Track 1 - Her

“And can you guess what the mutt said after that?”

I’m talking with someone.

The topic being, as always, about the stupid, ridiculous, meaningless things that happen in my life. With her never failing to listen quietly by my side.

“He said I’m his friend. Hilarious, right?”

I let out a laugh, finding the thought hysterical, but she remains silent.

It’s a rare, uneventful weekend.

The early afternoon sunshine filters in through the window.

All alone, I lie on my bed and mutter listlessly, “Ah man, my life is so pointless.”

She stays quiet, so I’m not sure what her reaction is.

I wonder what she’s thinking right now? Not that it matters.

It’s easier not knowing.

I sense someone approaching from the other side of the wall.

The pace of their steps, the weight of their footfalls, the rhythm of their stride, their body’s innate presence, and the way they tend to walk with their toes landing first. I know exactly who it is.

“What’re they trying to get me into this time?”

 As I say this, there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah, yeah, come on in.”

I sit up and respond, and as expected, the chief of HAMA Tours opens the door.

“Oh… Sorry, Ten-kun. Were you talking to someone? I hope I didn’t interrupt…”

Wow… Chief, your hearing is pretty good.

 The thought crosses my mind, but I don’t bother voicing it.

This person can be keen one moment and clueless the next. They’re okay to toy with sometimes, but my gut tells me it’s better not to cross any lines.

Plus, they’re constantly surrounded by people, so messing with them would end up biting me in the ass. That’s the kind of person they are.

“It’s all good, I already hung up.”

“Oh, was it a friend? Or perhaps…a lover?”

The chief says it jokingly, which is strange, seeing as they don’t usually tease people like this.

In fact, right after saying it, they turned beet red with a face that said, “Forget I said that.”

But I get what they’re trying to do. We aren’t that close yet, so they want to try to break the ice and see if we can become buddies, right?

Too bad it’s me they’re talking to. A dog would fall for it though.

“Um…”

When I pretend to be bothered by their comment, the chief goes a bit pale. I can see it written on their face again, “Oh no, I went too far.”

But I guess I was technically talking to her. A lover, huh? Is that what it looks like?

It doesn’t matter either way, so I respond, “Well, something like that.” The chief looks a little embarrassed by it.

“O-Oh, is that so…Ten-kun, you’re pretty popular with the ladies, huh?”

The simple-minded chief falls for it, getting flustered and apologizing, “Sorry for prying.” 

Well, I am pretty popular, so I might as well let them think what they want.

But honestly, so what if I am? All it does is give me an edge in my line of work.

“Anyways, did you need something?”

“Oh, that’s right! Yuki-nii is making shumai tonight, so we were talking about having a shumai party. We were wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Ah, I see.

Apparently, a bunch of people have the day off today, so all the bored ones gathered in the living room to hang out. If a certain dog were here, he would’ve pestered me to join, but today he’s off filming or something, so I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet alone. Anyways, I guess things got lively down there, and now they’re thinking about having a shumai party.

Yukikaze Kamina’s shumai are pretty good, so I figured it wouldn’t be so bad to join in—but then, I saw a shadow flash by outside the window.

“Sorry, I’ve got a temp job lined up tonight.”

“Oh, I see. Gotcha, I’ll save the leftovers so you can heat them up tomorrow!”

The good-natured chief, or should I say overly kind-hearted, looks a bit disappointed, but quickly takes a step back and leaves the room.

I turn my attention to the window and as usual, a crow is perched on a tree, staring at me. A cold light flashes for a moment in its black, marble-like eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, time for work.”

I sigh, picking up my phone. I’ll let her know too.

“I know we were in the middle of talking but…I’ll see you later. I’m heading off to work.” 

She’ll probably be waiting for me.

Not for some vague existence named Ten Murakumo…just me.

“Hey newbie, I told you not to put shrimp in it! They told us in advance that one of the big shots is allergic! Stop screwing around!”

The kitchen becomes an unforgiving battlefield you wouldn’t expect of a high-class hotel during a large-scale party, with dishes being served one after the other like soldiers heading off to war.

There’s not a shred of elegance or grace to be found.

The way the sous chef scolds the inexperienced commis chef makes him seem more like a Yakuza than someone dedicated to the art of flavor.

The sounds of clanging pots and pans, footsteps of prepared dishes being carried out, empty glasses being carelessly thrown in the sink—it’s a cacophony to the ears. Everyone from the head chef to the lowest ranking hall staff is on edge and annoyed at how they can’t seem to keep up with the orders.

Well, I’m also just a lowest-of-the-low, temp part-time server.

“I’ll get the drinks ready over here, and I’ve already finished cleaning this area.”

As I quickly prepare the flute glass I’m holding, the hall manager asks me, “Hey you, you work fast. What was your name again?” To which I flash my fakest service smile and respond,

“It’s Tanaka Daka~”

“Tanaka Da…?”

Man, it’s such a pain staying under the radar during these one-off jobs.

Just as I’m thinking that, I feel a small vibration from behind my ear.

I lightly tap the tip of my shoe on the ground, and a tower of dirty glasses wobbles before collapsing with a crash from behind the chief. 

“Woah! What the hell, who’s in charge of the dishes!?”

As the hall chief turns his attention away, I promptly slip out of the chaotic kitchen unnoticed. Putting my drinks in a nearby serving cart, I make my way to the glamorous party venue.

Unlike the cheap, shabby kitchen, the sight that greets me is one of sheer opulence. Lavish chandeliers, plush carpets stretching as far as the eye can see, glamorous decorations, and crowds of people everywhere.

I decipher the signals being sent from the communication device behind my ear, confirm my position, and navigate through the crowded venue. No one spares me a second glance, since I’m wearing a waiter’s uniform.

The hall is filled with men in suits, women in nightdresses, alcohol, perfume, and cigarettes, as well as the intense, permeating stench of money and power, with plaques on stage celebrating politician’s names and dates as if they were things every citizen should recognize.

No matter how you look at it, this place is filled with mayhem, laughter, and ridicule.

That said, I’ll still do my job. It seems to be the only reason I’m alive, after all.