’m the only one they interviewed. Shuugetsu seemed awfully happy to be hiring someone with no experience whatsoever, too. Are they really desperate for a cleaning guy?

“Aww, dang. I was looking for a coffee boy, too.” Akira answers with a snicker.

There was just the tiniest bit of wistfulness to it, though. Like it’s something she actually wants.

“Yeah, that’s every guy’s dream job. Running a pot of coffee back and forth for his female boss.” I jab back.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had any objections starting out like that. Coffee makes connections.” She retorts.

“I’ll consider it. There’d better be some amazing benefits included, though.” I respond.

“Retirement, sick leave, paid vacation, and weekly massages. We’d have you covered.” Akira replies with a light chuckle. “Well, the first three are guaranteed anyway. Company-mandated back massages are the first thing I’d do as CEO. Screw the profit margins.” she muses.

I know it’s supposed to be a joke, but I am rather curious as to just how much good a day at the spa would do for Akira. Maybe something like a twenty-four hour pass would make a great gift for her birthday, whenever that i-

ACK.

They come back in a few days, right?! Should I get something as a welcome back present?

What would Akira even want? And on that note, what would I get Lilly if I decided to go through with it? Would it be wrong if I got Akira something, but not Lilly? She is my classmate after all.

“Very tempting;” I comment as the thought dances through my mind. “I think I’ll stick to what I’ve got now, though. It bridges into the future I think I’d like to pursue, so I’m getting more out of it than just a paycheck.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure I can find someone else to run around with a pot of coffee all day. I’ll bet we could hire a chimp to do it.” She replies with an off-handed giggle. “No offense, by the way.”

“None taken.” I counter, with a chuckle. ”So, what else have you got planned while you’re there?”

“Well, as much as I’d love to sit here on the beach and work on the tan I haven’t had in years; I do have business to tend to, though. I actually have an interview of my own to take care of, concerning an offering from my father. And then there’s the uh… family collection I need to spend some time with.” She answers, trying to dance around the matter as she mentions the last idea.

“Family collection? What is it? A bunch of records and photo albums?”

It seems like something a wealthy or affluent family would have. After spending so much time away from her parents, I’m sure she’d want to go over a few pictures, maybe try reminiscing with the family she hasn’t seen in a while.

She pauses for a few moments before responding with “they have a pretty big cellar here. Cellars are really good for storing wine. Do you know what I’m getting at?”

Oh. I’m overthinking it again.

“Got a soft spot for wine, then?” I ask, unable to keep from laughing.

“Lilly, Manzai comedy acts, and wine are my three loves in this world. I love my mother to death as well, but saying ‘my four loves’ feels weird.” Akira responds with a hint of guilt.

I can see Lilly being included in that list. I’ve never seen them together, but I can imagine them being closer than any other siblings I’ve met. Manzai acts are something foreign to me though; isn’t that some kind of comedy with married couples?

And wine is her third love. If she was born to a wealthy family, then I can see that trickling down from her relatives. There’s just something about class and wine that goes hand-in-hand, for some reason.

“Well don’t get too carried away. I don’t want to hear any stories about you drinking too much and picking a fight with the butler.” I respond, chuckling. “As amusing as I’m sure they’d be.”

She laughs along with me before countering with “hey, Mr. MacLeod has had it coming since day one.”

Mr. MacLeod? I don’t even want to know.

Not that I have time to worry about any qualms she may have with the manservant. A crowd has begun to gather around the bus stop, indicating that the next shuttle is bound to arrive soon.

“But you don’t have to worry about me getting drunk. Wine is special; I try not to get carried away when it’s involved. Not saying it never happens, though.” She adds.

It would seem that it’s almost time for work to end at the biology lab as well, as I can recognize a few of the men that were previously wearing sterile white lab coats now grouped together as they walk by.

Shuugetsu is with them as well, although he’s more focused on his cell phone rather than the conversation at hand, thumbing away at its keys with what could almost be considered ferocity.

“I believe you. I might have to let you go soon, since the bus is almost here.” I reply, unable to shift my focus from the man across the street.

After punching a few numbers into the keypad, he raises the phone up to his ear, his foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

“Alright, take it easy, Hisao. Perfect timing too, heh, someone’s on the other line.” Akira returns.

At that, the sound of a beep indicates the end of the phone call.

She’s having fun over in Scotland, at least, so that’s good. The mental imagery surrounding a beach trip is still lingering in my head, but right now my brain is occupied by something a little more perplexing.

Shuugetsu makes a call, and Akira has to hang up and take a call a few moments after he does so. Normally I’d dismiss it as something of a fluke, but there’s just something in my gut nagging at me. No matter how you look at it; that’s one hell of a coincidence.

I don't think you needed to be quite so blunt in pointing out the connection there (trust your readers!), but otherwise it's good stuff as usual.

I am definitely enjoying the story so far, but unfortunately the only other comment I have is...

Thanatos02 wrote:A checkered bikini?! Mother of g-

Wait, no, that’s not what I should be questioning.

A private beach?! Mother of god, just how wealthy is her family?

It's... Diabarnacle.

Sorry, couldn't resist

Nice update; you seem to be foreshadowing future events, and doing a good job of it, as well.

nemz wrote:I don't think you needed to be quite so blunt in pointing out the connection there (trust your readers!), but otherwise it's good stuff as usual.

We're not fools! We're just foolish! There's a difference (kind of)!

Nicely done! The flirting over the phone dialogue was well written.