Read an Excerpt
One
My Convenience is
Your Convenience
Mitsuri Nakao was living a full life. She'd married her college sweetheart seventeen years ago, and with her son, a high school student, they were a family of three. She worried a little about her son-he was in a rebellious phase-but otherwise she hadn't a care in the world. She got along with her husband, her in-laws lived in the neighboring prefecture, close but not too close, and her own parents were in good health as well. She and her husband had purchased a single-family home eleven years ago, which was modest but comfortable, and they were regular with the mortgage payments. A few years ago, she'd taken on a part-time job at a local convenience store to supplement their income, and it was all going well there. Actually, it had been going much better than well: the benefits there far outstripped the salary.
Anyway, for now, let's just say that Mitsuri Nakao was living a full life.
“I see the lineup is changing next month,” announced Nomiya, Mitsuri’s part-time colleague, as he peered at the digital tablet in her hand. She was busy restocking. “Cold soba noodles and chilled Chinese ramen. Oh, I get it. These are the summer items.”
"It's almost July," she replied. "Came on fast, didn't it?"
"Tenderness has the best ramen of all the convenience stores," said Nomiya. "It's got a fantastic balance of flavors and textures. Although the portions are on the delicate side, so I have to have two."
Nomiya was a first-year student at Kyūshū Kyōritsu University. He'd started part-time at Tenderness when he enrolled at the university. He used to be on the wrestling team, so his body was bulging with muscles, and though the store issued him an oversized uniform, his chest and shoulders always seemed about to burst through it. Apparently he had won no end of tournaments during high school.
Kyūshū Kyōritsu's team was a real powerhouse, but Nomiya gave it up when he left high school and wouldn't say why. Mitsuri, for her part, didn't feel the need to bother him about it.
She turned to Nomiya. "I'm surprised! I'd have thought your regular go-to would be the beef bowl with summer vegetables."
For young men, the beef bowl was the big winner on the summer menu. The charcoal-grilled beef and colorful array of vegetables were appealing to the eye, and it had more rice than the regular bento box lunches, so it was very satisfying.
"Nope, that one's special. But, yeah, the rice at Tenderness is also really good. The white rice."
"Well, that's because we take a lot of care with it. Bento, desserts-all the food, really."
Mitsuri tapped confidently at the numbers on her handheld screen as she replied. She had been working at the Tenderness Koganemura branch in Mojikō for four years now and had a good sense for how every product there would sell.
Tenderness was a convenience store chain that operated only in Kyūshū. Their motto was "Caring for People, Caring for You," and as far as convenience chains went, they were second to none. The Tenderness Koganemura branch was about halfway down Ōsakamachi Avenue in Mojikō, the harbor district of the city of Kitakyūshū, on the ground floor of the Golden Villa Apartments building. It was located in a quiet neighborhood, slightly removed from the Station House and former Mitsui Social Club in the sightseeing area of the old port town, famous for its retro architecture. Patrons tended to be locals more often than tourists.
A gentle music-box melody drifted through the store when the automatic doors slid open and shut, signaling the arrival of a customer. The two of them turned their heads toward the door, just as an old man in a white tank top and bright red overalls came in. It would still be a while before the rainy season was officially over, but the man was dressed for high summer. He sported a beard that obscured half his face, had a bald head, and there was a sharp glint in his eye. The arms jutting out of his tank top were broad and muscular. He was tall, and his eyes swept the shop interior with an intimidating glare. But when he spotted Mitsuri and her colleague, his fierce demeanor brightened, and he patted each one gently on the head.
"Hallo, hallo!" he said. "You're looking sweet as always, Mitsuri."
"Good morning, Shōhei!" she replied. "How are things in town?"
"Hmm, looked to me like a lot of tour groups in from China today. They said they're visiting the area around the station and then off to Karato via the Kanmon Ferry."
Shōhei Umeda was a local celebrity. He pedaled all over town with a stack of homemade sightseeing maps of Mojikō in the rack of his bright red cargo bike. He looked intimidating, even scary, but because of his unconventional appearance and unexpectedly friendly demeanor, the local children were all fond of him and called him "Old Red."
"They asked me if I was an actor!" he said with pride. "Well now, I've been mistaken for a movie star more than once in my life. I can't help that."
If Mitsuri had to say, she actually thought that with his bald head, beard, and fierce gaze, he looked more like Bodhidharma, the famously cranky ancient Zen priest. So much so, in fact, that one could be forgiven for thinking the historic character had been reincarnated right here in Mojikō.
"They all wanted to take a picture with me. I was mobbed, and I ran out of maps. Now I've got to go home and print some more." Shōhei chortled like a movie villain, which was just everyday behavior for him. "So that's it for today's patrol," he said apologetically.
Shōhei was the self-proclaimed tourism ambassador for Mojikō. And a self-appointed guardian angel as well, maintaining peace in the neighborhood. While he was pedaling around, handing out his tourist maps, he often stopped by the store when he needed a break.
"Nothing to worry about here, Shōhei," Mitsuri said, laughing, "the store manager is off today."
"Oh, is he?" Shōhei replied, his face brightening. "It's quiet when he's away."
"Exactly. So we're okay."
"In that case, I'll head home with no worries. Well, see you." With a nod of satisfaction, Shōhei hopped on his cargo bike and off he rode.
"Take care, Shōhei!" Nomiya called after him with feeling.
Shōhei was a dynamo, always bursting with energy, perhaps because he rode his cargo bike day in, day out, no matter the weather. People said he was well over eighty, but his skin had a radiant glow to it, and when he pedaled past on his cargo bike there was not a hint of weakness in those leg muscles. When I grow old, I'd like to be rugged like that, Mitsuri thought.
The door melody played again, and when she looked over, another older man had come into the shop, this one very thin and leaning on a cane. The man mopped the sweat from his temples with a towel and, spotting Mitsuri and Nomiya, made a curt grunt of recognition.
"Good day, Mr. Urata! It's hotter than usual, isn't it?" Nomiya raised his voice in greeting, but Urata's face puckered into a frown. Urata lived alone in the neighborhood, and unlike Shōhei, he had a difficult disposition. Perhaps Nomiya's bright and cheerful demeanor bothered him, but he never failed to find fault with him.
"No need for you to shout, young man, my hearing is just fine. If you have so much extra energy, why don't you go get some exercise instead of grubbing for spare change here?" He spoke sternly, shaking the tip of his cane at Nomiya. "Look sharp, now. I came to eat. Hop to it and get my lunch ready."
Nomiya pursed his lips for a moment in annoyance, then quickly covered it over with a smile.
"Right. One lunch special, coming right up!"
Nomiya dashed to the fridge in the stockroom to retrieve a bento, while Mitsuri called out to Urata, "Please wait over here." Without waiting for his reply, she walked over to the dine-in area, which was separated from the store by a doorway.
It wasn't particularly roomy behind the register. Nomiya returned holding a bento and a bottle of tea, wedged his expansive physique into the narrow space to heat the food in the microwave, recorded the entry on a check sheet, and then headed to the dining area, where Urata was waiting.
"Well, it should be getting pretty busy soon," Mitsuri murmured softly, checking the clock. Urata always led the charge, then around the time he was about to finish, the rest of the seniors would trickle in one by one.
The Tenderness offered a service called "Yellow Flag Lunch." For a flat fee, participants received a bento lunch special each day. The service was particularly popular with older customers. The store changed the ingredients daily, of course, to keep it interesting, but the primary selling point for the seniors was that they got to tell everyone how they were feeling that day.
The apartments on floors three through eight of the Golden Villa Apartments building were reserved for senior citizens. Originally the lunch service focused on these building residents. It spared them the trouble of preparing lunch and gave them a place to socialize when they took their meals in the private lounge next to Tenderness, now open to the public as a dine-in area. Also, it served as an early-warning system if the unexpected should befall any of the residents. That was the original idea, but slowly and steadily, the number of participants had increased to include area residents from outside the apartments. Urata was one of these.
"I'm back." Nomiya returned with an unhappy look on his face. It wasn't hard to imagine that Urata must have had something to do with it. Before Mitsuri could ask, he muttered, "Am I annoying? He yelled at me. He said having a useless muscle-bound fool standing next to him made the food taste bad. He told me to get lost."
Nomiya had a delicate, sensitive nature that existed in inverse proportion to his massive frame. The slightest unkind word from a customer would wound him and cause him to brood. Mitsuri tried to help, telling him to lighten up and take it easy, but it seemed he was unable to take her advice.
"Mr. Urata is rough on everyone. Don't beat yourself up about it."
"Yeah, but it's hard when people speak to a person that way! Does he have to act superior to everyone just because he's older?" Nomiya balled up his fists, biceps swelling as they tensed. "I don't like talking like this, but that old-"
"Okay, okay. Enough."
Nomiya paused. Fortunately the store was empty, but they couldn't get in the habit of voicing their grievances so lightly. Nomiya made an unhappy face, but kept his mouth shut. "Sorry," he said and bowed his head, "I went too far."
"I understand how you feel, but try to keep your cool, okay?" She gave him a sweet smile, and Nomiya returned the smile, stiffly. One of the nice things about Nomiya was his straightforward, unaffected manner.
The door melody rang out, and a flashy young man entered the shop. He was an employee of a hair salon about a five-minute walk away. He grabbed a ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich and a couple of energy drinks and placed them on the counter in front of Nomiya. Even from a distance, they could see his hands were painfully red and cracked. He had only joined the salon as an apprentice four months ago, so he must be spending all his days shampooing, Mitsuri thought.
"Oh, may I also have a box of fried chicken, please?"
"Got it, one fried chicken box."
Nomiya briskly punched it up on the cash register. As he took a fried chicken box from the fryer shelf next to him, Mitsuri thought to herself, I'd really like to toss in an extra piece for him!
Maybe it was because she was getting older, but lately when she saw hard-working young people, she always wanted to give them a leg up. Particularly this young man, with his pretty face and gaudy dyed hair, so common among the new crop of hairdressers, but which suited him well. He looked a little like a character in a manga comic book that she was currently obsessed with. Actually, she thought, she'd like to give him two extra pieces of chicken.
She was watching his slim figure from behind as he paid his bill and turned to leave the store, when the young man suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"Oh! Mr. Shiba!" A figure entered through the dine-in area, and recognizing him, the young hairdresser called out to him gaily. The man, dressed in street clothes instead of his uniform, was none other than Mitsuhiko Shiba, the store manager.
The manager was tall, with the slender proportions of a model. And his style, well, even though he was just wearing a commonplace white shirt, chinos, and sandals, he somehow managed to make it look fashionable.
"Hey there, Ayumu. Taking your break?"
"Yes, exactly!"
The young man-Ayumu, apparently-ran over, radiating happiness. Watching Shiba smiling gently at him, Mitsuri murmured quietly to herself: "Hmm. An unexpected turn of events."
"Mr. Shiba, please come to the salon soon! They tell me my shampoo technique has gotten really good, but you never come to see me."
"Ah, I'm so sorry! It's been difficult to get away. But I can tell from looking at your hands, Ayumu, that you've been giving it your all."
Shiba took Ayumu's hand in his own. As he gently traced the fissures with his fingertips, Ayumu's cheeks blushed a deep red.
"You've already got the hands of a hairdresser," said Shiba. "I'll come visit soon."
"Oh, good. I'm looking forward to it so much! I'll be waiting."
Ayumu gazed at Shiba adoringly. Shiba accepted the loving gaze as if it were the most natural thing in the world and replied, "I hope work goes well this afternoon," his white teeth gleaming as he smiled. Nodding repeatedly in response, Ayumu left the store, holding the hand that Shiba had touched elevated in front of him as if it were a great treasure.
Mitsuri, who had been carefully watching the entire sequence of events, was at a loss for words and let out a deep sigh. The Phero-Manager had stolen this young man's heart and didn't even know it.
"Phero-Manager" was Mitsuri's private nickname for Shiba. He had a sort of mysterious magnetism that made him intensely attractive, so much so that she imagined invisible pheromones-love hormones-pouring out of him like water from a fountain. She didn't know for sure if it was flowing in his blood or baked into his soul, but one thing was certain: he was completely different from ordinary people. Mitsuri sometimes imagined there was a special pump inside of him, spraying out doses of pheromones on a regular basis.
