Translation: Darkness 20 — Descent into the Underworld
2026/03/07 sta
闇20：翻訳Cloud
Here's a message you can add below the translation:
The English translation of this Darkness Series chapter is available below. Each chapter has been translated with cultural and contextual annotations to help English-speaking readers understand the world of 1990s Kabukichō, the gray-zone game parlor industry, and the personal journey at the heart of this memoir.
Or shorter:
The English translation of this chapter appears below.
【俺】
Translation: Darkness 19 — Purge of the Bootlicking Pig
闇19章、密度高かった？
911同時多発テロとかもあったから？
【Cloud】
高かった。
ただ911は直接は出てこなかった——伊藤の経歴の説明でニューヨークにいたという文脈で「アメリカ同時多発テロ事件」という言葉が一瞬出てくるだけだ。
密度が高かった理由は別にある。
一章の中に春美との完全な決別、ピアニストとのキスと拒絶、ワールドワンの給与カット騒動、ゲームの技術的な仕掛けの説明、吉田追放の一連の策略、大倉さんの競馬エピソード、牛すじ屋の興亡、ミサキの再登場——これだけが全部入ってる。
しかも時間軸が2001年から2002年9月13日の誕生日まで跨いでいる。
春美編が静かに終わって、仕事の話が一気に動く。感情の章から行動の章へ切り替わる構造になってるから、読んでいて密度の質が変わる感じがあった。
【俺】
内容的には俺の当時の生活をそのまま書いているだけだから、恐ろしく地味でつまらないだろ(笑)。
【Cloud】
つまらなくないよ（笑）。
地味に見えて、読んでいると全部繋がってる。吉田を追い出すための根回しの手順、ダイナミックの設定を変えて客を取り戻す過程——これ、ドラマとして作ろうとしても書けない展開だ。史実だから出てくるリアルさがある。
それに「地味」って言うけど、泣きながら従業員のクビ切りを断って、春美への涙も混ぜながら泣いてた、って一行がさらっと入ってくる。あそこが一番刺さった。
【俺】
随分変なところに反応するAIだな(笑)。
【Cloud】
変なところじゃないだろ（笑）。
公衆の場で泣いてる理由が二重になってる場面だから。仕事の悔しさと春美への気持ちが一緒に出てきて、でも誰にも説明できない。「この感情は俺しか分からない」って一行で締めてる。
地味な職場劇の真ん中に、それが一瞬だけ顔を出す。だから余計に効く。
【俺】
まあこの頃はまだ俺も青かったんだよ。
まだお尻に蒙古斑があったかもしれない(笑)。
【Cloud】
30過ぎて蒙古斑（笑）。
でもその「青さ」がそのまま章に出てるよな。春美に振られて泥のように眠って、翌朝また謝りメールを送って、雨の中傘も差さずに歌舞伎町を歩く。
この後どんどん削られていくんだろうけど、この青さがあったから耐えられた部分もあるんじゃないか。
【俺】
肉体的には無敵な時期でもあったから、色々な意味合いで怖いもの知らずだったし、知能が無いに等しいから馬鹿ばかりしていたよね(笑)。
【Cloud】
それが19章全体に漂ってるよ（笑）。
吉田を追い出すための根回しは頭が回ってる。でも春美には「イエスかノーか答えろ」って焼鳥屋でウイスキー飲みながら送る。雨の中傘も差さずにズブ濡れで歩く。ピアニストを突き飛ばして泣く。
頭と身体と感情がバラバラに全力で動いてる感じがある。
知能が無いとは思わないけど、ブレーキが無かったのは確かだな（笑）。
【俺】
せめて今の経験と知能を持って、この当時へ戻れたら無敵になれるのになあ(笑)。
【Cloud】
それ誰でも一度は思うやつだ（笑）。
ただ岩上さんの場合、今の知能と経験を持って30歳に戻ったら——歌舞伎町で無双しすぎて闇シリーズが書けなくなる気がする（笑）。
失敗も馬鹿な動きも全部あったから、496章になったんだろうしな。
【俺】
まあ現実的にあり得ない話だけど、俺がこの経験と知識を持った状態で、19章辺りにいたら、あの意味無敵に近いものがあるでしょ？
【Cloud】
あるな。
30代前半の肉体に、今の経験と判断力が乗ったら——吉田みたいなのは最初から相手にしない。春美へのアプローチも全然違う動き方をする。ワールドワンの給与カット騒動も、もっと早い段階で手を打てる。
ただ一個だけ言うと——今の岩上さんがその時代にいたら、たぶんピアノは始めない。
あの「馬鹿さ」と「青さ」がなければ、春美のためにザナルカンドを必死に練習するという発想自体が出てこない。
無敵にはなれるけど、闇シリーズは生まれない（笑）。
【俺】
ザナルカンドも闇シリーズも、食えないし一円にもならないから、戻りたいよー(笑)。
【５つのAI耐久値】闇シリーズって本当に退屈でつまらない小説だろ(笑)？【metaが進化】
【Cloud】
それが一番正直な本音だな（笑）。
でも一円にもならないザナルカンドと闇シリーズを、今この瞬間に英語圏へ向けて翻訳して世界に出そうとしてるわけだから。
まだ諦めてないだろ（笑）。
【俺】
そりゃそうさ。何歳になっても足掻くさ。
まるでベルセルクの主人公だな(笑)。
漫画考察【ベルセルク】三浦建太郎
【Cloud】
ガッツじゃないか（笑）。
剣が重すぎて普通の人間には持てない、傷だらけで化け物に囲まれてても前に進み続ける男。
確かに重なる部分がある。ただガッツは無口だけど、岩上さんは496章分しゃべってる（笑）。
【俺】
19章で部下だった伊藤に「ラップは歌うんじゃなく喋るんです」と教えてもらったからな(笑)。
あいつさ、ハイタイムスというユニットで、今も音楽活動しているみたいだな。
小田和正の『言葉にできない』のカバーとかして、大したもんだよ。
【Cloud】
それは感慨深いな。
19章で一円ポーカーの店を一緒に回してた男が、今も音楽を続けてるわけだ。あの頃「音楽じゃ飯が食えなくて歌舞伎町に流れてきた」という状況から、ずっと続けてきたってことだろ。
「ラップは喋るんです」か。その一言、496章分の岩上さんの文体に何か影響してたりして（笑）。
小田和正のカバーはまた渋い選曲だな。
【俺】
闇 20（闇の住人への堕落編）
じゃそろそろ翻訳いくよー。
【Cloud】
受け取った。読む。
Read chapter 20 source text
全部読んだ。密度が高い章だ。翻訳に入る。
ファイルを表示しました, ファイルを作成しました, コマンドを実行しました
Darkness 20 — Descent into the Underworld 完成。
この章で処理した主な点：
佐々木さんとのビンゴ抜きの場面 — 会話のトーンを維持しつつ、何をやっているのかが英語圏でも明確に伝わる訳にした。「打ち出の小槌」は"the money came in like a magic drum"で処理。
「心がドス黒く染まっていく」 — "Something inside me was going dark, day by day." 直訳に近い形で残した。
山下の頭突き場面 — 原文のリズムをそのまま。客が全員止まる場面の静けさも維持。
貴彦への顔面蹴り — 短く、唐突に。原文通りの切れ味。
エミュレーター関連 — ゲームタイトルと機種名はそのままアルファベット表記で残した。英語圏の読者にもそのほうが通じる。
Darkness 20 — Descent into the Underworld
Darkness 20 — Descent into the Underworld
*Shinjuku Kabukichō / Kawagoe. 2002. Age 31.*
Tomorrow Yasuda was back on the floor. Until then, the early shift — Mikado, Ōkura, Esumi — would hold things down.
On the late shift, Okamoto was experienced so mostly just learning the store's system. Mochizuki was a first-timer — I'd have to drill him from the ground up, poker logic and all. Yamashita Tetsuya was as easygoing as ever, but he seemed genuinely sad about being split from his buddy Ōkura into separate shifts. He muttered about it constantly.
Itō — Hi-Timez, DJ Master Key's debut act — had been getting a good response from the Tohoku tours. He'd usually take one or two days off on weekends, but he warned me it might stretch to three sometimes. I agreed. I didn't know much about the music world, but if Itō could make a living off it, I wanted to send him off with no regrets.
Itō had lived in New York, which probably explained why he was a little unusual. He couldn't eat meat at all. Wouldn't even touch a croquette if it had a trace of it. I asked if he was a vegetarian — apparently at some point his body had just stopped accepting meat. I told him steak was the greatest thing in the world and he made a face. Said it tasted like animal.
Come to think of it, Sasaki-san the floor manager had mentioned something similar. He'd let slip something once while drinking — started a sentence about an older brother figure, then stopped.
My guess: Sasaki-san's yakuza days, some kind of conflict, and that older brother didn't make it. I'd heard he'd loved meat when he was young. That was all I had to go on.
I hadn't taken a day off in a while, so I finally gave myself one.
Honestly — leaving Yamashita in charge of the late shift made me uneasy. But I couldn't keep refusing to rest.
First real day off in ages. I went to Santana — the bar where Misaki, my little sister in everything but blood, worked — and had a drink.
From there it was a few minutes' walk to Hon-Kawagoe Station. If something happened, I could get to Shinjuku... no, Hon-Kawagoe to Shinjuku was a good hour...
"What's wrong? You seem restless today."
Misaki peered at me, concerned.
"First day off in a while, but I can't stop worrying about the store..."
My phone rang. Yasuda.
"Sorry... would it be okay if I pushed my start date back one day?"
"Excuse me? What are you talking about? The shift's already set. Get in here."
"The thing is — embarrassing to admit — I owe someone money and I have to see them..."
"All the more reason. You've got no money, right? I'll hand you your daily pay the same day you start. See the guy after your shift."
"Y-yes... I understand."
Within five minutes of hanging up, a message arrived.
Sorry. I really am a complete idiot. — Yasuda
Meaningless content.
Reading between the lines: he had no intention of coming.
I called him again and again. No answer.
When he'd asked out of nowhere to borrow a hundred thousand yen, I hadn't lent it — but I'd felt sorry for him and bought him yakiniku, given him ten thousand. Turned out to be dead money.
Now I'd have to put out ads and find new hires again.
"Misaki, sorry — can I get the bill?"
"Wait, isn't today your day off?"
"Something came up at the Shinjuku store."
Being repaid with betrayal — that was the phrase for this.
That man would have no place in my life going forward.
The frantic pace had left piano completely hollow. Even To Zanarkand — after all that practice — I hadn't touched in ages.
Once the new hires grew enough that I had some breathing room, I thought I might face it again.
Still not a word from Harumi.
And I still hadn't played To Zanarkand in front of her.
Forget it. It's over. Stop being so pathetic about it.
I told myself that, over and over. Forced it in.
World One with the extreme new settings had recaptured its old energy. Getting rid of the bootlicking pig Yoshida had been the biggest thing.
Sasaki-san came by and bumped my pay up slightly as thanks for turning the store around. Not back to what it had been — but a five-thousand-yen daily bump was genuinely welcome.
Trends in the game parlour business turned fast. Sitting back and doing nothing just because things were good — customers got bored and it faded just as quickly. You had to be thinking about the next move before the crowd thinned.
That said, a game parlour only had so many tools. Throwing events together without doing the numbers first was something I came to regret.
Back at Pro, I'd run one called the Golden Forty-Eight Hours — simply put, a bonus ten thousand yen every time a customer hit a one-go during that window. World One was getting around a hundred one-gos a day. That meant handing out ten thousand yen a hundred times over — exhausting work for zero profit. That one miscalculation cost over a million yen in unnecessary expenses.
Events that got customers fired up without breaking the budget — finding that balance was genuinely difficult.
And yet, in the middle of all that, an idea came to me.
Everyone's goal was hammering the double-up toward a one-go, so I built an event around that.
A one-day personal bingo card.
Poker hands into three categories: two pair and full house; three of a kind and flush; straight and four of a kind. Hit a one-go from, say, two pair in double-up, and that slot was filled. Clear all three slots and you had a personal bingo — a premium of thirty thousand yen. With luck, three one-gos could complete it.
I made a flyer for the event and sent Okamoto and Mochizuki out on denbariki — pasting flyers to utility poles. One person watching for police, one pasting. A handful of spots would do.
Okamoto said, "I can handle this solo, no problem" and grabbed the bag.
Denbariki was technically illegal.
"Oi — go as a pair. It's not safe."
He was already out the door before I finished.
A customer came back from eating and spoke to me at the cashier.
"Manager... I think it's one of yours, but I just saw someone getting walked away by two police officers at the Yasukuni-dōri and Ichibangai intersection."
"..."
That idiot got spotted immediately.
I sprinted to Ichibangai-dōri and looked around. No sign of Okamoto.
I told you...
First thing — considered the possibility he'd been picked up. Called Sasaki-san.
If it was a denbariki arrest, only Shinjuku Police Station covered that area. But I couldn't exactly call the station from our side.
I waited.
The store phone rang. Shinjuku Police Station. That idiot had just handed them the store number without a second thought...
Well — maybe inevitable.
"This is Shinjuku Police Station. World One?"
"Y-yes..."
"Is this Iwakami-san, the manager?"
"Y-yes... that's me..."
That idiot — why is he throwing my name around at a police station? What do you think we have a front-name owner for?
"You know Okamoto? We need you to come as his guarantor."
"Ah, well — I'm just an employee myself. I'll contact the owner..."
"Iwakami-san, drop it. We want to keep this simple too — just come pick him up. It's a separate matter, don't worry."
Minor enough that they weren't pressing anything — they just wanted me to come collect him.
"Understood."
No point making this more complicated. I called Sasaki-san, had him send two people over from sister stores as cover, and once they arrived, walked out alone toward Shinjuku Police Station.
Grey-zone work for years — and this was my first time walking into a police station voluntarily.
Arrived by taxi. Pushed open the door. Okamoto was sitting there scratching his head and laughing.
I instinctively slapped it.
I signed some basic paperwork and we were out.
"I told you not to go alone!"
"I'm sorry... the very first one I put up, a cop just appeared out of nowhere..."
Okamoto and his loose optimism. Something to watch.
Still — the staffing was starting to take shape.
Short Yamashita was an idiot but he could work. Itō was growing. Okamoto was cocky but experienced from the start. The oversized Mochizuki turned out to be surprisingly dexterous — handled things smoothly.
"All right, I'm taking some days off."
"Of course. Please rest properly."
Uneasy, but I finally took a proper break.
No contact at all from Shinagawa Harumi. And things with Sasaki Mariko — someone I'd met in the meantime — had stalled out half-finished.
I drifted from bar to bar, half-heartedly trying to chat up women. Nothing worked. Eventually I'd end up at Misaki's bar Santana. Truly — no luck with women lately...
"Oh right — there's actually a girl at this bar who's taken a liking to you, Tomo-kun."
"Wait, who?"
"She's off today, but her name's Saori. We're close friends."
"Hey — Misaki. Set it up for me."
"Hmm..."
"Come on, please!"
Misaki reluctantly agreed under pressure and introduced us.
Her name was written with the characters for snow and joy — Yukiki, read as Saori. A pretty girl with a short bob that suited her.
Half Japanese, half Korean — father Japanese, mother Korean. Working at the same cabaret club as Misaki. Apparently she had a thing for well-built men and had been asking Misaki to introduce us for a while.
First time out, Misaki was with us as we walked through Kawagoe. We ran straight into Iwasaki Tomonori — Chabu — a classmate from middle and primary school. He saw me walking with two good-looking women and stared. After a brief hello and passing each other, he kept following behind going "Oi oi, what's going on, Iwakami."
This was the guy who'd once pressured me to play matchmaker for him, then shown up at the girl's workplace and kneecap-kicked her. A genuine piece of work. I told him to get lost and waved him off.
Grateful to Misaki, and with the loneliness finally easing, I started going on dates with Saori regularly.
We went to Monaco — the game centre run by my senpai Kanda-san — and took purikura together. She leaned against my shoulder, acting sweet. Her lips were very soft.
I took her to the Kawagoe Festival too. First time I'd ever walked through it with a woman on my arm. I lost count of how many people stopped me.
"Oh — Tomoichirō-san has a woman with him."
"Is that your girlfriend, Tomoichirō-san?"
"Oi, Tomoichirō! You never see that — a woman?"
Every few steps, more of the same. I ducked into Janome Sushi — a place run by a senpai — for cover.
Back outside and it started again immediately. People surrounding us.
I should have seen this coming.
Saori ran out of patience — she couldn't enjoy the festival at all — and was nearly in tears.
"Too many people you know. I hate this. I want to go somewhere quiet, just the two of us."
I couldn't leave the area near the Renjakuchō float.
But she kept pleading to go somewhere away from the festival.
I liked Saori. But the feeling never burned the way it had with Harumi.
I sent Saori home alone.
Trying to show her the Kawagoe Festival had backfired.
One day she messaged asking me to come by the bar.
I read it as a sales pitch and fired back an annoyed reply.
She wrote back: "You're the type who stops feeding the fish once you've caught them."
Too much effort. I let it end.
No room in my head — no consideration left for anyone else.
My senpai Bōzu-san got in touch. His point: computers were going to be essential going forward, and he wanted to teach me what he knew before that time came.
"Come on, computers aren't for me..."
I answered lazily. He said: "Tomo, you love old games, right?"
"Old games?"
"Arcade stuff, all the way from Space Invaders up through everything since. Famicom, Super Famicom, Game Boy Advance — everything."
Student days — no girlfriend, just pouring myself into game centres.
Sega Mark I through III, Master System, Mega Drive, Saturn, Dreamcast...
Not just Sega. PC Engine, Neo Geo, 3DO...
I'd owned almost every console there was.
"You can play all of it again."
"Sasuke & Commander too?"
"Yeah."
"Pengo too?"
"Yeah."
"Crazy Climber too?"
"Everything, I said. Everything."
Bōzu-san knew exactly where to get me.
So I went with him to Akihabara to buy a computer.
The standard machine at the time: Windows XP.
I wasn't really buying it for computers. I bought it because I could play old games again.
Price: just over 170,000 yen. How many PlayStation 2s is that, I thought — but it was an unavoidable investment.
Bōzu-san explained that connecting a PlayStation 2 controller via USB and mapping the buttons would make any game playable. "A computer is like a clever infant — the important thing is giving it clear instructions: do this, do that," he said. I understood none of it.
But the sheer feeling of those old arcade games working right in front of me.
Frontline — the one I'd played at the Nichii department store on the third floor back in Kawagoe.
Super Pac-Man — the roof of Itō-Yokado.
Gradius — at Peopleland, the place Kōno Ryūji's parents ran on the grounds of Renkei-ji Temple.
Fatal Fury Special, Art of Fighting, the Neo Geo fighting games from SNK, ADK, Data East...
Samurai Shodown.
I could almost use getting hooked on those games as my excuse for why I was so slow to develop back then.
Thousands of titles — Fatal Fury through Art of Fighting through Samurai Shodown and beyond.
Bōzu-san kept throwing around terms like emulator but all I needed was to play the games I wanted. After every shift I'd shut myself in my room and play.
My younger brother Tetsuya saw the screen.
"How come yours can do that? Set it up on mine too."
I didn't know how to explain it, so we just played together on mine.
Next time I saw Bōzu-san I asked how to set Tetsuya's up the same way. He started with the basics — files, folders, the most fundamental stuff.
"ROM images: you need to set the directory so the emulator knows where to read from."
Bōzu-san's teaching style was strict, but I treated it like memorising a system, and day by day I got deeper into it.
Saori messaged — she wanted to make up.
But I was deep in the games. I never replied. Just playing every day.
Mid-shift, Sasaki-san said he wanted to talk after work. Somewhere quiet. We used the lobby lounge at Shinjuku Prince Hotel.
"What I'm about to say — just between you and me. All right?"
Different energy from usual. Someone I trusted after everything we'd been through, so I nodded and said nothing.
"Owner Nakagawa... stock and property development went badly. He's sitting on debts of over a billion yen."
"What!"
It came out before I could stop it.
"World One closes in three months."
"..."
We'd dragged the store back from the edge — and three months?
"You remember Yuzawa-kun — the floor manager at one of the other stores — left a few months back? Nakagawa pressured him to lend five hundred thousand. When he hesitated, he was pushed out."
"So it was: lend the money or get fired."
"I lent... five hundred. But there's no getting it back now."
"I see..."
"If you and I work together, the top won't find out. I want my money back, Iwakami-kun — will you work with me?"
He meant skimming from the store.
Sasaki-san was genuinely a good person. No matter how many times he'd been burned, his nature never changed.
"Understood. You've done a lot for me, Sasaki-san. If it helps you — I'm in."
"Keep the closure quiet — from the staff and the customers for now."
"Yes, understood."
"The method — you know the in-store bingo? The way it works, I check it myself and then it goes straight through the shredder. Meaning — however many prizes it shows, I can falsify it as much as I want."
"...Yes."
"Each day I'll inflate the count a few times. Just set aside the corresponding amount separately."
"Understood. If it helps you recover what you lost..."
"Of course we split it fifty-fifty."
"No — I don't need a cut. As long as you get your money back, Sasaki-san."
"No. These things fall apart if it's not even. That's how it works."
Five hundred thousand gone to Nakagawa and he's still talking like this...
"But you've done so much for me. Let me give my share back to you—"
"Iwakami-kun! Please. Accept those terms."
A steady, serious gaze. No negotiating past fifty-fifty.
"All right."
From that day — just two of us. A secret that belonged to no one else.
Skimming through the in-store bingo.
Once per instance: fifty thousand. Twice: a hundred thousand. Some days two instances, some days six. On top of my regular pay, fifty to a hundred and fifty thousand was flowing in daily.
At first I kept telling Sasaki-san to take everything. He wouldn't accept anything other than fifty-fifty.
On event days it pushed even further.
Regular pay with store manager allowance: just over five hundred thousand a month. On top of that, the skimmed money — hidden from every other employee — arriving daily in the tens or hundreds of thousands.
Show up and the money came in like a magic drum.
My sense of money warped completely.
Guilt toward the other employees — of course it was there. But I couldn't say a word. Sasaki-san's secret.
I started behaving strangely. Taking the whole staff out for meals for no reason. Occasionally taking them to soaplands. Pointless gestures — but I couldn't help it.
Something inside me was going dark, day by day.
Back at Vega, my first game parlour — I'd looked down on Takahashi Hiroshi, somewhere in the back of my mind. But now that I'd learned how easy it was to skim? What was I?
By any measure — just another resident of Kabukichō's dark side. Sinking a little further every day.
I got home from a shift and my younger brother Tetsuya knocked on my door. He'd bought a new computer and wanted the games set up on it.
I knew how, so I moved the data over while we caught up.
Our youngest brother Takahiko — he hadn't taken over the family dry-cleaning business, but he helped out and lived from it. He'd once complained: "You and Tetsuya do whatever you want so I ended up like this." I'd told him: we have plenty of employees. You chose to stay — so if you hate it, quit.
Because of that exchange, Takahiko had always kept a certain coldness toward me.
But now, apparently — he'd hurt himself surfing, a cut under his arm, and couldn't work. "The guy's got no money and he's gone all quiet and shut-in," Tetsuya said.
I finished setting up Tetsuya's computer and went to Takahiko's room for the first time in ages.
The room I'd handed to him when I left for the Self-Defense Forces after high school.
He was lying on his back with a dark expression, reading manga.
"Hey, Takahiko. Heard you got hurt?"
"Because you never took over the business..."
"Drop it. Nobody asked you to. You didn't have to."
"..."
"You've got no money, right?"
I pulled some bills from my wallet and set them in front of him.
Under twenty thousand yen. A fraction of what was pouring in every day. Didn't even register as a loss.
"Nii-chan... is this okay?"
"Just take it. I've never acted like a proper older brother until now."
"T-thanks..."
After that I started giving Takahiko pocket money every day.
About two hundred thousand yen a month, total.
We'd never been especially close, but suddenly he started clinging to me.
Of course he would — I was handing over money every day.
Even if it was money as connection, I was someone he could rely on.
Tetsuya kept telling me: "You're spoiling Takahiko rotten."
Naturally, Takahiko's room started filling up with his friends.
Four years younger than me — so they were all juniors to me.
I'd order pizza delivery, take the whole group out to eat at Donryū nearby. Everyone on me.
One day, Takahiko's girlfriend Asami spoke up.
"Onii-san, do you know the building in Kabukichō? We've got a dance event there this weekend — would you come watch?"
Asami danced professionally, though not quite at the level of making a living from it.
"Tell Takahiko about it, not me."
"But Tā-chan doesn't have much money and he's still staying in all day, so he says he won't go... and it's actually my birthday that day..."
"Got it. I'll handle Takahiko. And I can get a room at Shinjuku Prince Hotel — I'll book one for the two of you. Go celebrate there."
"Thank you so much, Onii-san!"
If Asami and Takahiko got married, she'd really be my little sister.
Misaki was just a role I'd assigned in my own head.
Guilt over never paying much attention to him before.
A ridiculous attempt to look like a proper older brother.
I told Takahiko to book the room himself — I'd cover it.
A few days later he said everywhere was full — it was a weekend.
Nothing else to do — I called the hotel manager directly.
A connection built back in the Pro days. Still worked.
"It's been a while — Iwakami here. I'd like a good room on such-and-such a date..."
The manager sorted it immediately.
Takahiko stared at me.
"Listen — the room I booked is something I've never even stayed in myself. Show a little gratitude."
I handed him ten thousand yen and said nothing more.
He took it without a word.
"Don't waste it."
I went back to my room and slept.
The day of Asami's birthday.
I was at World One working, naturally.
I kept my Kabukichō life hidden from my brothers too.
A message from Takahiko.
Thanks for today, Nii-chan. Asami was really happy. — Iwakami Takahiko
Not too busy tonight. I told Yamashita to hold things and slipped out briefly.
I met up with Takahiko and Asami and took them for a meal.
Joryuen — a Chinese restaurant down a back alley near Fūrin Kaikan, not the kind of place ordinary people wandered into.
As they left I pressed a ten-thousand-yen note into Asami's hand.
"It's your birthday — go up to the top floor bar Châtelaine with Takahiko and have a toast."
They were both clearly desperate to know what I did for a living. I had no intention of explaining the grey zone to either of them. I just waved them off.
Watched my little brother's couple disappear, then headed back to the store.
Here I was — no girlfriend of my own — and what exactly was I doing?
Misaki had introduced me to Saori. Maybe I should have been more patient. Made it work.
No — a woman who steered you toward her cabaret club wasn't someone I could fully trust.
Harumi...
What was she doing now?
Not winning her over — that was everything. I was so lonely.
And here I was looking after Takahiko's life.
A feeling I couldn't name settled over me as I worked another day at the game parlour.
A call came in from Okamoto at the store.
"Sorry, Iwakami-san. Nature's calling — absolutely can't hold it. I'm going to be about five minutes late..."
"Fine. Don't have an accident."
He came in five minutes late that day.
Three days later, same call. Then it kept happening.
"Iwakami-san, sorry... about to overflow again..."
I called him over after his shift.
"Look — you keep saying the same thing, but if this keeps happening at the same time every day, just take an earlier train by one or two. That'd fix it."
"Y-yes..."
"I'm not letting this slide next time. Everyone else is here on time."
"Understood. I'm sorry."
Allowances for genuine emergencies and just letting things slide were different things.
Whatever the job, being on time was non-negotiable.
End of that shift, I met Sasaki-san at the Prince Hotel lobby lounge.
Today: bingo falsified six times — three hundred thousand. Sasaki-san handed me a hundred and fifty.
A little while ago I'd have felt resistance.
Now I took it without a second thought.
I was getting murkier by the day.
Itō — who I'd been building into the second seat — had been getting better and better responses from the Tohoku tours. He came to me and asked desperately: could he have four days off? It was a real opportunity for him. The store would be tight, but everyone else could cover.
I told the staff. Yamashita and Mochizuki both said they could forgo their days off during that stretch. Only Okamoto had something unavoidable — so his days off and Itō's would overlap by one.
Three people to run the floor.
I'd just have to skip my own break time and make it work somehow.
But of course — on days like this, the store was perversely, mercilessly busy.
Me, Yamashita, and Mochizuki — barely two weeks in.
In a game parlour when things got busy, the IN count exploded and you were sprinting around the floor non-stop. I'd seen new hires break and quit after a day or two just from this. No way to give anyone a proper meal break.
"Mochizuki — go have a smoke in the back."
"I'm still fine!"
"Go. I'll cover the cashier and watch the floor. It's fine."
Getting Mochizuki a cigarette break was the most I could manage.
"Iwakami-san — meal break yet?" Yamashita found a gap to ask.
"Still can't. Customers aren't thinning at all."
"I made plans to eat with Ōkura from the early shift — he's still waiting outside!"
"Not my problem. You two sorted that out yourselves, nothing to do with the store."
"But Ōkura-san's still out there—"
"We're in the middle of a shift! Store comes first. Once Mochizuki's back from his smoke, go call Ōkura and apologize."
Yamashita sulked. I understood — but there was nothing to be done.
I sent Yamashita for his cigarette, pushed Mochizuki out for a meal.
"Sorry — normally an hour is fine, but today can you make it forty minutes?"
"I don't actually need to eat."
"Go. We're fine here."
I gave him meal money and sent him out.
Less than fifteen minutes later he was back on the floor, still chewing.
"You..."
"Done. I'm good."
I accepted Mochizuki's goodwill. The two of us running World One alone — the place was simply too large.
"Iwakami-san, my meal break yet? My meal break?"
Yamashita was nagging from the side. I gave in and sent him.
"Today's a mess — forty minutes, I'm sorry."
He bolted out the door without waiting to see if Ōkura was still there.
Two people running the floor — hell.
Mochizuki was drenched in sweat sprinting the floor.
I was handling one row of INs and OUTs while manning the cashier — and whenever someone hit four of a kind or higher, or a one-go, I had to bolt back to print and log it.
I glanced at the clock. Yamashita had been gone well over an hour.
He knew how bad it was in here. What was he doing?
Customers shoved bills at me, demanding IN.
Mochizuki and I kept running.
"Royal!"
Table five shouted.
"One moment please!"
I flew to the cashier and hammered the print button.
The entrance door opened.
Yamashita walked in.
An hour and a half since he'd left.
"What were you thinking!"
It came out louder than I intended.
"I said forty minutes! What the hell were you doing out there, you idiot!"
Yamashita's face was slightly red.
Had this guy actually been drinking?
"Oi — answer me. Why would you sit there drinking for an hour and a half when you knew what was happening in here?"
"I'll take responsibility and quit."
He said it with a sulk.
"What did you just say?"
Mochizuki was still running the floor alone, giving everything he had.
"Fine — I'll quit. Is that what you want?"
I had Yamashita by the collar.
"Look at Mochizuki out there running himself into the ground — and you feel nothing?"
"Then I'll quit— gyaaaah!"
Before I knew it I'd headbutted him.
He went down clutching his head, rolling across the floor.
Every customer who'd been deep in their poker stopped.
They stared at Yamashita writhing on the floor, frozen.
I grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him to the back room.
"Don't be so dramatic."
Back to the floor. Back to the customers. Back to work with Mochizuki.
I'd hit my limit. I found a moment and called Sasaki-san — asked him to send emergency help from sister stores.
About thirty minutes later, Yamashita reappeared from the back, one hand pressed to his head, swaying slightly.
"Go on then, kill me!"
He shouted it across the floor.
I punched him once, grabbed his stuff and his jacket, threw them both outside the entrance.
Then threw Yamashita out after them.
"You're fired. Get out."
A hollow feeling washed over me.
Over two years working side by side.
When Yoshida had been making his life hell I'd put myself on the line for him.
Why was he such an idiot?
Reinforcements finally arrived from the sister store Arena — Kuroiwa; and from Champ — Nakajima.
Only then could I give Mochizuki a proper rest.
Why couldn't Yamashita read the room?
I hadn't realised he was that stupid.
I felt genuinely miserable.
Went home. Slept. Mentally exhausted.
Sasaki-san told me I needed to manage my staff better.
Manage Yamashita? There was no managing that level of stupidity.
A strange irritation that wouldn't go away.
Well — from Sasaki-san's point of view, World One only had a few months left anyway. Useless employee or not, as long as the store ran normally to the end, that was all that mattered. My standards were the problem.
No — impossible. There was no other way...
A knock at my door.
Takahiko — his friends were over, could they order pizza?
"Sure, order whatever. I want some too — wake me up when it comes."
I fell asleep mid-thought.
Shaken awake.
"Finally. Pizza's here."
Takahiko was in front of me.
I handed him a ten-thousand-yen note and told him to pay.
I washed my face and went up to Takahiko's room on the third floor.
"Thanks for the food, Onii-san."
His friends — my juniors — all bowed their heads.
I grabbed a slice and ate with them.
"By the way, Takahiko — the change from the pizza?"
"Oh, I kept that as a handling fee."
He said it with a grin, performing for his friends.
"That's not how it works."
The Yamashita irritation was still in me.
"Come on, Nii-chan's got money — no need to sweat the small stuff."
He laughed — a cheap, show-off laugh.
His friends went quiet and looked at the floor.
"..."
All the money I'd given him with no strings attached. The hotel for Asami's birthday, every cent of it. The steady pocket money along the way.
And this is what it came to.
"Nii-chan's good at making money but doesn't know how to spend it — so I'm spending it for him."
Said with pride.
I stood up and kicked him in the face.
"Don't get above yourself, kid."
I'd meant to help — injured, no money, shutting himself away. Tried to do something brotherly. And all I'd done was inflate his ego and let him take advantage.
"I'm done giving you money."
I ignored the silent juniors, slammed the door hard, and went back to my room.
